A year ago my wife's work schedule shifted, and preparing dinner became my responsibility. My range of meals was limited: a bowl of Wheat Chex and a lunch-meat sandwich. I quickly developed an expanded array of dinners for my boys to choose from: spaghetti with Prego three-cheese sauce, spaghetti with Ragu traditional sauce, spaghetti with Kraft parmesan cheese.

The first time or two their palates bathed in my spaghetti creations, my sons cleaned their plates. But soon the proud chef began to get a different response to his triumphant announcement, "Spaghetti's ready!"

"Aw, Dad, don't we have anything else?"

I was incredulous. "You don't want my spaghetti?"

"No, Dad, we've had that for days."

I learned something about my boys: They want a menu that looks like the classified ads of the Chicago Tribune; they want more choices. When they're really hungry, anything will do--even spaghetti. But otherwise they get picky.

The same thing can be true in church. Sometimes it seems we preach to only two ...