What Does Faith Taste Like?

What does faith taste like?

This is the second of three articles trying to encapsulate what hope, faith and love would taste like. What sort of dish would best convey these three basic and essential ingredients of life? Last week, I flirted with the idea that hope was like a very small teasing taste of spiced almonds.

Today I suggest that faith is like bread. Not just any old bread. Not like the sort of bread that some would cheekily describe as ‘cotton wool’. Oh no, our faith/bread is the thick, crusty, warm bread with lots of texture and comes complete with that ‘I've just come out of the oven aroma.' This is the fragrance that draws you in on the promise of something sustaining and nutritional, and delicious.

Eating this bread is part anticipation, part taste, part satisfaction, but mainly it is an experience.

Our dish of faith is best served with a deep, mysterious, complex glass of superb red wine. The sort that just when you think you’ve got it worked out leaves a surprising and particular zing on your palette. Something that you weren’t quite expecting. Something that is unique and leaves you wondering how the clever wine Master got it so right. He’s saved the best wine until now. This is not a wine to be rushed and gulped down. This is not a quaffable, rough Barby Red. This is a wine to be played with, enjoyed slowly, stringing out the pleasure for as long as possible.

This combo deal of faith, bread and wine is nothing new. It’s been enjoyed for literally centuries, and those who dabble in this wonderful mystery come to imbibe with faith in their souls and joy in their hearts. I reckon they’re onto something.