A young woman is making biscuits for her new husband.  When she tries to roll them out she has a problem—they keep falling apart.  It is all she can do to make them stick together long enough to get them on the baking sheet.  And when she tries to take them off, they fall to pieces.  Her husband tells her, “That’s all right.  It’s the taste that matters,” as he gallantly takes a bite, and a little bite is all he can get.  They crumble so easily he cannot even butter them.  Before long, his plate is filled with crumbs and he has not managed to eat even half a biscuit’s worth.
 
           The next morning she calls her mother. “Too much shortening,” her mother says.  So that evening the new bride tries again.  If shortening is the culprit, she reasons, maybe no shortening at all would be even better. 

            That night, as she slides the biscuits off into the basket, each lands with an ominous thud.  Her husband gamely takes a bite, or at least tries to.  They might as well be hockey pucks. 

            I imagine that even non-cooks can see the point here.  Each ingredient in the recipe makes a difference; each one is important and must not be left out—the shortening makes the biscuits tender, the flour gives them enough structure to hold together.  Why are we smart enough to see that here, but forget it when it comes to spiritual matters?

            One group says faith is the only thing we need.  Another says strict obedience is the only thing we need.  One of them bakes crumbs, the other hockey pucks. 

            Every generation reacts to the past generation’s errors by overcorrecting.  Each group is so afraid of making the same mistake that they make another one, and worse, usually sneer at their fathers for missing it so badly, thinking in their youthful arrogance that they have discovered something brand new.  What they have usually discovered is the same error another generation made long ago, the error their fathers tried to correct and overdid as well.

            Why is it so hard to stop that swinging pendulum in the middle?  Why do we arrogantly suppose that the last group did everything wrong and we are doing everything right. 

            Does God want faith?  Yes, the righteous shall live by his faith, Hab 2:4. 

            Does God want obedience?  Yes, to obey is better than sacrifice, 1 Sam 15:22.

            Does God want our hearts? He always has, and why can’t we put it all together?  Thanks be to God…that you became obedient from the heart, Rom 6:17.

            The Hebrew write equates disobedience with a lack of faith.  And to whom did he swear that they should not enter into his rest but to them who were disobedient?  And we see that they were not able to enter in due to unbelief, Heb 3:18,19.

            Can God make it any plainer?  He doesn’t want crumbs; He doesn’t want hockey pucks; He wants a nice tender biscuit of a heart that is firm enough to hold the shape of the pattern used to cut it.  Follow the recipe God gave you.  When you go about your day today, make sure you have all the ingredients.
 
Woe to you scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites!  For you tithe mint, anise, and cumin, and have left undone the weightier matters of the law.  But these [matters of the heart] you ought to have done, and not left the other [matters of strict obedience] undone, Matt 23:23.

Dene Ward

When my mother raised us, she always said, “I’m not running a restaurant.  You get what I serve,” and what she served was always fine with me.  I don’t recall a single bad meal.  Even recently I heard a television cook reminisce about coming to dinner as a child and eating what was put in front of her, so my family wasn’t weird, and neither was I when I followed suit as an adult.  It was as much about finances as anything else, but it certainly helped teach a few things, like, you don’t always get what you want in life and be grateful for whatever there is.
 
             But once in awhile I tried to please everyone as much as possible.  If the main dish was one boy’s favorite, then dessert was the other boy’s favorite.  It was the best of both worlds for them—a favorite entrée and a favorite dessert.

              Recently I have come up with a dessert that has to be the best of both worlds.  I haven’t decided whether to call it a cheesecake brownie or a brownie cheesecake.  It has two layers: a brownie bottom, and a cheesecake top.

              So, if you like chocolate and cheesecake, you can have both in one piece.  If you want chewy and smooth and creamy this is the dessert for you.  If you like chocolate and vanilla, this is even better than Neapolitan ice cream.  It’s even part convenience food and part “from scratch.”  The brownie layer is a mix and the cheesecake layer is all homemade.  A friend told me it’s perfect for her and her husband.  He has celiac disease, so he eats the gluten-free cheesecake layer and she eats the brownie layer.  Like I said, the best of both worlds.

              Now try to convince your neighbors that as a Christian you have the best of both worlds.  All they can see is what you can’t do and how much you sacrifice in time, energy, and types of entertainment.  Especially if all you do is complain about what you can’t do, ruing the messed up weekends, the missed ball games and picnics, what else do you expect?  You are supposed to make your life look like something they will want, not something they will hate.

