Canning tomatoes is one of the more difficult garden season chores.  You wash each and every tomato.  You scald each and every tomato.  You pound ice blocks till your arms ache in order to shock and cool each and every scalded tomato.  You peel each and every tomato and finally you cut up each and every tomato.  How many?  In the old days about 5 five gallon buckets full, enough to make 40+ quarts.  Then you sterilize jars, pack jars, and process jars.  Only 7 fit in the canner at a time, so you go through that at least 6 times.

            And you will have more failures to seal with canned tomatoes than any other thing you can.  As you pack them in, pushing down to make room, you must be very careful not to let the juice spill over into the threads of the jar.  And just in case you did that heinous crime, you take a damp cloth and wipe each thread of each jar.  Tomato pulp will keep a perfectly good jar, lid, and ring from sealing.

            In order to have that many tomatoes you must be willing to cut up a few that are half-rotten, disposing of the soft, pulpy, stinky parts—and boy howdy, can they stink!—in order to save sometimes just a bite or two of tomato.  Now that there are only two of us, I usually limit myself to 20 + quarts.  I still put one in every pot of spaghetti sauce, one in every pot of chili, and one in every pot of minestrone, as well as a few other recipes, it’s just that I don’t make as many of those things as I did with two boys in the house.  Now I can afford to be a little profligate.  If I pick up a tomato with a large bad spot, I am just as likely to toss the whole thing rather than try to save the bite or two that is good, especially if it is a small tomato to begin with.  Why go to all that work—washing, scalding, shocking, peeling, cutting up, packing—for a mere teaspoon of tomato?

            But isn’t that what God and Jesus did for us?  For narrow is the gate, and straitened the way, that leads unto life, and few are they that find it. Matt 7:14.

            The Son of God, the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Phil 2:6-8.  And he did that for a half—no!--for a more than half rotten tomato of a world.  He did that to save a remnant, a mere teaspoon of souls who would care enough to listen and obey the call. 

           Sometimes, by the end of the day, when my arms are aching, my fingers are nicked and the cuts burning from acidic tomato juice, my back and feet are killing me from standing for hours, and I am drenched with sweat from the steamy kitchen, I am ready to toss even the mostly good tomatoes, the ones with only a tiny bad spot, because it means extra work beyond a quick slice or two.  Aren’t you glad God did not feel that way about us?  It wasn’t just a half rotten world he came to save, it was a bunch of half rotten individuals in that world, of which you and I are just a few.
 
But what is God's reply to him? “I have kept for myself seven thousand men who have not bowed the knee to Baal.” So too at the present time there is a remnant, chosen by grace. Rom 11:4-5

Dene Ward

I have gotten lazy.  When I need a quick dessert, I pull a quart of blueberries out of the freezer, cut together a cup of flour, a cup of sugar, and a stick of butter, spread those crumbs on top of the blueberries in a baking dish and bake it for about 45 minutes.  Suddenly I have a warm, bubbly, fruity filling with a sweet crunchy topping for a minimum of work and mess in the kitchen.  While a pastry chef would not be impressed, for most people it’s just fine.

            But a blueberry pie?  Now that takes a commitment.  First you make the crust, a careful process of measuring, handling, rolling and fitting into the pie plate.  Then you make the filling, far more ingredients than a crisp and more careful measuring.  Then you have to deal with the top crust, rolling it, sealing it, crimping it, and preparing it for baking with a vent, a brush of milk and a sprinkling of sparkling sugar.  And the baking?  First ten minutes at 425, then another 35-45 at 350, carefully watching the top for over-browning and the vent for bubbling blueberries.  If they don’t bubble, it isn’t done yet no matter how brown the crust is.  So then you must lay some foil over the top so it won’t burn before it finishes baking.  It’s a real process.

            Then you look around the kitchen at the two mixing bowls, the many measuring cups and spoons, the wooden spoons, pastry cutter, and spatulas, the flour covered countertop, and often the floor as well.  It takes more than a minute to clean it up.  But which has the best combination of flavors and textures? Which one is more likely to get the oohs and aahs of company?  When I really want to do something nice for someone, and assuming time is not an issue, they get the pie.

