Several years ago one of the ladies at church gave me a
Ziploc bag of Amish Friendship Bread “starter.” She beamed and clucked about
all the different varieties she had made. Some with peaches, some with nuts,
coconut, bananas, and a variety of other yummies. I could tell she had been
having a fun with this bread (actually, to me it’s more like cake).
For the record, I am not a baker. The extent of my baking
skills ends with canned biscuits and Martha White muffin mix packets. This
woman’s joy, however, was contagious so I took the Ziploc bag with gratitude
and high hopes for that same kind of joy.
The starter is supposed to stay in the bag for 10 days.
During that time, there are certain days you’re supposed to add more
ingredients. The other days you simply knead the bag. On day 10, you mix in
some more ingredients, then measure out four more starter bags to give your
friends. With the mixture that is left, you add more ingredients and then bake
it. Voila, delicious bread (aka cake).
With the busyness of life, I lost track of where I was in
the 10-day cycle for the bag she gave me. I couldn’t remember if I was on an
add-ingredient day or a knead day. I finally gave up and threw it in the
garbage. I was a little embarrassed and defeated. I hoped the friend who shared it with me had
forgotten about it too.
The next time I saw her, she asked about it and I had to
come clean. She was still excited about the whole project and very gracious,
offering to bring me another starter bag. Which she did, only this time she
brought it to me on Day 9. All I had to do was bake it the next day.
That next day was busy and I didn’t get started on the
baking process until late in the day, but I wasn’t going to bed until this
bread was warm and toasty. I hurried through the pre-bake steps and saved the
cleanup until it was in the oven.
As it baked, I washed the mixing bowls and measuring cups
and wiped down the counter. Then I noticed a drip of batter on the lower
cabinet, so I bent down to reach it. Once I bent down, I noticed some flour on
the floor. I got down on my knees with a Clorox wipe to get the flour up off
the floor.
As I knelt there on my knees, I saw a few coffee ground
specks that had fallen to the floor who knows when. On my knees, I saw a dried
up drip of who-knows-what staining the white cabinet door under my sink. On my
knees, I noticed tiny crumbs collecting in the corners of the floor that I
couldn’t see when I was standing upright. On my knees, I saw the dust and dirt
on the baseboards under the cabinets. On my knees, I saw the nasty dirt stains
on my floor.
On my knees.
That’s when it dawned on me. Sometimes it takes getting on
my knees to really see my own dirt clearly. All the stuff that’s messed up
about my life, all the bad choices I’ve made, the responsibilities and
opportunities I’ve ignored, failures due to my own stupidity, all the stuff I
want to hide — when I get on my knees before Jesus, He shows me these things
more clearly than ever before. He brings them to my attention to remind me that
what I need to do about them is simply admit they are mine. Then give them to Him.
When I get on my knees before Jesus, my perspective changes.
Not only do I see how big my pile of dirt is, I also see that great big pile as
a measurement of the amount of forgiveness He has for me.
I can’t see it that clearly when I’m standing on my own two
feet.
Only on my knees.
“Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him
the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should
bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Philippians 2:9-11
This was originally posted December 4, 2016 on www.walterborolive.com
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