              So perhaps we should start by convincing ourselves.  We don’t have to go to church; we get to assemble with our spiritual family.  We don’t have to dress differently; we get to look like decent, classy people instead of prostitutes.  We don’t have to give up drinking and smoking and drugs; we get to keep our dignity, breathe clearly, and preserve as many brain cells as possible.  We don’t have to give up revenge and gossip; we get to get along with people and stay out of trouble.  We don’t have to watch our language; we get to look like intelligent people with a real vocabulary.  We don’t have to give up status and money and things; we find our joy wherever we are in any situation—we have learned in whatever circumstances we are “to be content,” Phil 4:12, and contentment equals happiness.

              God does not expect us to be miserable in order to earn Heaven.  Being a Christian is not a horrible life.  It is a life of joy, a life of fulfillment, a life of health, a life of spiritual wealth.  I have more family than any of my neighbors.  One of them was amazed at the food brought during my surgeries, at the women who cleaned my house and the teenagers who raked the yard after Keith had a stroke.  If I ever need help, I don’t have just one person to call, I have a whole list. 

              My marriage is intact and happy.  My children are happy, productive citizens, and servants of the Lord to boot.  We don’t have money problems because we don’t love things and don’t need luxury to be satisfied.  We don’t have legal problems because we are honest and law abiding.  We don’t lose our faith over our illnesses and disabilities because we have something far better in store for us.

              Which leads us to the next world.  If this life has been good—not perfect, for how could it be in a cursed world—the next one will be nothing short of amazing, an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fades not away, reserved in heaven for you,1 Pet 1:4.

              God promises us a “best of both worlds” life, far better than a “best of both worlds” dessert.  But He doesn’t make you eat it.  He gives you a choice.  You can have this world and the next if you do it His way.  Otherwise, this one is all you get.
 
For bodily exercise is profitable for a little; but godliness is profitable for all things, having promise of the life which now is, and of that which is to come, 1 Tim 4:8.
 
Dene Ward
 
If you want the mentioned recipe, click on "Dene's Recipes" on the left sidebar.

If you are a gardener, you have probably made your fair share of zucchini bread.  We quit growing zucchini a long time ago.  We prefer yellow summer squash instead.  At least it has a little flavor.  But it also works for zucchini bread, and I have found a way to make that little loaf that is actually worth baking.
 
             Most zucchini (or squash) bread is compact and dense, and just about flavorless.  Try this instead.  Cut the amount of oil almost in half.  Use brown sugar instead of white granulated, and at least double the cinnamon.  If you use nuts, toast them first.  Then here is the big trick—put all that grated zucchini in a dish towel and squeeze as hard as you can.  You will get anywhere from ½ to 1 cup of water out of that squash.  No wonder the loaf was flavorless. It was literally washed out.

              Now you will have a lighter loaf that is still plenty moist and actually has some flavor instead of that compact brick that hardly rises above the top of the pan.  In fact, you won’t mind serving this one to guests, and they won’t run away and hide when you mention it either.

              Modern organized religion has suffered the same fate as that old zucchini bread recipe.  It is literally washed out from all the additions men have made.  Just as schools are now expected to teach the things that parents should teach at home, churches are expected to right the social injustices in this world and support every worthy cause in manpower and money.  You can read the New Testament from Matthew to Revelation and never find half the things found in a modern denomination.  But then these are the same people who, like the Jews of Jesus’ day, expect a physical kingdom on this earth.  They’ve stopped hoping for Heaven and settled for a poor imitation on this earth.

              My kingdom is not of this world, Jesus said, John 18:36.  Jeremiah prophesied that no one from the lineage of Jeconiah (the kingly line of Judah through David) would ever sit on the throne reigning in Jerusalem, despite the beliefs of thousands of dispensationalists, Jer 22:31.  The work of the church is not about feeding the hungry—it’s about feeding the soul.  It’s not about making sure everyone has a fair shake in this life—it’s about enduring that injustice and preparing ourselves to be fit for the next life.  Check this out yourself:  churches that are sold on the social gospel no longer preach much about heaven.  To them this life is what matters and that’s why they are so hung up on it.  That’s why their religion is so waterlogged with extraneous rituals and activities.  That’s why so many of the “un-churched” are turned off by the dense brick of bread they are handed instead of the bread of life.

              Get out your Bibles and examine your church against the one in the New Testament.  Look through Acts and see how they converted sinners.  Here’s a hint:  it wasn’t with soup kitchens and Wednesday night potlucks.  Now look through the epistles and see the work they did.  It had nothing to do with gymnasiums and playgrounds.  See what they did when they met together for a formal group worship.  It wasn’t about entertainment.  Now maybe you can see the difference between an oily sodden brick of bread and a light flavorful loaf that actually appeals to the appetite.