            Too many of us make God settle for the crisp.  If it’s easy and convenient, God gets the service.  If I can still have my life the way I want it, with my own priorities in order, then fine—I am happy to be a Christian.  If it appeals to my sense of sweetness and light, and pats on the back rather than rebukes and chastening, if I receive tons of blessings and few if any trials, I am happy to do it.  Becoming a child of God means repentance, and repentance means I am sorry, right?  So I say I am and now I can go back to doing whatever I want to do.  Don’t expect any tears or humility.

            God will not accept me on those terms.  Nearly every gospel sermon you can find in the New Testament mentions repentance, but simply being sorry is not the repentance those preachers are talking about.  2 Kgs 22:19 says Josiah’s heart was tender and he humbled himself.  David says he acknowledged his sin and did not hide from God, Psa 32:5, and that God only accepts “a broken spirit and a broken and contrite heart,” Psa 51:17.  John told the crowds to “bring forth fruits worthy of repentance,” Matt 3:8, and Jeremiah reminded Old Testament Israel to “thoroughly amend” their ways, Jer 7:5. 

            Repentance is not cosmetic.  It is a complete change of heart and life, and a wholesale attitude adjustment when considering your lifestyle, its goals and purposes.  Paul commends the Corinthians for a repentance that “wrought care, indignation, fear, longing, zeal, avenging,” 2 Cor 7:11.  Commitment to God cannot come without that kind of repentance. 

            Repentance is the very key to conversion.  Once you repent in the way those Corinthians did, in the way the early Christians did, no one will be able to keep you from doing the rest because now everything has changed.  You will not argue about whether baptism is essential.  You will not argue about how many times you need to assemble with the saints.  You will not argue about whether something is “right” or “wrong” if there is any question at all, because you will have the zeal, the care, and the longing to do everything you possibly can to serve God. 

            What did you make for God when you became a Christian?  If you only gave him a blueberry crisp, it’s time to get out the mixing bowls and try again. 
 
If my people, who are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land, 2 Chron 7:14.  
 
Dene Ward

I had invited a couple of friends for lunch.  One in particular had been raving about a calzone I made for her a couple of years before.  So I promised her another.  I had bought everything from memory.  With the price of gas making one trip to town cost $8, I buy everything I need for the week on one day.

            Suddenly in the middle of the night I woke up and said to myself, “Cheese!”  I had forgotten the mozzarella and provolone.  How in the world can you even think of making what is basically a pizza turnover and forget the cheese?  It’s like planning to make brownies and forgetting the chocolate!

            We are no better when we try to be children of God and forget the basic elements. 

            The Pharisees thought that since they tithed even their herb seeds, they were good Jews.  They were certainly right to be so careful.  Every tithe of the land, whether of the seed of the land or of the fruit of the trees, is the LORD's; it is holy to the LORD. You shall tithe all the yield of your seed that comes from the field year by year, Lev 27:30; Deut 14:22.  Yet Jesus reminded them that they had left out “the weightier matters of the law, justice, mercy, and faithfulness” Matt 23:23.  How did they think they could be children of a just and merciful God and leave those things out?  It should have been unthinkable.

            John dealt with people who thought they could be followers of Christ and live immoral lives.  He was plain about their mistaken ideas.  Whoever says "I know him" but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him, 1 John 2:4.  He reminded them of the same thing Jesus reminded the Pharisees.  How can you think you are a child of God if you don’t live by his rules?   No one born of God makes a practice of sinning, for God's seed abides in him, and he cannot keep on sinning because he has been born of God. By this it is evident who are the children of God, and who are the children of the devil: whoever does not practice righteousness is not of God, nor is the one who does not love his brother, I John 3:,9,10.  I don’t know about you, but I get really tired of famous athletes who wear crosses around their necks and “thank Jesus” before the cameras, but live like the Devil otherwise.   

            It’s time for all of us to stop trying to make calzones without the cheese.  You can’t pick and choose which commandments you want to follow and then claim to be an obedient and faithful child of God.   

            Children do not tell their parents which of the house rules they will and will not obey.  They are obedient to the parents in all things, and they understand that being a child of their own particular parents means certain things simply are or are not done if they want to stay faithful to the values of that home.  How many of us have said, “Your mother would roll over in her grave if she saw you do that?”  We understand what faithfulness to the spirit of the parent means, even if some specific idea is not spelled out in black and white.  Why are we so dense when we come to our dealings with God? 

