The Great Wasabi

Great stories beg to be told.

And then they beg to be retold...again and again. Just when you think the story has been told enough, someone else will want to share it. Or you will want to hear it from a different viewpoint.

This hit me while I was eating sushi with my girls.

My daughter was curious about the taste of wasabi. The misses and I warned her about the potential threat that the horseradish and cabbage's first cousin possesses.

First, I explained how too much of the condiment feels like when you jump into a pool and all the water rushes up your nose. Second, I let her take a deep sniff of it to let her nose experience a slight burn.

But then I remembered a story in my family's history. I had to share it with my two daughters to teach them about the threat of wasabi.

The story involves my mother and brother, Aaron.

I don't know what to tell you about my older brother, other than he's a character. He has the stuff that legends are made from. If you knew him, you would have your very own "Aaron story".

When my wife was pregnant with my oldest daughter, my parents were visiting from out of town.

We went to a Chinese restaurant that had a buffet that served everything. It had Chinese, American, Japanese, and Mongolian. This was before I knew anything about sushi, but I knew that sushi from a bar where it sat all day lacked integrity.

After eating a plate, my brother and I had returned for seconds. Because everyone knows that Chinese-American-Japanese-Mongolian-all-you-can-eat-buffet is Chinese for the word "challenge".

My brother beat me back to the table. However, God loves me so much that he allowed me to witness the story unfold on my way back.

Picture via Taku on Flickr

Aaron had taken a healthy portion of wasabi from the buffet with one ambition.

He pretended that it tasted good. And this is where the story gets really good.

He gave a spoonful to my mother and told her to give it a try.

You see what I mean? Legendary!

I don't know what possessed my mother to trust him, but she did.

The green turned my mother's face bright red. She smacked at her head with the palms of her hands for no relief. That was followed by a coughing fit. Which led to water being consumed like she had spent a week crossing the desert on foot.

While my mother was possibly on her death bed, my brother raised his arms and shouted victoriously, "Waaaassssaaaabbiiiii!!!"

(Don't feel too sorry for my mom. Once on my birthday, she gave me a jalapeno and told me it was a pickle.)

My girls loved this story.

They giggled like only two sisters can.

They asked my wife to tell it to them a second time. After the second time, they asked me to tell it again. They requested a fourth time, but we had to eat. So Ellie told Chloe the story. And then Chloe told Ellie the same story. They wanted to hear it from Uncle Aaron. So we gave Uncle Aaron a call, so that he could tell it.

Great stories beg to be told over and over again.

That's what makes the gospel so compelling.

It's the greatest story ever. A story that has been told countless times by countless people over the past 2,000 years. It was so great that it was foretold about a thousand years prior to happening.

That's also why your story begs to be told. It's powerful.

Who doesn't want to share how Christ has created a new creation with you? And who wouldn't want to hear a story of healing or redemption? Maybe your story is a love story about how you met your spouse. Or maybe it's a story about how God gave you something.

We all have stories that beg to be told and retold.

Tell your story. Someone needs to hear it. Listen to others' stories. You need to hear them and they need to tell them.

Question:
What story do you have that begs to be told? Seriously, I would love to hear it.


You can follow me on Twitter @christiangravy.