              But then maybe it’s your appetite that is the problem in the first place. 
 
Jesus answered them and said, Verily, verily, I say unto you, You seek me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate of the loaves, and were filled.  Work not for the food which perishes, but for the food which abides unto eternal life, which the Son of man shall give unto you: for him the Father, even God, hath sealed, John 6:26-27.
 
Dene Ward
 

At the end of the garden season, I dry out my hot chili peppers and make chili powder.  I have found a good formula, one part chili pepper, two parts ground cumin, one part dried oregano, and two parts garlic powder.  The first few times I made it, I used a blend of Anaheim and cayenne peppers.  This year Keith shopped for the chili pepper plants and came home with habaneros.  If you know anything about the Scoville heat scale, you know that cayennes, while not at the mild end of the scale, are a couple hundred thousand units removed from habaneros which sit at the hottest end.
 
           To make chili powder, you must first dry the chili peppers, then remove the stems and grind them up.  A lot of the heat is in the seeds, so I, being a wimp when it comes to hot peppers, shook out the loose seeds as well—habaneros are hot enough as is.  I had enough sense to wear latex gloves while handling these babies, but that is where good sense stopped.  When I took the lid off the grinder to see if any pieces remained intact, the cloud of chili powder, totally invisible to the naked eye, rose up into my face.  How did I know?  My nose started running, my lips started burning, and I sneezed nearly a dozen times.  I had pepper-maced myself.  I am so very glad I had reading glasses on.  I do not know what might have happened to these poor eyes!  I know people who don’t even use gloves to work with hot peppers, but next time I will reach for a gas mask!

            Sin and conscience work the same way.  Especially nowadays when sophistication is judged by how little one allows sinful behavior to shock him, we have a tendency to think we can sin indiscriminately and feel just fine about ourselves afterwards.  What was it Paul said about the idolatrous pagans?  For when Gentiles who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves even though they do not have the law.  They show that the law of God is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts either accuse or even excuse themselves, Rom 2:14,15.  You can’t get away from your conscience no matter how sophisticated you think you are.

            The scriptures are littered with people who suffered pangs of conscience.  Adam and Eve hid themselves after they had sinned.  The brothers of Joseph twice confessed their sin against their brother, attributing all the bad things that happened in Egypt with the hostile “Egyptian” ruler as their just recompense.  Pharaoh, of all people, said to Moses and Aaron, This time I have sinned.  The Lord is in the right, and I and my people are in the wrong, Ex 9:27.   David sinned more than the once we often focus on.  His “heart smote him” after he numbered the people in 2 Sam 24 and his psalms of repentance after the sin against Bathsheba and Uriah abound with overwhelming guilt. 

            Herod was so wrought with guilt after killing John that he thought Jesus was John coming back from the dead.  Peter’s denial caused him to “weep bitterly,” while Judas’s betrayal led to suicide.  Even Paul, a man who surely knew he was forgiven, called himself “the chiefest of sinners” to the end of his life.

            And we think we can get away with sin and have it not affect us?  Guilt is like that burning chili pepper cloud.  You can’t see it, but your conscience will still feel its effects, and if you don’t deal with it, you will lead a miserable life--at least until you burn that conscience out as if you had “branded it with a hot iron,” 1 Tim 4:2.

            Do you know how to get rid of the pain of burning chili peppers?  Dairy products.  If you forget your gloves and those oils get under your nails or in a nick or cut, soak your hands in milk.  That is also why there is usually a dollop of sour cream on most Mexican dishes. 

            Do you know how to get rid of the pain of a burning conscience?  Soak it in the blood of Christ.  It works wonders.
 
For if the blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkling them that have been defiled sanctify unto the cleanness of the flesh, how much more shall the blood of Christ who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish unto God, cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?  Heb 9:13,14.
 
Dene Ward

The first time I received a bushel of pears from a neighbor out here in the country I was disappointed.  I was used to the pears in the store, especially juicy Bartletts, and creamy, vanilla-scented Boscs.  As with a great many things here in this odd state, only certain types grow well, and they are nothing like the varieties you see in the seed and plant catalogues or on the Food Network shows.  We always called them Florida Pears, but recently learned they were Sand Pears, and in this sandy state that makes good sense.  They are hard and tasteless.  In fact, Keith and I decided you could stone someone to death with them.  We nearly threw them away. 

