Awesome Sauce

This devotion got lost in the Thanksgiving festivities at Internet Cafe Devotions so I'm offering it as a second helping. Admittedly it's not very Christmas-y, but the message is a tasty treat any time of year. 

At the end of October my spindly tomato plants gasped their last breath. The tomatoes’ cracked skins, rot and dark spots told of the ravages from too much rain, cooler temperatures and lessening sunlight.

Although they’d be rejects at any produce market, I picked what I could and brought my battered harvest inside. Since they didn’t look appealing to slice and eat, I decided to make sauce.

I concocted a simple recipe, added the chopped tomatoes, and left the sauce to simmer for a long time. When the time seemed right, I nervously took a taste.

I was amazed! The sauce was awesome—nuanced, sweet and delicious! It shouted, “Blasphemer!” to the jarred sauce in my pantry. I marveled at how a bowl of ugly, half-rotting tomatoes became something so magnificent.

Sometimes I feel like one of those late season tomatoes--overwhelmed by imperfections, cracks and flaws. I feel battered by bad habits, rejection, insecurities and the lies of the enemy. Certainly God, you’d rather choose someone more perfect and appealing.

But I know in my heart this isn’t the way God sees me. Or any of His children.

During His ministry, Jesus’ went out of His way to find the “bad fruit”—like Samaritans, prostitutes, adulterers, lepers and tax collectors. Those who’d been stamped “unacceptable” by society, He gathered them close to forgive, teach, heal and love. It was to the most flawed and the most unlikely that Jesus revealed His Truth and amazing grace.

When the grade A fruit—the Pharisees—asked Jesus why he wasted His time with the rejects He answered them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” (Luke 5:31-32)

My translation says: “I have not come to pick the reddest and most perfect fruit; I’ve come to gather the bruised, rotting and broken to make something glorious with them.”

Jesus says this to me and He says it to you.

Maybe you feel like you’re less than perfect. That you’re more bad fruit than good. That you belong in the compost pile. Know that this is where our Savior does His greatest work. His grace redeems our spots, cracks and rot. His strength makes our weakness perfect.

Where we see ugliness, God sees beauty. Where we see failure, He sees possibility. Where we see flaws, He sees perfection.

But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.’” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10, NIV)

Just as a pot of half-rotting tomatoes simmered over a flame was transformed into magnificent sauce, our broken, sin-filled lives refined by the fire of the Holy Spirit are transformed into glorious new creations.

That is Awesome Sauce!

Garden Primer

Today marked a personal first.

I ate a cantaloupe grown in my own garden.

Now before you admire my exceptional gardening skills, let me tell you—this has been my worst year gardening.
In March I planted cold-weather seeds like lettuce, pea, spinach and arugula. I pictured bushy plants and the bounty of salads we’d have. And I waited with anticipation for the seeds to germinate and the plants to grow—“35 days to harvest” the seed packets promised.

I waited. And waited. And waited. 35 days became 50, then 70...

A few sprouts emerged. The peas gave early hope of success. But just when the peas started to climb their trellis, a critter got to them. It was a pea pod massacre.

Seemingly frozen in time, tiny shoots of lettuce didn’t grow. And I’m not sure the spinach ever germinated! It all gave new meaning to the term “micro greens.”

Discouraged, but not defeated, in May I set my sights to the summer planting. I added compost and fertilizer to spruce up the soil. Tiny tomato, cucumber, zucchini and melon plants made their home in my garden. Yet again, I had hope.

At the end of June (100 days after planting) I discovered that the lettuces had finally grown enough to be picked. Excitedly, I snipped off some tender leaves and went inside to concoct a salad. I took a bite. Mmmm! Wait … does the lettuce taste bitter? Nah. Well, maybe… but it’s not that bad, really.

The next week I picked a leaf of lettuce and bit it. The bitter flavor filled my mouth. “Yuck!” I said and spit it out. Lettuce season was officially over. One, one-person salad was the extent of my harvest. I ripped out the plants to make room for the summer bounty.

The good news is that I’m having the best tomato season I’ve had in a long time. Gazpacho, BLTs, tuna stuffed tomatoes, tomatoes and mozzarella, and plain old sliced tomatoes have been dietary staples for the last month.

The other summer plants showed promise. Now the cucumber vines are yellowing and ready to bite the dust. The zucchini got a root rot after only a few weeks of producing fruit. Now the condition is spreading to the melons and they’re dying too. Plus, the weeds are taking over, too.

But how exciting it was to discover a cantaloupe growing in the giant tangle of melon vines! Our first one—ever. Sadly, however, it might be the only one.

So yes, I’m bummed about the unfruitfulness of my gardening efforts. My gardening motto has always been “low maintenance.” I plant and water, and fertilize a little bit. Veggies grow. We pick them. We eat them. I don’t want to go to a lot of trouble.

In my personal and spiritual life I want low maintenance, too. I‘ll sow seeds to share the gospel, till the soil of my gifts, fertilize a friendship or water a ministry. And I expect to see results.

But often, like my garden, there is no harvest. A friendship doesn’t blossom. Efforts to share my gifts are unfruitful. A ministry withers. I’ll be honest. My response isn’t to dig deeper and try harder. It’s to reassess and move to greener pastures. I don’t want to waste my time—or suffer the disappointment.

In any type of garden—real or metaphorical—it’s hard to keep going when we can’t see the results. But doesn’t this attitude run contrary to the gospel message? Isn’t our motivation for more than what is evident before our eyes? Aren’t perseverance and generosity key components of living a life surrendered to the Master Gardener?

Indeed, God’s Word offers instruction: “Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” (2 Corinthians 9: 6, 8)

I hear Jesus saying, “Keep going. Keep sowing. Keep tending—in all your gardens—one cantaloupe, one heart won for me at a time. Don’t strive for results you can see. Strive because you love me. I will bless your efforts abundantly. Take time to plant and to water, but know that it is I alone, who makes things grow. Trust me to take care of the harvest.”

This week wild weather hit our area. Thunderstorm after thunderstorm dumped buckets of water on my flailing garden. Mini-floods surrounded it. And even hail pummeled it. The wounded plants are history and the living ones are limping.

But, the skies will clear and the sun will dry the soil. Bountiful harvest or not, I’m not ready to quit. After all, fall lettuce planting season is right around the corner and I have hope.

Lettuce, anyone?