Florida oranges in January are akin to northerner’s summer zucchini; they’re basically free for the taking. Usually my children peel their oranges, and on occasion, they’ll slice them into wedges first. This morning was different, however. I hand-squeezed several glasses of orange juice. We drank the oranges instead of eating them.

What followed left me incredulous. My girls took a swig, put the glass down, and declared, “This does not taste like Publix orange juice.”

“Exactly.”

“We like Publix orange juice better.”

My oldest son– the only person with any sense left– was gleeful. “More for us, yippee! They don’t know what they’re missing, Mom! Right?”

Of course, my son is right. While my daughters gladly prefer a cheap imitation over the real thing, my son recognizes he’s been gypped. He’s smart. Years of consuming inferior juice have left my girls with an appetite for it. The only way the juice I offered them this morning would be “more real” is if they poked straws into oranges still hanging on the tree. My girls haven’t just settled for processed juice; they prefer it! It’s madness.

Yet everyday we exchange our birthrights for a bowl of soup and fake orange juice when we believe that this is all there is. Christians are called to live with Christ the King in sight. When we believe His promises and then pray even still for more faith, we drink the real stuff.