Starving in the Kitchen
Since I was a young girl, I wanted to become a fabulous cook. Cookbooks held the magic key that could open that gate. I gazed in amazement at the glossy photos while daydreaming of making an equally stunning spread.
As I pored over those cookbooks, several thoughts pulled up a chair for a chat.
“I could never be a great cook; that’s too hard.”
“That’s not even realistic. Regular people don’t cook or eat like that.”
“I don’t know enough to be a good cook.”
So, at mealtime, I often plunked a square of ramen into a dish and nuked it. I often stood at the kitchen counter, poring over photographs of gorgeous, nutritious meals as I slurped up my briny noodles. Although ramen is easy and inexpensive, it hardly rates as a healthy meal. However, there I stood at my kitchen counter, choosing what was quick and easy over what was best.
Before me, in plain English, were amazing recipes with detailed instructions. My kitchen was well-stocked. Everything I needed was right in front of me, but I was neither becoming a great cook nor eating nourishing food. Why? Because I was doing nothing with the information before me, other than wishful thinking. I was opting for easy rather than the hands-on work it takes to become a great cook.
Then one day someone said, “You can starve to death reading a cookbook!”
The application was clear. If I were ever going to be a fantastic cook, I would have to do the messy things the recipes required. I would have to stop planning to cook—someday. I would need to don an apron, roll up my sleeves, and get to work--so I did.
I chopped onions; my eyes watered. I trimmed meat; my hands were gooey. I kneaded dough; my stomach was well-floured. My efforts were rewarded as aromas rose from sizzling skillets. I laid the table with real dishes, and friends and family gathered around. We raised a prayer together and passed the laden platters. Conversation and laughter arose. We relaxed and enjoyed one another’s company. I silently vowed to make a habit of those messy and mundane tasks that fostered this warmth and fellowship.
Inherently, we long for spiritual depth and authenticity, yet often wonder how to get there. Where is the trailhead to that sacred path? As we admire the faith of others, familiar thoughts are happy to pull up a chair for a long chat:
“I could never have strong faith like that. She’s naturally spiritual and relational.”
“I know daily disciplines are the route to depth and authenticity. I’ll get serious about that—when school starts—after the holidays—in the new year. . .”
“Strong faith is for pastors and Bible teachers, not busy people with jobs, real-life pressures, and family drama.”
However, scripture clearly marks this path. Christ calls out at the trailhead:
“Come, all who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and oil without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.” (Isaiah 55:1-2)
He’s provided a light to guide our journey: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path. (Psalm 119:105)
We regularly ingest scripture; it becomes knit into the fabric of our souls as we become anchored in the bedrock of truth. We commune openly and deeply with Him in prayer; His Spirit testifies to ours that we are His and He is on our side. We pursue eternal investments like people and truth; our life pursuits become focused, fruitful, and richly rewarding. We become uncommonly strong people by the daily pursuit of uncommon disciplines.
Scripture states it this way: “But blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when the heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in the year of drought and never fails to bear fruit. (Jeremiah 17:7-8)
“As for the saints who are in the land, they are the glorious ones in whom is all my delight. (Psalm 16:3)
“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies, You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. (Psalm 23:5), and “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and he with me.” (Revelation 3:20)
The intimate friendship of the supper table with the Ancient of Days? Absolutely! When everyday people do uncommon things like ingest scripture, talk with God openly in prayer, practice audacious trust, and invest in others with kindness, we become uncommonly strong, beautiful, and authentic people.
The choice rests with us just as it did with me and my stack of cookbooks. Was I going to continue subsisting on ramen while remaining a mediocre cook, or get busy in the kitchen? Will we continue to ignore the inner restlessness that loudly whispers: “There’s much more to this faith-walk. Depth, beauty, and authenticity await true seekers.” Will we search out and take the steps required? The depth we desire is available for the taking. Will we take the necessary steps or continue to “read cookbooks”—hungering for more while starving in a well-stocked kitchen?