Culinary Conundrum

June 16, 2021

Lately, I have been spending lots of time in the kitchen. Somehow I scored really well and married a man who could easily be hired as a chef, and for the first year of our marriage this was a bit of a crutch for me. Growing up I never learned to cook or bake, so why take the time to learn to do it when someone else can do it for me faster and with better results?

But now that I am home full-time, there really is no excuse not to learn. So little by little, I have been finding myself scrolling through cooking blogs, staring blankly into spice cabinets, and asking questions like, “How do you use a rice cooker?” and, “What is the difference between baking powder and baking soda?”

I hate being a novice. While I am completely new to cooking, I already find myself wanting everything to taste, smell, and look like restaurant quality. I enjoy the feeling of pride and accomplishment when things turn out well. But there is no way to jump from the novice level to the advanced level overnight, unless you are one of the few people that God in his kindness has blessed to be a prodigy (which I am not).

Sometimes my meals turn out great, and I am showered with compliments. But on other occasions, my meals are practically inedible. For instance, a couple weeks ago I tried to make vegetable soup. I added flour to thicken it, and then I left the kitchen for a few minutes. When I returned, all of the flour had congealed to the bottom of the pot and burned. The entire soup was terrible on account of that one mistake and had to be thrown out.

When things like this happen, my temptation is to feel ashamed and want to give up. “It’s not worth it,” “I’ll never be any good at this,” and “Better stick with things I already know how to do,” are thoughts that pop up in my head. But when I slow down and take a deep breath, I am reminded that it is not the end product that matters, but the attitude we carry during the process. That is to say, God most cherishes our offerings when they are presented in humility rather than vainglory or self-flagellation. The real issue is not how my culinary art turns out, but why I did it in the first place and with what attitude I worked. Burnt vegetable soup or perfect creamy potato soup, tough and dry pork chops or tender and juicy ribeye, the Lord looks at all of these offerings and smiles when I present them for His glory and not for my own.

Let us work as unto the Lord and not as unto men (Colossians 3:23). Let us not be afraid of looking foolish while worshipping Christ in new ways. And let us choose childlike joy even when things don’t go as we plan.

Lord God, we praise You for delighting in our little human messes and not turning them away in displeasure. What a kind and patient Father You are! Thank You for being concerned with the content of our hearts rather than the outward appearance (1 Samuel 16:7). To Your Name be the glory, Amen.