Hungry in the Night

It’s 2:46 a.m. and I’m 100% awake.  The howling dogs startled me out of my sleep, as they do every night.  It’s hot, there’s no AC, and now I have a million things rolling around in my brain that keep me from drifting back to la-la land. 

Of all the dumb things that I could think about—because honestly most every thought is dumb at 2:51 a.m.—I’m over here thinking about how pasta is made.  Come on, brain, get it together.  Why in the world is this consuming my thought at this ridiculous hour?  Maybe it’s because I am hungry.  Did I even feed myself last night?  Maybe it’s because I really miss going out to eat at Olive Garden or Bravo or Fazolis.  Or maybe it’s because Jesus wants to teach me a thing.  Sometimes I wish Jesus would teach me these things more like mid-day but alas, I still want to hear what He has to say.

I’ve never ever made pasta because my name isn’t Martha Stewart, but I imagine it goes something like this:

Step 1:  Mix up the ingredients.  Flour, salt, water.

Step 2:  Form it into a ball. 

Step 3:  Roll it out flat.

Step 4:  Cut it.

Step 5:  Put it in hot salty water.

Step 6:  Enjoy the delicious results with sauce and cheese and all the lovely spices.

Hang with me, here.  It’s 2:57 a.m., the stupidest time of the day, and my stomach is growling, but I’m hungry for more of what Jesus is speaking.

Maybe our two year Haitiversary has made me all emotional and sloppy.  But this season of life has felt like Jesus has been in His holy kitchen, making some pasta out of me.  The process has been difficult, tedious, and painful at times—and largely without unlimited salad and warm garlicky breadsticks wrapped in white napkins and the sweet kiss of an Andes mint at the end.  But there’s a promised goodness to come that seems so scrumptious right now.

Jesus’ Six Step Recipe for Making Me into Something

Time Required:  at least two years but probably more like a lifetime

Number of Servings:  hopefully enough to go around

Step 1:  Mix it up.  Take a little bit of this and a little bit of that, basic ingredients like love, hope and desire, and stir it all up.  Dream big about what’s to come.  Oh it’s going to be good.  Here at the beginning, it’s looking a little bit lumpy and bumpy and not at all like the desired end result, but that’s what steps 2-5 are for.  We’ve got some work to do.

Step 2:  Form it.  Take strong hands and give it a good squishing.  Mash it.  Work it.  Mash it some more.  After a little while, this thing will start to come together.  We’re seeing some promise here.  There’s a vision happening, something incredible.  Something fulfilling.  Something hearty.  Something really really goooood.  It’s still just a formless shape, but there’s so much potential!  Yes Lord!

Step 3:  Roll it flat.  Put that bad boy through the roller.  Squeeeeeeze it.  Presssss it.  Put it through as many times as it takes to make it completely flat and just the right thickness.  Did it get messed up the first try?  Don’t sweat--it happens sometimes.  Just squish it all up again and start over.  Flat.  Pressed.  Evenly under pressure.  Be careful not to let it get spread too thin.  

Step 4:  Cut it.  This part is going to hurt a bit.  Or a lot.  But it’s a necessary part of the process to separate the pieces.  In the cutting, in the separating, in the dividing of the parts, this process will yield something distinct, something definite.  Can you see it?  It’s starting to look like the Chef’s vision from the beginning. 

Step 5:  Put it in hot water.  Turn up the heat a bit.  Let that thing boil awhile.  Maybe even drop that mess into the hottest country on planet Earth and see what happens.  Sprinkle some salt to flavor it and keep it from being bland and lifeless.  Turn off the heat at just at the right time.  Al dente. 

Step 6:  Well, honestly, I’m still waiting to see what happens next.  Will this process yield something beautiful?  Something appealing?  Something fulfilling?  Something fragrant?  Do I trust the Master Chef to season it just right?  Do I believe that someday He will finish this masterpiece with a sprinkle of delight and a dash of goodness? I sure hope so, because Steps 2-5 have left me feeling a little bit, well, flat, cut, and boiled.

I realize that all of this is entirely cryptic, because ain’t nobody got time for me to hash out the details, but hear my heart:  God is in the business of making something out of nothing.   It’s a process that involves pressure, pain, and fire.  No one wants to eat raw dough, right?  If it’s going to be good in the end, it takes work.  It takes grit.  It takes capable, experienced hands to complete the process to perfection. 

I am literally nothing, but God is making something.  I’m really glad the Master didn’t scrap this mess back in step 2 when it didn’t look like much…and I’m looking forward to some day tasting the goodness of it all.  And a side of garlicky breadsticks wouldn’t hurt, either. 

For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.  Philippians 1:6