For the heart in chains...

It's so easy for a heart to be put in chains. 

It only takes an unkind word, an unjust situation, an unfair accusation for a heart to go in bondage under the pain. 

And it weighs. 

It is heavier than a boulder inside your chest. The iron shackles surround it and threaten to drown it in grief. 

The offender wraps the first few chains around it and we add the rest link by link.

When we refuse to forgive, when we feed the thoughts of revenge, when we verbally assault the wrongdoer in our minds, arguing for days with their memory, always winning: sometimes with reason, sometimes with ugly words, sometimes with righteous anger, but always winning. 

Relishing the idea of a confrontation where we come out victorious, but forgetting that when a relationship is broken, nobody really walks away the winner. The real confrontation is rarely as we imagined. There is no penitence on the offender's part, no ready apology, no bowed brow or downcast eyes. There is defensiveness, and frustration, and truth flung back at us that we may not want to hear. It is often messy, always hurtful, and many times disappointing.

So how will this heart lose the chains of having been wounded that are pulling it deeper and deeper into darkness? 

Only when we forgive the undeserving, the one who does not even think he requires mercy, the one who will never utter the words we long to hear. Only then. Only when we give the pain back to the One who suffered like no other and more unjustly than any other, for him to take and to exchange us for peace and mercy. Only then. Only when we let go of the desire to confront, the right to speak our piece, the need for an apology. Only then.

"Come to me, you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest," He said. 

There is no heavier burden than un-forgiveness. There is no more wearisome life than the life of the offended. 

"For my yoke is easy and my burden is light," He said. 

There is no harder yoke than the yoke of self-righteousness. There is no stronger bondage than the bondage of anger. And there is no emptier existence than the existence of those who don't know how to unburden themselves of these shackles.

"I have come that they may have life to the fullest," He said. 

When a heart is drowning in the pain resulting from living with others just as flawed and sinful as itself, grab onto Him who is Life himself and let Him pull you out of the mud of tears and the mire of shattered friendships, and set your feet right back onto the rock of his grace and forgiveness that will then flow out of you and onto others and... 

Set you free. 

Burnt Cookbooks and Second Chances

To say that I didn’t know how to cook when I got married would not begin to describe the depth of my culinary ignorance. To say that I didn’t know how to boil water without burning it would be closer to the truth. Matt should have seen it coming when I offered to cook us dinner on our second date and served him a piece of tough chicken, swimming, yes, swimming, in soupy, yet hard, rice with tomato chunks floating along. Bravely he took a bite and, to his credit, smiled and said it was mmmmhhhh, good but one bite is all he took before claiming he just was not hungry that evening.

Early into our marriage I decided making spaghetti sauce from scratch could not possibly be too difficult. I had, of course, never made it, but how hard could it be, right? It was going fine until the recipe called for “simmering” for 45 minutes. I had no idea what simmering meant but was too proud and stubborn to ask Matt. So, I put the heat on medium (neither too hot nor too cold should be fine!) and left it for 45 minutes. Yup. You guessed it. I had a ruined pan and no sauce to show for.

The first church we pastored had some amazing cooks and bakers and our potluck dinners could be legendary. My reputation in the kitchen preceded me and every time we had a potluck dinner I was asked to bring…a bag of chips. It didn’t hurt my feelings, not really; I understood their trepidation. After the floating pecan pie incident I didn’t have much faith that there was hope for me yet.

Shortly after I quit my job to stay home with the children I began to experiment more and more in the kitchen. Since the house was now my job I decided I should quit asking Matt to make dinner and step up to the plate. The journey was a slow and painful one, but after some trial and error, a few dishes nobody wants to eat again ever, and a cookbook that caught on fire, I began to feel more and more confident that I could feed my family and not poison them.

I will never forget the first time I was asked to bring a dessert to a church potluck. This was our new church and, apparently, they knew nothing of my infamous cooking skills, so they thought it natural to ask the preacher’s wife to contribute a dish to the meal. Oh, joy of joys! I hung up the phone, eyes wide with surprise and wonder, turned to Matt and said: “They asked me to bring a dessert! They asked ME to bring a dessert! They asked me to bring a DESSERT!!!”

This may sound silly to you but my heart was full to the brim. They didn’t know I couldn’t cook, they didn’t assume I would bring pie in a glass, or cookies that would only serve to stop a door. They just gave me a chance and I took it. I spent hours pouring over recipes, watching videos on thefoodnetwork.com and trying to decide what to make. I finally decided, purchased the ingredients, carefully prepared the dessert and proudly took it to church that Sunday morning.

I watched people come up to the dessert table, take a sampling, and take it back to their table…and eat it! My dessert! The word got out that it was the first time I had brought a home-made dessert to a public gathering and people went out of their way to congratulate me and even asked for the recipe. It was nothing complicated, nothing delicious, nothing that those veterans of the kitchen world could not whip up with their eyes closed. But to me, their enthusiasm, encouragement, and grace made me feel like Julia Childs made over.

Since then I’ve gone down a path I never thought I would take. I have developed a love for cooking, and especially, baking, that has brought my family hours of enjoyment, if not a few extra pounds. Today my sweet husband braved the crazy black Friday sales to buy me a Kitchen Aid mixer (the dream of many bakers!) because he says he can’t wait to see what yummy treats will come out of it.

This Thanksgiving I’m grateful for second chances that heal and restore confidence. I’m grateful for new beginnings, clean slates, and opportunities to learn from past mistakes. But I’m even more grateful that I’m a friend of the God who invented second chances, new beginnings, clean slates, and opportunities to learn from past mistakes not only in the kitched but in every aspect of our lives. And a people who, created in his image and following his lead, believe in each other and encourage one another, mentor each other and forgive one another with love, grace, and warmth.