My mom cooked; I ate and sometimes cleaned up. That was the extent of my expertise. But Gilbert High, the small rural public school in northeast Louisiana from which I graduated (and which no longer exists), required every male senior to take a session of Home Economics before graduation. I was in deep. It wasn’t the first time, wasn’t the last, but it’s one imprinted in my memory.
Right now, I don’t recall the name of that teacher, and I’m not sure Mrs. HomeEc expected much from us as we stepped into her kitchen classroom, but her southern drawl made it clear – we WERE going to learn to make biscuits. I’m not sure she enjoyed our company, but she figured even a male should know how to make biscuits for breakfast. I don’t recall how many days she spent reviewing the process, helping us mix ingredients, lighting up the ovens, and examining our results, but I do remember she wanted us to know how to make biscuits. And with each day, I gained a sense of confidence as I ate biscuits that I had a hand in making.
My “attempts” included a lot of her hands in the job. She never just watched from the side. She corrected my measuring, my stirring, my rolling, even my stance. She could have done the job much more quickly. She could have made much better biscuits, but she involved me in the process. I did become more comfortable in the kitchen – maybe that’s what she intended.
Today, I can make biscuits without an instructor grabbing the rolling pin from my hands, but I cannot make life work without connection to God. To have a great 2013, I need God’s hands in my life everyday. Many years ago, mathematician and Christian philosopher Blaise Pascal suggested Heavenly Father allows His child to cooperate with Him in Kingdom work to give us the dignity of causality, the feeling of being the cause that produces effect.
Jesus Christ made it clear I cannot accomplish anything apart from Him (John 15:5). I am mistaken every time I attempt something while letting God just watch. In Deepening Your Conversation with God, author and pastor Ben Patterson highlights this faulty omission with a story from a baseball legend:
Great baseball catcher Yogi Berra played a game in which the score was tied with two outs in the bottom of the ninth inning. The batter from the opposing team stepped into the batting box and made the sign of the cross on home plate with his bat. Berra was a Catholic, too, but he wiped out the plate with his glove and said to the pious batter, “Why don’t we let God just watch this game?”
That is good theology when applied to the outcome of a baseball game. It’s terrible theology when applied to the way we live our lives and carry out the work of the church . . . But too often that is precisely the outlook we bring to our vocation as Christian elders, deacons, and pastors. God attends the game, but only as an honored spectator. Our prayers are merely ceremonial functions, like asking the President of the United States to throw out the first baseball at the beginning of baseball season, they are tips of the hat, verbal recognition over the loudspeaker between innings. He may even be in the dugout, but he rarely, if ever, gets on the playing field.
Heavenly Father isn’t content with a good seat in the stands; He wants His hands touching every work of our lives. Through the years, I have given up on biscuits from scratch (store-prepared taste great), but I remember that strong sense of satisfaction from eating biscuits I made by hand. Somehow I learned to make breakfast. I can whip up a good omelet and have my own secret ingredient (pulled from Rombauer’s Joy of Cooking). This morning, I prepared pancakes, bacon, eggs, and even made Patti some pretty good cream of wheat! But every time I start to cook, I feel in over my head.
I was certainly deeply in over my head when I became a pastor. I was a very young 27 when I stepped into role of senior pastor. As a young pastor, I said and did more than a few things I wish I hadn’t. I was in over my head, but God’s grace kept me. I am still walking the path, and I am expecting God for growth. Actually, as a 46-year-old pastor, I am still in over my head. Apart from Jesus, I will accomplish nothing. That’s a lesson I should never forget.
