I didn't know what to make for lunch today. I looked in my kitchen at the assortment of random ingredients: one ripe squash from my garden, a bit of cheese, a few mushrooms, milk, rice, an onion. Not very promising. (Think hard, Annie...)
I simmered the rice in a creamy mushroom sauce and added the smoked gruyére. I sautéed the squash in some butter, garlic and fresh basil. I caramelised the onion. I added the squash and onion to the rice and created a sort of risotto (Risotto à la Leftovers?). It was surprisingly good considering its humble beginnings.
This is not a story about cooking, however. It is a story about the ingredients in my kitchen just... being there... and offering themselves to me in availability. They did not hide from me when I opened the fridge, did not resist when I chose them, did not protest to how I used them.
We often compare God to a Master Artist, but what about a Master Chef? What if He desires to prepare an amazing feast of flavours, colours and aromas made up of... us? What if we are comparable to ingredients in a cuisine so grand we can hardly even imagine it? The potential makes us smile, doesn't it? We stand a bit taller, perhaps - hold our heads high - and rise to the hopes and eager expectation of such possibility.
Now imagine what would happen if we hid from God, resisted Him when He chose us, and protested to His recipe? What if we fought to keep to our own little corner of the kitchen and the ingredients on either side of us, and never met the spices on the other side of the room that would release our flavour to its fullest potential? How would that affect the end result? I can hardly bear to think of it, it makes me so sad.
One final imagining, please: what would it look like if we decided to simply... be? To be available, to surrender, to allow ourselves to be carried and moved by the Hands of Grace? Is it possible that a tremendous joy and fulfilment awaits beyond our wildest dreams? I dare say... yes.
I simmered the rice in a creamy mushroom sauce and added the smoked gruyére. I sautéed the squash in some butter, garlic and fresh basil. I caramelised the onion. I added the squash and onion to the rice and created a sort of risotto (Risotto à la Leftovers?). It was surprisingly good considering its humble beginnings.
This is not a story about cooking, however. It is a story about the ingredients in my kitchen just... being there... and offering themselves to me in availability. They did not hide from me when I opened the fridge, did not resist when I chose them, did not protest to how I used them.
Now imagine what would happen if we hid from God, resisted Him when He chose us, and protested to His recipe? What if we fought to keep to our own little corner of the kitchen and the ingredients on either side of us, and never met the spices on the other side of the room that would release our flavour to its fullest potential? How would that affect the end result? I can hardly bear to think of it, it makes me so sad.
One final imagining, please: what would it look like if we decided to simply... be? To be available, to surrender, to allow ourselves to be carried and moved by the Hands of Grace? Is it possible that a tremendous joy and fulfilment awaits beyond our wildest dreams? I dare say... yes.
2 comments:
;) ;) ;) ;)
Yes. You've made my mouth water (you make the best leftovers!)
Ingredients that hide from the cook end up as seeping moldy blobs at the back of the refrigerator. I have some experience of this...
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