              Then an older friend told me what to do with them.  They make the best pear preserves you ever dripped over a biscuit—amber colored, clear chunks of fruit swimming in a sea of thick, caramel flavored syrup.  Then she made a cobbler and I thought I was eating apples instead of pears.  No, you don’t want to eat them out of hand unless they are almost overripe, but you most certainly do want to spoon out those preserves and dig into that cinnamon-scented, crunchy topped cobbler.  They aren’t pretty; they are hard to peel and chop; but don’t give up on them if you are ever lucky enough to get some.

              A lot of us give up on people out there.  We see the open sin in their lives and the culture they come from and decide they could never change.  Have you ever studied the Herods in the New Testament?  If ever there was a soap opera family, one that would even make Jerry Springer blush, it’s them.  They were completely devoid of “natural affection,” sons trying to assassinate fathers, and fathers putting sons and wives to death.  Their sex lives were an open sewer—swapping husbands at a whim; a brother and sister living together as a married couple; leaving marriages without even a Roman divorce and solely for the sake of power and influence.

              Yet Paul approaches Herod Agrippa II, the son of Herod Agrippa I who had James killed and Peter imprisoned, the grandnephew of Antipas who took his brother's wife and then had John the Baptist imprisoned and killed, great-grandson of Herod the Great who had the babies killed at Jesus’ birth, a man who even then was living with his sister, almost as if he expected to convert him.  Listen to this:

              I consider myself fortunate that it is before you, King Agrippa, I am going to make my defense today against all the accusations of the Jews, especially because you are familiar with all the customs and controversies of the Jews. Therefore I beg you to listen to me patiently, Acts 26:2,3.

              Yes, I am sure there was some tact involved there, but did you know that Agrippa had been appointed advisor in Jewish social and religious customs?  Somehow the Romans knew that he had spent time becoming familiar with his adopted religion—during the time between the Testaments the Herods were forced to become Jews and then later married into the family of John Hyrcanus, a priest.  No, he didn’t live Judaism very well, but then neither did many of the Pharisees nor half the priesthood at that point.  But Agrippa knew Judaism, and Paul was counting on that.

              Paul then spends verses 9 through 23 telling Agrippa of the monumental change he had made in his own life.  Here was a man educated at the feet of the most famous teacher of his times, the rising star of Judaism, destined to the Sanhedrin at the very least, fame and probably fortune as well.  Look at the list of things he “counts as loss” in Philippians 3.  Yet this man gives it all up and becomes one of the hated group he had formerly imprisoned and persecuted to the death, forced to live on the charity of the very group he had hated along with a pittance from making a tent here and there.  Talk about a turnaround.  Do you think he told Agrippa his story just to entertain him?  Maybe he was making this point—yes, you have a lot to change, but if I could do it, so can you.

              In verse 27, he makes his final plea--King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know you believe!  Paul had not given up on changing this man whom many of us would never have even tried to convert.  And it “almost” worked.

              Who have you given up on?  Who has a hard heart, a lifestyle that would be useless to anyone but God?  Who, like these pears, needs the heat of preaching and the sweet of compassion?  Who could change if someone just believed in them enough?

              Sand pears seem tasteless to people who don’t work with them, who don’t spend the time necessary to treat them in the way they require.  Are we too busy to save a soul that is a little harder than most?  Who took the time to cook you into a malleable heart for God?  It’s time to return the favor.
 
And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules. You shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers, and you shall be my people, and I will be your God. And I will deliver you from all your uncleannesses... Ezek 36:26-29.
 
Dene Ward

It is a culinary fact that fat tempers acid.  That is why some of the world’s favorite dishes combine a good helping of both.  Melted mozzarella offsets a tomato-y pizza sauce.  A cheese-stuffed calzone is almost unbearably rich without a small bowl of marinara to dip it in.  A homemade pimento cheese sandwich SCREAMS for a homemade dill pickle on the side.  The South’s favorite summer treat, a drippy tomato sandwich on high quality white bread, simply must be slathered with a glop of mayo.  Fat and acid—the perfect combination; it’s why we dip French fries in ketchup and chips in salsa; it’s why the favorite toppings for a hot dog are ketchup, mustard, relish, and chili.  It’s why we put whipped cream on strawberries and why a Key lime pie is just about the perfect dessert.

            Trials, tribulations, sufferings and afflictions are the acid tests for Christians.  No one wants to go through them, yet we all understand that is what makes us stronger, builds up our faith, keeps us able to endure till the end.  All of us would be spiritual wimps without them. 

