Tolerance is Best Served Orange

In 1924 Frank Stewart opened a small root beer stand in Mansfield, Ohio. Frank was a school teacher and used the money he made from the stand to support his love of education. His In-n-Out style menu only served root beer and popcorn (although he was known to add extra salt to the popcorn in order to help his root beer sales).

This was the start of what became my six year old self’s beverage of choice: Stewart’s Orange N’ Cream Soda. Drinking a Stewart’s Orange N’ Cream Soda reminded me of everything good in the world. Baseball, summer break, swimming holes, and 50-50 bars. Soda, in general, was a luxury for our family and usually meant grape or cola Shasta, so to have a Stewart’s Orange N’ Cream felt extravagant and luxurious.

In a moment of reminiscing a couple of years ago, I thought it would be fun to revert back to my six year old self and crack open a cold Orange N’ Cream. As I took my first sip, expecting thoughts of summer breaks on the porch to flood over me, I was shocked to find my gag reflex kicking in as the thick syrupy liquid hit the back of my throat. Surprised, I took a moment to look at the bottle to make sure I picked out the right brand, then had another sip. Again, it felt like I was drinking liquified orange favored fun dip. The sugar content was so high, there was no way I could force myself to take another drink. Eventually I had to pour my six year old dreams of everything good in the world, down the high fructose corn syrup drain.

I would guess that each of us has a number of memories that are only partially truthful:

I loved our first apartment (except for all the bugs).
Uncle Curtis was so healthy (except for that smoking thing).
I loved deep fried zucchini (except for that food poisoning incident at the street fair).
That movie was awesome (except I could never swim in the ocean again).

Memories can be a mix of one part nostalgia, plus the most Instagramable parts of our past, coupled with a longing for simpler times.

Six Year Old Tolerance

Tolerance used to be a word that was designed with other people in mind, something that we would give to someone else. It was a relationship glue that helped us enjoy community with others, not based on agreement, but on acceptance. Tolerance was the verb form of the word “grace”. It was actively choosing to set aside a difference. It meant granting someone else the right to be wrong or different.

Tolerance isn’t about others anymore. It is about us. It is demanding that others accept our position, my thoughts, and how I feel. Tolerance has become arrogant and entitled. It has moved from the verb form of grace to a vacuum for grace.

The apostle John summed up his contact with Jesus like this in John 1:14-16. We got to see his glory and experience his fullness. What did his glory look like? It was the perfect blending of truth and grace. What was his fullness full of? John said it was grace upon grace, or in another translation, grace in place of grace.

But just because tolerance isn’t what it used to be, doesn’t mean it needs to be poured out. We just need to recognize that it has changed from what our six year old selves knew it to be.

Others need just as much grace today as they used to. I just have to stop trying to use tolerance to give that grace out. I’m going to start using another method instead: love. Love is going to be the verb for grace. Love will be the relationship glue that promotes acceptance and smoothes over differences. Love doesn’t mean we agree, it just means I care more about you than I care about agreeing. Love is my new vehicle for grace.

I still like baseball, swimming holes, and summer break. I even still like the idea of Orange soda. It is just that my tastes have changed, my pallet has been refined and I need to give out grace in a new flavor.