            The next time you make your family’s favorite dish, using every single ingredient because you would hate to disappoint them, remember not to disappoint God either.
 
Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit the orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world. James 1:27 
 
Dene Ward

My back and feet were aching and my hands cramped from peeling by the time I finished.  The seals on the pint jars of apple butter popped and I started the clean-up of unused jars and lids, the large pot covered with sticky residue, and the measuring cups and spoons.  Finally it was over. 

            The apple tree had borne far more than ever before.  I had made several pies, a couple dozen muffins and a cake, and canned two dozen quarts of applesauce, a gallon of apple juice, a dozen pints of apple jelly, half a dozen quarts of apple pie filling, and finally a half dozen jars of apple butter.

            As I stood over a sink full of soapy water I muttered, “I hope I never see another apple as long as I live.”  The next spring my apple tree died.

            When it became apparent that we couldn’t save the tree, Keith looked at me and muttered something about not really knowing what that might mean—the fact that I could curse a tree and it up and die for no obvious reason so soon afterward.  Just exactly who, or what, was he married to?

            The county agent saved my reputation.  The tree was planted too close to an oak, he said.  Oaks carry a disease that kills fruit trees, especially apples and peaches.  Sure enough, we soon lost our peach tree too.

            All these years later, the story came up again, and with it a new perspective.  Here I had cursed a tree that bore too much, while the Lord cursed one that bore too little. 

            And seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to see if he could find anything on it. When he came to it, he found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs. And he said to it, "May no one ever eat fruit from you again." And his disciples heard it.  And as they passed by it in the morning, they saw the fig tree withered to its roots, Mark 11:13,14,20.

            You might do as I did at first and wonder why the Lord would expect to find figs when it wasn’t fig season.  Yet every commentator I read said that figs produce their fruit before they leaf out.  When the Lord saw a fig tree fully leafed out, he had every right to expect to see some fruit, even if it was small and green.  As a gardener I know that nearly every plant has at least one “early-riser”—a tomato or pepper or blueberry that ripens before the others.  Even if there was nothing ripe, there should have been plenty of fruit hanging there, gradually ripening on the leafy branches.

            Now how about us?  Is anything ripening on our branches?  Is the fruit of the Spirit perhaps still a little green, but nonetheless visible as we become more and more what he would have us be?  Or are we nothing but leafy show: lots of pretty clothes on Sunday morning but behavior like the rest of the world throughout the week?  Lots of talk in Bible class, but no good works in the community?  Quoting catchphrases to our neighbors, but never opening the Book in our own homes?  More concerned with winning arguments than winning souls?

            The Lord will come looking for figs in our lives, more than likely at a season in which we are not expecting him.  He told us we would recognize false teachers by their fruits (Matt 7:16-20).  What will he recognize about us from ours or will there even be any for him to see?
 
And so, from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God, Col 1:9,10.
 
Dene Ward
             
 

If you are from north of the Mason-Dixon line, please don’t leave!  I have converted not only several children, but several Northerners to this Southern delicacy.  It’s all about taking the problems and turning them to your advantage--and being patient.

            The problem with okra, if you’ll pardon the expression, is the slime.  One reason it was used in gumbos was its thickening power, which is a nicer way of referring to that viscous property.  My family just calls it what it is.  It doesn’t bother them because they know what I can do with that--stuff.

            Follow these directions closely.  Use a colander, not a bowl, when you slice it.  You will still get the goo on your knife and a little on your hands—my method won’t fix that—but it will disappear when you cook it.

            Slice it about a half inch thick, discarding the stem end and the tails.  If it has been in the fridge a few days, it might need a little coaxing to release some of its “juices.”  If so, put that colander in the sink and scatter a few drops of water here and there from a wet hand.  Don’t deluge it.  If it’s already good and gooey, don’t bother.  Sprinkle it with salt, then with flour, not corn meal.  (My mother taught me that and we are both GRITS—Girls Raised In The South.)  Stir it to coat.  Now walk away.  In five minutes come back.  If it’s dry, do the water trick again, just a sprinkle.  Add more salt and more flour and stir it again.  Walk away again.  You may need to do this several times, allowing the excess flour to fall through the holes in the colander into the sink where you can wash it away—loose flour will burn in the bottom of a skillet. 