            What we fail to realize is that God gives us plenty of fat to offset them.  How many blessings can you count in your life today, not even considering the most wonderful one of all, your salvation?  How many good things happened to you just this morning?  Did your car start?  Did you make it to work safely?  Are your children safely ensconced in a safe place?  Do you still have a roof over your head?  Is there food in your refrigerator?  Is the electricity on, the water running and the AC humming away?  Are their flowers blooming in your yard and birds singing in the trees?  Do you have pleasant memories to calm you in the midst of sorrows?  Is there a Bible in your home and are you free to read it whenever you want to?  Did you pray to a Father who loves you more than anything else?  How many more “fat” items can we come up with?  Probably enough to fill even the gigabytes of memory in our computers if we just took the time to think of them.  If you have trouble, just ask a three-year-old—they are pros at this.

            I don’t mean to make light of people’s problems with this little analogy—but then again, maybe I do.  Paul calls them “light afflictions” in 2 Corinthians 4, and he was including persecution to the death in that context.  Compared to the end result, compared to the reward, compared to our Savior’s sufferings so we could have that reward, our trials and tribulations are light indeed.

            So today, if you are in the middle of a struggle, if the acid is burning your soul, look for the fat God gave you to temper it.  Look for everything good in your day, in your life, no matter how small it may seem.  If that doesn’t work, and sometimes it doesn’t, remember the good that will result from your testing, and don’t let it be for nothing.  Don’t let Satan win.  The bigger the tomato, the more mayo God smears on, if you only know where to look.
 
Wherefore we faint not, for though our outer man is decaying, our inward man is renewed day by day.  For this momentary light affliction works for us more and more exceedingly an eternal weight of glory; while we look not at things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal, 2 Cor 4:16-18.
 
Dene Ward

It’s one of those recipes you don’t really like to admit that you use, especially if you have a reputation for baking from scratch or cooking multi-course meals for your anniversary dinner, meals like a leek and Swiss chard tart as an appetizer, an entrée of veal shanks with sage over polenta with broccoli rabe, ending with pear croustade in a hazelnut crust.  Somehow this recipe doesn’t fit into that mold.
 
             But once in awhile life gets hectic, stressed, entirely too busy, and you find yourself needing a dish for a potluck with exactly one hour to cook it and no extra time for much prep.  So then I pull out this three can, two bottle, two bag recipe, dump it all in a pot and go on with my life.  I have learned not to let it bother me when this stuff gets more raves than another recipe I spent six hours on.  I have also learned not to tell anyone what’s in it until they taste it because it is truly a weird concoction, but oh, so good.

              Those Party Meatballs, as the recipe calls them, have been my salvation more than once.  Sometimes we need something easy instead of something elaborate.  If it meets the need and is just as tasty, who cares?  There will be plenty more times for elegant three layer cakes and brined, crusted. herb-infused entrees.

              God understands that, too.  When I was very young I thought you couldn’t pray except at certain times, using certain phrases, making sure it was long and full of heavy, theological words and concepts, usually from the King James Version.  Why I thought that I don’t know.  The Bible is full of examples of people praying in all sorts of situations, all sorts of postures, long prayers, short prayers, prayers of profundity and simple prayers of just a few words.  Maybe that was the problem:  I just hadn’t studied enough myself.  All I had done was listen to what others told me.

              Now I know better.  Now I know that in the middle of a crisis I can send up a quick prayer for control, for calm, for an easy resolution.  I don’t always need an opening salutation, I can just say, “Help me, Lord.”  I don’t have to preface everything with my own unworthiness.  Usually in the middle of a problem, that is already on my mind anyway and God knows it just as well as I do. 

              I don’t have to find a quiet spot alone.  I can talk to God in the middle of a milling crowd if my child has wandered off and I can’t immediately find him.  In fact, I can scream to Him if I want to.  God understands if there isn’t time to hunt up a closet right now.  In fact, He is more than pleased that I think of Him first in trying circumstances.  He is thrilled that my relationship with Him can be so spontaneous.  There will be other times for reverence.

              God makes it easy for you to talk to Him.  People who have set up word and posture requirements, with ideological notions of “propriety,” are the ones who make it difficult to approach God.  He went to a lot of trouble and pain and sacrifice to make Himself available at any time in any circumstance. 

              You may not want Party Meatballs all the time, but when the time is short and the need is urgent, they will do just fine.  We certainly need lengthy times of humility and reverence in our approach to God.  But God also made a simple way for us when we need Him quickly.  Don’t let anyone mess with His recipe.
 
