A couple of days ago, I went to the grocery store with a couple of friends of mine. In the produce section I placed bananas in my cart, looked over the greens, contemplated buying the strawberries, and glanced briefly over the cabbage.

An onion fell on my foot.

I picked it up and studied it for a minute, rather distastefully. I despise onions. Cooked or raw, they're nasty to me. When raw, it's impossible to cover the acidic taste. They're disgustingly crunchy, and they make your breath stink. The strongest mouthwash can't fully cover the stench of onions. Nothing short of a toothbrush can eliminate "onion-breath". Cooked, they're soggy, mushy, and slimy. Again, they make your breath stink. Cut into one and you can't help crying. I avoid them at all costs. I pick them off hamburgers, scrape them off steak, and throw them away when they show up in salads.

My parents love onions (it figured), and they used to make me peel them (that also figured.). With tears streaming down my cheeks, I separated layer after layer of acidic, pungent flesh, only to discover. . . nothing. Onions have no core. They just disintegrate into nothing.

People are like that.

Even the best of us are nasty when left to our own devices. The stink of our sins carries clear up to heaven. No amount of spiritual cologne can cover it up, only a bath can help. It's impossible to cover the effects of sin in our lives. Those of us who are no good at hiding appear worse than the rest of us. The weight of their circumstances make their lives soggy with tears, slimy with filth, and generally, a huge mess. No good for anything except the Friday night movie. And worst of all, if you peel us, looking for that inner core of values, morals, and goodness, you find. . . nothing. Only more and more layers of sinful flesh until there's nothing left. And a bucketful of tears and aggravation for your trouble.

That's why we need Jesus.

The song says "Jesus loves me," and its a profound truth. Jesus loves us, even with our stinking, soggy, acidic natures. He'll put us in his ministry salads and on his anointed hamburgers, and even saut� us in the living waters before he places us on the steak of forgiveness. He'll include us in his culinary plans.

And despite the pain that comes from "peeling" us, he won't turn away. We resent being peeled, resent having our faults and shortcomings stripped away by his loving hands. We become rebellious and disobedient. Yet he continues to mold and shape us, peeling away layer after layer of our shortcomings, faults, hang-ups and problems, and he'll use those personality quirks to his honor and glory. We may not like it, but once he's finished with us, our faults and idiosyncrasies will have added a little flavor to ministries only we could do.

But the best part is that Jesus will fill the emptiness inside of us. Instead of peeling us down to nothingness, he strips layer after layer to reveal his nature, the Christ inside of us. He fills us with his power and glory, stripping away our natures in the process. No longer are we an empty shell, but a person of value; value freely given to us by Jesus Christ.

I will never like onions. But I thank God that when Jesus walks into the restaurants of life, he never says "Hold the onions!" I praise God that he can take the onion of my personality and use it to add a little flavor to his work on this earth.

It almost makes me feel like eating an onion ring.

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