            After about fifteen minutes and maybe as many as five applications of flour and salt, the flour will have adhered to the “slime” and, magically, the okra will have made its own batter.  It will stick together in clumps like caramel corn, which is exactly what you want.

            Heat a half inch of vegetable oil in a skillet—no higher than medium high.  Put in one piece of okra and wait till it starts bubbling and sizzling.  Slowly add only as much okra as there is room in the pan.  Since it tends to stick together, you will need to mash it out to spread it around.  Now walk away and leave it again.  No fiddling with it, no turning it, no stirring it. 

            In about ten minutes you will begin to see browning around the edges.  When that happens you can start turning it.  The second side will brown faster, as will the entire second batch.  Watch your oil; you may need to turn it down if the browning begins to happen too quickly.  Drain it on paper towels. 

            You will now have the crunchiest okra you ever ate.  No slime, no weird flavor, nothing but crunch.  You cannot eat this with a fork—it rolls off, or if you try to stab it, it shatters.  This is Southern finger food, a delicacy we eat at least twice every summer before we start pickling it or giving it away.  Too much fried food is not healthy they tell us, but everyone needs a lube job once in awhile.

            The trick to that okra is patiently using the problem itself to overcome it—given enough time, that slime makes a batter that is better than anything you could whip up on your own with half a dozen ingredients.

            Patience is a virtue for Christians too, not just cooks.  How do you make it through suffering?  You patiently endure it (2 Cor 1:6), and you remember its purpose and use it for that purpose.  Patiently enduring suffering will make you a joint-heir with Christ (Rom 8:17,18).  It will make you worthy of the kingdom (2 Thes 1:4,5).  If we suffer with him, we will reign with him (2 Tim 2:12).  Only those who share in his suffering will share in his comfort (2 Cor 1:7). 

            But none if this works if you don’t patiently endure the suffering.  If you give up, you lose.  If you turn against God, he will turn against you.  If you refuse the fellowship of Christ’s suffering, he will refuse you.  We must use that suffering to make ourselves stronger and worthy to be his disciple. Just like I am happy to have a particularly “slimy” bowl of okra to worth with, knowing it will produce the crunch I want, the early Christians “rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer,” Acts 5:41.  They knew it would make them better disciples of their Lord.  We can understand these things when it comes to something as mundane as fried okra.  Why can’t we recognize it in far more important matters?  We even have a trite axiom about this—when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.  When life gives you trials, make yourself a stronger person.

            After suffering, Peter promises that God will restore, confirm, strengthen and establish us (1 Pet 5:10).  He is talking to those who endure, who use the suffering to their advantage and become better people.  Remind yourself of the promises God gives to those who suffer.  Remind yourself of the rewards.  Remind yourself every day that it’s worth it.  The New Testament writers did, so it is no shame if you do it too.
 
The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs--heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him. For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. Rom 8:16-18.
 
Dene Ward

Anyone who knows me knows that my favorite television cook is Ina Garten of “The Barefoot Contessa.”  I have saved very few recipes from the Food Channel, but of the few I have, the vast majority is hers. 

            One of my favorites is her “Ultimate Ginger Cookie.”  This is just about my favorite cookie ever, which is saying a lot for a cookie that doesn’t have chocolate in it.  It’s a chewy cookie, something else I like, and I have added my own little twist by rolling the balls of dough in sparkling sugar before baking them.  But what makes it “ultimate?”  Not only does it have powdered ginger in it, but also over half a cup of chopped crystallized ginger.  There is no question what kind of cookie this is—it’s a ginger cookie.

            I have several recipes with that word “ultimate” in the title.  My “Ultimate Chocolate Chip Cookie” is good too.  Not only does it have half again more chocolate chips than the usual recipe, but two kinds, bittersweet and milk chocolate.  My “Ultimate Fudge Brownie” is maximum chocolate with minimal flour.  My “Ultimate Peanut Butter Cookie” has no flour at all—just gobs of peanut butter, eggs, sugar and vanilla.  Do you get the picture?  “Ultimate” in a recipe means “a lot,” “more than usual,” and “well above average.”  “Ultimate” means there is no question what kind of cookie this is.