May all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you! May those who love your salvation say evermore, "God is great!" But I am poor and needy; hasten to me, O God! You are my help and my deliverer; O LORD, do not delay! Psalms 70:4-5.
 
For the recipe accompanying this post click Dene's Recipes on the left sidebar.
 
Dene Ward

Garden time always brings the best eating of the year: fresh green beans, corn on the cob (roasted in the oven, never boiled!), eggplant Parmagiana, squash casserole, fried okra, a big platter of sliced tomatoes, pesto, stuffed bell peppers, chiles rellenos with home-grown poblanos, and on and on and on.  Our first spring garden meal this year came in April. Maybe it was the change from heavier winter meals like chili and stews that made it so good, or maybe it was just good fresh vegetables.  Whatever it was, that panzanella really hit the spot.  And I made a salad into a whole meal with a couple cans of white albacore tuna.

               In the bottom of a big bowl, pour in a couple tablespoons each of olive oil and red wine vinegar.  Add a small handful of chopped fresh basil and parsley, 1 tsp of salt and a half teaspoon of black pepper.  Whisk it all together.  Now add about half a red onion sliced thinly and stir till the onion is coated.  While you finish the rest of the chopping, the onion will mellow out a bit in the acid.

              This next part can be changed up according to what you have available.  French bread is good.  Focaccia is good, and I usually have some leftover somewhere because it is so easy to make.  Cube 4 cups of some sort of hearty bread and put it into a 300 degree oven for at least ten minutes.  (If you want to be a little extravagant, drizzle it with olive oil and toss it with your hands before putting it in the oven.)  It does not need to brown, just dry out a little, and then it needs to cool while you do the rest of the chopping.

Now peel, halve lengthwise, seed, and slice enough cucumbers to make about 4 cups.  Throw that on top of the onion-dressing mixture, but don't mix it up yet.  Dice a large red pepper and throw that in.  Chop 3 or 4 tomatoes and add them.  Now drain the tuna and add it in chunks to the bowl, along with a two or three ounces of cubed feta cheese and a quarter cup of chopped Kalamata olives.  Toss the whole thing and let it sit a few minutes.  Between the tomatoes and the cucumbers, it should begin to exude a lot more liquid than you first put in there.  (Note:  the tuna is not an ordinary part of panzanella and you can leave it out if you wish.  I added it to make it more of a complete meal.)

Finally, add the cooled bread cubes and toss.  Yes, it will look like it's mostly bread, but it really isn't.  Once that bread starts to soak up the juices it will begin to shrink a bit.  Sit down and eat immediately.  The bread will be half soaked and half crunchy, which is perfect.  The more you eat, the more you will want to eat.  That first meal of this year's bounty was the best thing I had eaten in months.  Especially those bread cubes.

And now you are waiting for the spiritual lesson I somehow manage to find in the most mundane things, right?  Usually I can come up with something in a day or two, if not right away.  Well, I have been looking for it for over a month now and it still hasn't come to me.  I have made lessons out of everything from chicken and dumplings to cherry pies, from shedding dogs to dead possums, but for some reason this panzanella has evaded me.  But today I suddenly thought—maybe that's the lesson!

I am big on finding a purpose in your life that will help promote God's plan to save man.  If you have studied my Born of a Woman class book you know that.  My purpose in God's plan may be as simple as the Samaritan woman's, who ran and told her neighbors, Come see a man who told me all the things I ever did.  Can this be the Christ? (John 4:29).  Or it may be as complex as Joseph's, who over 20 years' time and the freewill actions of a couple dozen different people managed to be in a position to save God's chosen nation, and more specifically, the line of the Messiah.  …For God sent me before you to preserve life (Gen 45:5).  God does intervene in our lives through the freewill actions of others and in His great power and wisdom makes things happen according to His will.

Some of our purposes are fixed by the choices we make.  When I marry, I have the obligation to be a helper to my husband, helping him get to Heaven being the most important.  When I choose to have children, I have placed upon myself the divine purpose of raising those children "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."

But sometimes things just happen.  Sometimes it may even be a result of someone else's poor decision.  Like the man who decides he is not too drunk to drive and crashes into a minivan filled with a family of five, or runs down an innocent pedestrian.  My part in God's plan has suddenly changed if I survive that.  Now I have the opportunity to show His grace by the way I handle this adversity, by the way I refuse to give in to despondency, by the way I forgive, and a host of other things.

And this may be the hardest thing to accept:   sometimes there is absolutely no rhyme nor reason for any of it.  I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of skill; but time and chance happen to them all. (Eccl 9:11).

