The kitchen was the organizational equivalent of a child's play place. It was the moment when she looked around at the cheese stains splattered across the stove top, the bubbling mass in the pot turning brown, the overflow of half chopped, grated and spilled ingredients strewn across the countertops that dinner reached its climax. The pasta was turning into one large sticky mass in the strainer. The onion with one chunk ripped out still sat in a partially peeled mass on the cutting board. The one knife in her apartment was a three inch dull blade stuck loosely into its handle and nothing would cut. Not even her finger in fact, when she failed to recognize which side of the metal was sharp and tried to cut with the wrong side, her finger over the upturned blade. Had she doubled all the ingredients like she had planned? She couldn't remember. How much was a roux supposed to bubble before it thickens? She was entirely unsure. Desperation and confusion began to set it and that's when she thought, "I don't know where to go from here. I have no idea what I've already done. I should just scrap it all: its hopeless."
What a dangerous thought.
What is it that makes us believe lies? Confusion and chaos? They can take over our senses until all that's left from the whirlwind of stimuli is a black and white decision made out of desperation to gain control. Candy coated half truths? So close to what we know is good, to what we know we want to taste and see that we latch on and eat our fill, hoping the candy coating will never give way to the reality of the half truth: the lie. Our perceptions. Overstimulated or offered something so close to what we desire, we perceive it is a certain way and we act. What is it that makes us believe lies? Ourselves.
Still, what is it that makes us stay hopeful? What do those optimistic people persons know that the rest of us do not? It would seem they have embraced the sentiment that life is not what it seems. Their perceptions do not build truth. The girl in the kitchen, lost in her college age cooking confusion, was not perceiving anything beyond the confusion, the chaos, and the seductive thought that this could all end if she just turned off all the burners, dumped it down the drain, and ate grapes for dinner.
God, in his ultimate wisdom, knows better than the girl in the kitchen. Knows more about how to make a good roux than she ever will. The fact that he knows what a roux even is has already put him miles ahead of her culinary prowess. God is in the business of knowing truth, of seeing the reality, and working our confusion and chaos out for good. He is in the business of giving us hope, which is precisely why he does not let a good Baked Macaroni go bad.
So, when her roommate and his girlfriend came through the door, God demonstrated the fact that life is not what it seems. The girl took no time admitting her faults. "I need help," she confessed. The first dinner she was going to make as a successful independent woman was going to have to wait until another day, because God had a roux to save.
Her roommate flipped on the fan.
"Did you double the flour?" Semi horror ensued. No. Of course not.
He began to painstakingly dice the onion.
"Did you want this whole onion chopped?" That would be ideal.
She began to follow the recipe again. The milk seemed to drown the sauce and the cheese wouldn't seem to melt, but she kept going and followed the directions anyway. The pair of optimists both kept saying that things have a tendency work out and it would be fine. She trusted that maybe, this wasn't how it seemed, and when she finally got the macaroni in the oven, it was over. No more chaos. No more confusion. It was done.
Sometimes dinner takes two hours instead of the projected fifty minutes. Sometimes pots boil over and sauces start to turn brown. Countertops will inevitably get cluttered. But the truth never changes, and the truth is that God cares about baked macaroni. Beyond our perceptions is a life that is not what it seems, because God plows through our chaos, confusion, and every half truth, and works out our lives for good. He is capable of turning us all into optimists if we're willing to let go of our perceptions and know that he works out all things for the good of those who love him.
The baked macaroni was delicious. A little pepper. A little garlic salt. If God cares about baked macaroni, how much more does he care about our lives? I anticipate the end of my life being like that first bite. Looking back it will all seem a bit traumatic, and maybe a bit overdramatic, but I'll be savoring my resurrected body because of the power and love of Christ.