            I started thinking about the word “Christian” in that context.  Technically speaking, the word means “a disciple of Christ.”  That is not the way we use it today.  “Christian” gets tacked on to anything that is even remotely religious.  People can claim to be Christians just because they believe in a few of the Ten Commandments, which in itself is ironic when you understand the relationship of Christ to the Old Law.  In our vernacular, Christians do not even have to be members of a church.

            To keep that from rubbing off on us, maybe we should start thinking in terms of recipes.  We should be “Ultimate Christians.”  If we are really followers of Christ we should be different from those who merely claim the name with a few allusions to prayer and God in their vocabulary.

            Real disciples of Christ, by the definition of the word “disciple,” are trying to be as much like their teacher as possible.  They talk like he does and behave like he does.  They know what commitment means—they serve as he did, sacrifice as he did, and fight the Devil like he did every day of his life.  In fact, they are not afraid to acknowledge the devil as a real and dangerous being (like He did), even when others laugh at them for doing so.  They condemn hypocrisy, especially among those who try to claim the same discipleship. They abhor sin, yet seek the vilest sinners in their own environment, knowing they are the ones who need their Master the most.  They have compassion on the ill, the hated, and the lost.  They will yield their lives to their Teacher by yielding their rights to others.  They live by the Word of God, take comfort in the Spirit of God, and glory in their fellowship with them.  In every decision, every event, and every aspect of their lives, they ask themselves how their Lord would have handled it.  They are completely consumed with the spiritual; nothing else matters.

            So, the question today is are we Christians in the modern vernacular, or are we real Christians, “Ultimate Christians?”  Maybe if more of us started showing the world what the word “Christian” really means, we could stop making distinctions. 
 
Whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked...A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher, 1 John 2:6; Luke 6:40.
 
For the recipe accompanying this post, click > Dene's Recipes page 

Dene Ward

I had a great writing teacher and I still remember the things she taught me.  One of the best things she ever said, was, “Don’t fall in love with your own words.”
 
           I had a habit of going off on tangents, especially in expository writing.  I kept making asides, ideas that had nothing to do with my main point.  “You are confusing people,” she said.  “Your main point is coming across as one of several in a list instead of something vital.  If those other things are that important, make a whole new essay about each of them.  If they aren’t important enough for that, they certainly aren’t important enough to ruin what is important.”

            I have tried to follow that advice for nearly forty years now.  It is a lesson speakers need as well.  While tutoring home-schoolers, preachers “in training,” and a few “full-fledged” preachers with their writing, I have finally come up with the perfect analogy.  Grab a can of orange juice concentrate and read the directions.  Pour the concentrate into the pitcher and add three cans of water.  Guess what happens if you add more than three cans?  You dilute the juice, and the more you add the weaker it gets.  Before long you just have orange-colored water. 

            When you have a point to make and use too many words to say it or drown it in a sea of words that do not apply, you weaken your point.  A short pithy statement will stay in people’s minds long after they finish reading (or listening).

            The same thing is true in life.  When we need to rebuke someone don’t we add all sorts of extra words to soften the blow?  Often that is a good idea.  Just the right amount (three cans) can help someone listen to what they need to hear.  But sometimes we add so many that they go away agreeing with us, never realizing it was them we were talking about.  What was that statement Nathan made to David?  “Thou art the man.”  Four little words pierced David’s heart to the core.  We often forget to say that part, not because we are wise and loving, but because we are cowards, not loving enough to say what needs to be said.

            Then there is this sad fact of life:  the more you talk, the more likely you are to put your foot in your mouth.  That is why I try not to judge preachers, elders, and Bible class teachers.  Their job is to talk.  Inevitably something will come out wrong.  Be kind in your assessments.

            Be careful out there.  The more you talk, the more likely you are to hurt someone, the more likely you are to embarrass yourself (and your spouse), and the more likely you are to sin with your tongue.  But when the time comes to speak, be careful not to add too much water to the juice out of fear, but just the right amount to help someone find his way back to the Lord.  God wants pure orange juice Christians.  If He will spew out lukewarm Christians, surely He will spew out the orange-colored water Christians as well.
 
Be not rash with your mouth, and let not your heart be hasty to utter anything before God; for God is in heaven and you upon earth: therefore let your words be few. For a dream comes with a multitude of business, and a fool's voice with a multitude of words, Eccl 5:2,3.
 