I hear people giving comfort I am not sure they should give.  "God has a plan," we tell our distraught friends.  Yes, He does, but do not be so arrogant as to presume that you know exactly what it is or that this tragedy is even part of it.  As much as I believe that God will use what I do to further His plan, I would never decide for Him what that use should be.  I would never assume that my feeble mind can even begin to comprehend His glorious thoughts.  And I would never, ever tell someone who has experienced a calamity that this is God's Eternal Purpose at work.  The only thing I could ever be sure of is that this is my chance to comfort a soul, and I would do that the best I could.

It may be admirable to constantly try to find the spiritual benefit in every little thing that comes along.  In fact, I hope it is.  It is certainly better than thinking evil, or even idle thoughts all the time.  But sometimes panzanella is just panzanella.  Nothing more and nothing less.  Just a tasty salad that reminded me to thank God, not only for his great and marvelous plan to save us, but for the simple things that make this sin-cursed world a little easier to bear, too.
 
​Commit your work to the LORD, and your plans will be established.​  The LORD has made everything for its purpose, even the wicked for the day of trouble.  Everyone who is arrogant in heart is an abomination to the LORD; be assured, he will not go unpunished. (Prov 16:3-5)
 
Dene Ward
 

I first had one thirty-nine years ago in a rural community southwest of here.  The farm wife put them on the table in a clear gallon jar and we dug into the neck with a long skinny fork she must have found just for that job.  They were sweet, thin, crisp, gave a crunch as loud as a kettle-cooked potato chip and left a small twinge in your jaw right under your ear from the perfect amount of vinegar.  It was the first sweet pickle I had ever liked—I am more of a dill fan myself--but I was becoming more and more adept at canning and preserving and wanted to give this one a try since the whole family liked them.
 
             "Could I possibly have the recipe?" I asked her.

              She hesitated and I presumed it was one of her "secret" recipes that she did not like to share, but no, that was not the problem at all.

              "It's a really old recipe with strange directions," she said, "but if you can figure out what they mean and follow them carefully, it does work.  It is very important that you follow the directions carefully and don't change anything."

              My first thought was that she could easily write it so I could understand it, whatever the problem was, but when she handed it to me to copy for myself, I saw the issues right away.

              The recipe called for "a gallon of water and enough salt to float an egg." 

              "I've never measured it," she said.  "I just keep adding salt to a gallon of water until an egg floats."

              Oh, well, all right. 

            The next ingredient was "a ten cent tin of alum."  If you have bought any groceries lately, you have probably not seen anything for ten cents, and you probably haven't seen a tin of alum either.

              "Just find a small container of alum and buy it," were her not so helpful instructions.

              At least the rest of the directions were clear—sort of.  On day four when you layered cucumbers and sugar, you assumed it was granulated sugar and you also assumed that it needed to be enough sugar to form a real layer, not just a mere sprinkling.  She didn't really help me with that one.  "Until it looks right," doesn't help if you've never seen it before.

              But I took that recipe home and went at it.

              Day 1—Wash and slice enough cucumbers to fill a clear gallon jug.  Dissolve enough salt to float an egg in a bit less than a gallon of water, and pour over the cucumbers.  Put on the lid and set aside for 24 hours. 
              It must have taken me 15 minutes to get the salt right.  I kept adding it by the tablespoonful, determined to find a set amount and that stupid egg kept sinking right to the bottom of the pot.  Finally I tossed the tablespoon measure aside and just poured it in.  At something just over a cup, the egg sank under the water, then slowly rose so that a piece of shell the size of a quarter showed above the surface and the egg bobbed up and down freely when I jiggled the pan.

              Day 2—Pour out the salt water and rinse the cucumbers.  Dissolve the alum in the same amount of clean water and pour it over them.  Cover and set aside for another 24 hours.  I had finally found the alum at a small town grocery store just ten miles up the highway.  Even all those years ago, its price had risen nearly 700% to 69 cents.

              Day 3—Pour out the alum water and rinse the cucumbers.  Pour distilled white vinegar over them until covered.  By that third day, they had shrunk enough that the cucumbers no longer filled the gallon jar, and you needed nearly a gallon of vinegar to cover them.

              Day 4—Pour out the vinegar.  DO NOT RINSE.  Sterilize either a gallon glass jar or several pint jars.  Add a layer of pickles and then a layer of sugar, again and again until you fill the jar(s).  Put on the lid and set it in your pantry.  By this time, the pickles are so preserved, you don't even have to seal them!  In a week or two, the sugar will have dissolved and mixed with the vinegar that remains on the pickles and make the sweet pickle juice.  Chill before serving.

