I’m a sucker for chocolate. At home, after the kids and Pam have gone to bed, I’ve been known to sneak into the baking cabinet and scarf down a handful of Toll House semi-sweet chocolate chips right from the bag. Don’t hate. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Then there’s Isaac’s office. He has this basket where candy accumulates—Hershey’s minis- dark chocolate, milk chocolate, Krackles, Mr. Good Bar, Twix, Kit Kats, and if you’re lucky, a few miniature Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I hit that stash several times a week. Isaac says the only one who asks for candy more than me is his three-year-old daughter, Lucy. That hurt. I guess you could say I’m fairly indiscriminate when it comes to chocolate.

Until recently.

Last spring, Pam and I traveled to Germany to visit our son and daughter-in-law, Josh and Alaina. That’s when I was introduced to real German chocolate—not German chocolate cake (which is fine in its own right), but actual German-made chocolate. Specifically, Ritter Sport, a brand manufactured near Stuttgart where they live. It’s the German equivalent of a mass-produced midrange chocolate, but compared to Hershey’s? It’s SO much better. I know that sounds like heresy, considering we live only 35 miles from the Sweetest Place on Earth. But it’s true.

We bought a sampler to bring home with us—but it didn’t even make it off the plane.

Then, just last week, Josh and Alaina traveled to Belgium, and Alaina came back with three kilos of Belgian chocolate. Apparently, German chocolate’s just a gateway drug to the really good stuff. And, of course, there’s Swiss chocolate too—so now I’m wondering, how deep does this rabbit hole go?

But here’s the thing. Now that I’ve tasted the good stuff, the usual American mass-produced candy just doesn’t cut it anymore. The stuff in Isaac’s basket? Bland. Waxy. Substandard. I find it easier to resist because I know I’ll be disappointed.

Okay, fine. I still have a weakness for peanut butter cups.

But I think I’m turning into a chocolate snob.

A Taste for Something Better

There’s a spiritual lesson in this for sure.

Too often, we settle for the pablum of the world—things that promise satisfaction but ultimately leave us empty. Like cheap chocolate, the world’s version of fulfillment is loaded with fillers and artificial substitutes that mimic the real thing but never truly satisfy.

• Entertainment and Distraction – We binge-watch, scroll endlessly, and consume media, yet we’re left restless and unfulfilled.
• Shallow Relationships – We settle for surface-level connections, avoiding deep, meaningful community and accountability.
• Temporary Pleasures – We chase money, status, and comfort, only to find that none of them provide lasting joy.

But once you’ve tasted something better, it’s hard to go back.

The psalmist wrote, “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.” (Psalm 34:8)

When we experience true intimacy with God, the empty promises of the world lose their appeal. Like subpar chocolate, they just don’t satisfy anymore.

Paul understood this when he said, “I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” (Philippians 3:8) He had tasted something better, and nothing else could compare.

The more we experience God, the more our desires shift, or maybe we could say, they refine. Just like my taste for chocolate has changed, our spiritual appetites mature when we spend time in His presence. The world’s empty promises—comfort, success, entertainment—start to feel hollow compared to the richness of knowing Him. As we cultivate a deeper hunger for His truth, His voice, and His presence the world’s hollow substitutes feel as unsatisfying as a waxy candy bar.

This is what it means to grow in faith: not just avoiding the cheap imitations, but craving what is real and lasting. This kind of spiritual refinement isn’t instant—it’s a journey. But as you feast on God’s Word, lean into real prayer, and walk daily with His Spirit, you’ll begin to notice a shift. The world’s empty pleasures won’t hold the same appeal, and your hunger for Him will only grow. And the more we do, the more the world’s empty pleasures lose their grip on us.

This is the essence of spiritual maturity: developing such a hunger for God that nothing else will do. It’s not about rigid discipline or self-denial—it’s about discovering something so rich, so good, so deeply satisfying that we wouldn’t trade it for anything less.

Because once you’ve had the real thing, why would you ever go back?