Dene Ward

I have several recipes that call for making a reduction sauce as the last step.  The pan in which the meat was cooked is filled with broth or some other thin liquid, the drippings in the pan deglazed, then the sauce boiled down to half or less the original volume, and herbs or perhaps a pat of butter whisked in at the end.  Not only is the sauce thickened, but most important of all, the flavors are concentrated.  I have heard trained chefs say that the reduction sauce can make or break the final product.

           I love those passages in the Bible where the writer seems to boil down a complex situation into two or three simple things.  Suddenly everything becomes clear.  I know what is important because the complex flavors are concentrated enough for me to distinguish them.

            Micah writes what has to be the best of these concentrated passages in 6:6-8.  With what shall I come before Jehovah and bow myself before the high God?  Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?  Will Jehovah be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil?  Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?  He has shown you, o man, what is good, and what does Jehovah require of you but to do justly, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.

`           Far from releasing us from the minute details of God’s law, it says this, “Be righteous, be kind to others, and be humble before God.”  What kind of man will argue with God about what He requires, or even consider that any part of His law does not need obeying?  Certainly not a humble one.

            James boils it down 1:27.  Pure religion and undefiled before our God and Father is to visit the fatherless and the widows in their affliction and keep oneself unspotted from the world. As is the case in many of this type of passage, the widows and orphans are symbolic of anyone who needs help.  In that day and time they were the helpless ones, the ones their society often ignored and oppressed, so it was natural to use them as a synecdoche.  Be kind to others, James said, and later on in more detail (chapter 2), help those who need your help, no matter what kind of help that might be, no matter how rich or poor, how important or unimportant by the world’s standards.  But don’t forget to keep yourself pure, he adds, which can cover the gamut—anything from sexual immorality to sins of the heart to disobedience of any command of God.  In seventeen words, he covers it all.  Amazing.

            Those verbal reductions are powerful.  A list of commands or sins can often become ho-hum when we read them.  Something in us instantly tries to categorize them and rank them.  It becomes a matter of “what I can get away with” instead of what I need to do to be pleasing to God.  But boil it down to a few words and suddenly it is all important.  I need to focus on it all because it all hangs together or falls apart, something many of the Pharisees, and many of us, never seem to understand.

            Those sauces poured over the dish right before serving have ceased to be individual ingredients.  Instead they have become something else entirely, an amalgamation of ingredients blended so well they never separate.  The goal for us is to become something new too, a person who no longer has to think about whether he will do right or wrong, but who automatically does it—a new creature who concentrates on goodness to man and humility before God, no longer questioning but instantly obeying from the heart.

            Do you need a little more boiling?   
 
And one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him.  Teacher, which is the great commandment in the law?  [And so Jesus himself boiled it down to this] You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.  This is the great and first commandment.  And a second is like it, You shall love your neighbor as yourself.  On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets, Matt 22:35-40.
 
Dene Ward

A cooking magazine I read used to run a page of embarrassing mistakes its readers had made in the kitchen.  I probably could have kept the page going for several years single-handedly.
 
           I tend to become flustered when I have company.  We had an older couple over for Sunday dinner once, sweet, kind people whom I should never have been nervous about at all.  Everything was going well as I slid my homemade crescent rolls into the oven.  Twelve minutes later I peeked in to see how they were doing and was horrified.  I had covered them with a linen kitchen towel during their last rise and had forgotten to take it off.

            I pulled them out, managed to remove the towel without mutilating my rolls, and slid them back in, but the damage was already done.  They never did fully rise, instead becoming heavy and doughy and tasting faintly of freshly ironed cotton.  “I thought maybe it was a new-fangled method I hadn’t heard about before,” said my sweet friend.  Indeed—a new-fangled method that did not work very well at all.

            Then there was the time I put a ten pound ham in the oven and very carefully set the oven timer backwards.  Instead of starting at 10:00 and cooking till 12:30, it was rigged to come on at 12:30 and cook till 10:00.  My twelve guests and I walked in at 12:15 to a stone cold ham.  Aren’t microwaves wonderful?  I sliced off enough to go around once, zapped them, and called everyone to the table while the rest finished nuking.  At least I had managed to get everything else done on time.