              My family loved these pickles.  Some days I put a new pint jar on the table with a meal and it was emptied by the time we finished eating.  And here is the thing I want you to think about today:  it was an old recipe.  It sounded a little odd.  In fact, I had to translate it here and there into something that fit today's ingredients.  But I still had to follow the recipe for it to turn out right—nothing was intrinsically different about what I did.  And it still worked.  Never have I seen another recipe like it.  No other pickle recipe tells me I don't have to seal them in a canner so that we don't all get botulism.  The procedure preserves them that well.

              God has a recipe too.  People today think it's odd.  They look at it and think it won't work anymore.  They think they can change it and it will still turn out fine.  Certainly no one's spiritual health will suffer if we just change this one little thing to suit us.

              Botulism is a pretty nasty disease.  So is sin.  So is disobedience.  Be careful when you decide that God's old recipe is too much trouble, too hard to understand, or no longer relevant.  I'd hate for you to get fatally ill over it.
 
Thus says Jehovah, Stand in the ways and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way; and walk therein, and you shall find rest for your souls: but they said, We will not walk therein.  And I set watchmen over you, saying, Hearken to the sound of the trumpet; but they said, We will not hearken.  Therefore hear, you nations, and know, O congregation, what is among them.  Hear, O earth: behold, I will bring evil upon this people, even the fruit of their thoughts, because they have not hearkened unto my words; and as for my law, they have rejected it. (Jer 6:16-19)
 
Dene Ward

We finished dinner and for probably the 50,000th time, I laid my folded napkin to the side of my plate.  You could hardly tell it had been used.  I looked across the table.  Keith's napkin lay in a crumpled up wad a good foot to the side of his plate.  We won't even go into the stains, but please tell me how a dinner of pot roast so tender it fell to pieces, mashed potatoes, carrots, and green beans from the garden could result in that!

              And you now know why I do not use paper napkins.  Keith would use half a dozen at every meal.  That simply does not fit into my grocery budget.  At least cloth napkins are washable and therefore reusable, and you don't have to worry about picking up the greasy white shreds that have snowed all over the floor after a meal of ribs or fried chicken.

              From the very start of our marriage we have used cloth napkins, not just for company or formal occasions—all the time.  Over the years I have amassed a stack of four or five dozen I suppose, maybe more.  And it did not take long to learn one important thing about napkins, and here it is.

              After eating with us a few times, a kind lady I knew wanted to help me out.  So she bought a remnant of permanent press cloth, a pretty floral print with a beige background.  It was actually a perfect match for my china.  She carefully cut out 12 inch squares and hemmed them on all four sides.  "You won't have to iron these," she said as she handed me a dozen beautiful cloth napkins.

              I used those napkins for years just because they were a gift, but now that sweet lady is gone and so are those napkins.  Unlike cotton, permanent press, at least in those days, did not soak up anything.  If you had a small spill, they merely pushed the liquid around.  If you had a smear of grease on your hands or face, it was still there after you wiped.  They were beautiful to look at and no, I never did have to iron them, but useless when you needed them to do what napkins are supposed to do—absorb messes.

              After forty years of standing in front of Bible classes and even larger groups of women, I can say that some women are cotton napkins and some are permanent press.  I imagine any man who has taught Bible classes, or any preacher, can say the same thing.  You can tell when someone is interested—they soak it up.  Sometimes it's the note-taking; they can't seem to do it fast enough.  Other times it's the look in the eyes, the posture, or even facial expressions.  When you are planning a speech, you expect a laugh here, a gasp there, a groan or even the feminine variety of "Amen."  You expect some sort of reaction if you have crafted your words carefully enough and chosen the scriptures that will suddenly slam the door on an attitude or behavior that needs changing.  When you get none of that, either you don't know what you are doing after all, or no one is paying good enough attention.

              Every time you attend one of these functions, every time you hear a sermon or sit in a Bible class, and every time you open your Bible for some real Bible study, it should change you.  At first the changes will be big.  You are new to this Christian business so you have a ways to go and the alterations should be noticeable to those who know you best.  Then as you mature spiritually, the changes will become smaller—maybe an attitude adjustment, maybe just a change in private behavior that few people will see, but a change nevertheless.  If that does not happen, you have become a permanent press napkin.  You might look good on the outside.  You might even match the "china" around you on Sunday mornings.  But instead of soaking up the Word, the water of life, you will just be pushing it aside out of your way.

              Even one permanent press napkin in the audience is too many.  Check your label today and see what you are made of.
 
And have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. Col 3:10
 
Dene Ward