Taters...Good and Bad

I love potatoes. Potatoes are absolutely one of my favorite foods in the whole wide world. I like them baked, mashed, smashed, whipped, fried, boiled, roasted, scalloped or au gratin. I like French fries, home fries, curly fries, seasoned fries, and waffle fries. I like hash browns and tater tots. I like potato pancakes, potato salad, potato chips, potato skins and potato soup. I like potatoes with butter, with gravy and with ketchup. I like white potatoes and sweet potatoes. If you were to prepare me a meal that had nothing but four or five different variations of potatoes—no meat, no bread, no other veggies—I would absolutely love it. In my mind, that would be a well-balanced meal. Forget about overdosing on carbs. Potatoes in any form (except instant potatoes!) bring me peace, happiness, and fulfillment.

Strangely, my wife for some reason does not share my deep passion for potatoes. With a logic I cannot comprehend, she thinks that potatoes are something you merely tolerate, certainly not something you celebrate. She cannot appreciate or even comprehend my deeply held conviction that potatoes are one of God’s greatest creations—an essential staple of life. (With such divergent world-views on this crucial matter, it’s really amazing that our marriage has prospered all these years!)

Last summer, Sandy and I went to Northern Ireland on vacation. During our three weeks “across the pond”, we ate at several restaurants and got invited to eat in a number of homes. And what was one of the food items present at almost every Irish meal? Potatoes! Potatoes galore! Potatoes, potatoes everywhere! Potatoes, potatoes and more potatoes! Potatoes with a side of potatoes! I honestly thought I had died and gone to Heaven! (Surely there will be potatoes in Heaven!) Sandy, oddly enough, did not share my enthusiasm for that particular aspect of our trip. For, you see, she—unbelievably—can go weeks without eating potatoes! So, although she loved our trip to the Emerald Isle, she had way more than her fill of spuds while we were there.

Personally, I felt such a deep kinship with the people of Northern Ireland. My Scotch-Irish heritage truly emerged on that trip. And, without a doubt, it was the Irish love for potatoes that put the icing on the cake for me. “These are my people!” I declared at one point, as I sat at a dinner table spearing a potato with my fork. (I suppose that had I lived in Ireland back in the 19th Century during the time of the Great Potato Famine, I would have died. I couldn’t imagine having no potatoes to eat!) Throughout that whole cross-cultural experience, I was reminded that I come from a long line of potato eaters. In fact, back in the mountains of Appalachia I even had a great uncle whose nickname—no kidding—was “Spud” Davis! So I come by my potato passion honestly.

Now as you can see from this long discourse, I absolutely love taters…in any way, shape or form. I simply cannot get enough of them…with one notable exception—the Tater family. “The Tater family?” you ask, “Who on earth is the Tater family?” The Taters are a group of people that turn up in almost every church. But they’re really not the kind of folks you want to have as church members. Let me introduce them to you.

First of all, there’s Uncle Dick Tater. He’s the family patriarch. Dick Tater likes to run the show. He always wants to be in charge. With him, it’s his way or the highway. If it's not his idea, he's going to be against it. He’s intolerant & controlling, always insisting on his own preferences at the expense of everyone else. Without a doubt, if Dick Tater ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. In his mind, it’s all about him.

Then, there’s Aunt Hessie Tater. She's the maestro of missed opportunities. Hessie Tater always puts off doing what she knows she ought to be doing. She’s a pro at procrastination. In her way of thinking, tomorrow is always a better day to serve the Lord. Yet, sadly, tomorrow never comes. And, while life around her continually passes her by, Hessie Tater never gets around to doing those things she repeatedly says she’s going to do. As a result, the blessings she could have known elude her completely.

Another key member of the Tater clan is Cousin Emma Tater. She’s the actress in the family. Without a doubt, Emma should win an Emmy. She always does a convincing job of acting spiritual in front of her church friends. She knows the right words to say, the right image to project, and the right appearance to create. Emma Tater can surely talk a good game, but there’s no real depth or authenticity to her. Her Christianity is little more than an outfit of clothes she puts on and takes off every Sunday.

Also in the family is ol’ “Spec” Tater. Spec is a pew sitter par excellence. He never gets involved in the church’s ministry or mission. He never seeks to build relationships or get vitally connected with others in the Body. To him, church is merely something you attend—it’s not part of who you are, and you’re certainly not part of it…at least not in the Biblical sense. “Spec” Tater always likes that comfortable spot on the back row where he can watch at a safe distance. He’s not going to commit himself to anything. The only Christian service he believes in is “serve us.”

Last but not least, there’s the spoiled darling of the family, little Angie Tater. Angie Tater likes to stir things up. It seems she can always find something negative to say about somebody. And she’s a real pro at making mountains out of molehills. Angie Tater is good at undermining confidence in church leaders, creating confusion, and sowing seeds of discord among the members. She keeps everybody distracted from the church's main mission and she drains energy that could be better used elsewhere. Watch out for fiesty little Angie!

I enjoy taters…but not the Tater family. As you can see, these half-baked guys are rather hard to swallow. And they also can cause severe spiritual indigestion. So, let’s hope that the Tater family always stays far, far away from us, because this is one family that our church (or any church) can certainly do without.

Now, on to more serious things. Can you pass the potatoes please?

Pastor Danny