            And who could forget the first meal I cooked for Keith after our honeymoon?  I pulled the meat loaf out of the oven, holding that brand new Pyrex loaf pan between those slick new oven mitts.  I turned around a bit too quickly and, as I did, that pan slid out of my grasp and sailed across the room landing upside down in the floor behind the table.  Keith managed to duck, but it was a portentous way to begin married life.

            Yet all those embarrassing moments, and many, many others, are stories we laugh about now.  In fact, most of them we were laughing about the same day, often within minutes of their occurrence.  Look how well-balanced we are.  No arrogance here, no stubborn pride.  We can learn from our mistakes, even laugh at ourselves.

            But let one person dare to disagree with us about a spiritual matter and that’s a completely different story.  Our minds are made up; we won’t listen; we instantly dismiss any scriptural evidence we cannot otherwise explain away with, “That’s different.”

            Let anyone dare to tell us we might have erred in our actions and things are even worse.  Instantly we counterattack; instantly we rationalize; instantly we blame that person for our failure to behave as a Christian.  If he had told us differently, we would have listened.  Really now?

            I can hear you and yes, you are right—these are NOT laughing matters, but that makes it even more important that we NOT get too angry to listen, or too ”hurt” to examine ourselves objectively.  I can tell tales about my mistakes in the kitchen over and over, but heaven forbid (or is it some other place?) I actually consider another side to a disagreement or scrutinize my own actions and their motives.

            Why can’t we share stories of change and enlightenment in spiritual matters?  Why can’t we thank the ones who told us we were wrong instead of telling everyone else how horrible they are?  Why is it that the very thing we say all the time, “I know I’m not perfect,” is the last thing we will ever admit?

            Perhaps it’s because we don’t really believe it.
 
He is in the way of life who heeds correction; but he who forsakes reproof errs.  He who hearkens to the reproof of life shall abide among the wise.  He who refuses correction despises his own soul; but he who hearkens to reproof gets understanding, Prov 10:17; 15:31,32.
           
Dene Ward

I do not understand the recent fascination with cupcakes.  To me a special cake is huge, having three layers, interesting ingredients that make it moist and flavorful, and a filling as well as a frosting.  Then I found a recipe for dark chocolate cupcakes with chocolate ganache filling, and a sour cream chocolate frosting.  Okay, I thought, maybe these cupcakes are worth eating.
            I spent two afternoons working on these things, two wasted afternoons as it turns out.  Something happened to my chocolate ganache filling, and I still don’t know what it was.  Maybe I stubbed my toe when I measured the heavy cream and got a half teaspoon too much.  Maybe I crossed my eyes when I weighed the chocolate and used half an ounce too little.  Whatever it was, it ruined the cupcakes.  The picture showed a cupcake cut in half with a rich, creamy filling clearly visible.  Mine had a hole in the center where the filling was supposed to have been.  True, your taste buds could tell something else had once been there, but it was not there any longer, and we couldn’t find it anywhere.  It had simply disappeared, leaving me with just another cupcake, and I was supremely disappointed.
            I wonder if God does not sometimes feel the same about us.  Yes, we must live in a world of sin and evil and hatred and all sorts of villainy.  But He expects us to stand untainted, obviously different than those around us.  Too often we just melt into the crowd.  Maybe you could tell we had once been there—maybe someone remembers a person who was a little different than everyone else, but if he can no longer be found, how long will that influence last? Someone who disappears so easily will not be remembered long.
            We are the sweet filling in the middle of a sinful world.  We should be plainly visible.  We should make the world a better place to live.  Everyone should be scrambling to get to the good stuff—us!  Our speech, our actions, our forgiving nature and calming influence, the fact that we actually stand for something and stand firm in it, rather than going along with the popular notions of right and wrong which change with the seasons—those things ought to make us easy to see, not easily camouflaged. 
            Make sure you stand out.  Make sure you don’t become part of an amalgamation that makes you just another face in the crowd, a hole where something special used to be.
 
So then, my beloved, even as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you both to will and to work, for his good pleasure.  Do all things without murmurings and questionings; that you may become blameless and harmless, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you are seen as lights in the world, holding forth the word of life…Phil 2:12-16.
 
Dene Ward