Biscuit Miracles

A day without biscuits is, well, a miracle.

Do you want to know what a major miracle would be in my life?  If I suddenly developed an aversion to onion rings and biscuits.

Seriously… sometimes the things I despair about and long to change come down to the nitty-gritty.  Do you agree that it’s the personal Achilles heels and the “I can’t do it on my owns” that plague us, bite us on the ankles, and stalk us through our days and nights?

When we want a miracle, as most of us do, we think first of the truly big things in our lives, the loved ones with stage four cancer or the need to come up with the money to pay the mortgage before we lose the house.  As well we should.

I imagine that the truly saintly among us even ache for miracles that would benefit those we don’t know or situations that are only peripherally related to us — the urban poor, struggling Sudanese refugees seeking asylum, or birds and fish expiring from toxic oil spills.

Yet most of our days are spent with lilliputian problems that we just accept, or fail to imagine not accepting.

I was reading a passage today in an interesting little book, Jesus Calling, by Sarah Young.  A friend gave it to me, and I read it most days. Based on Biblical passages, it’s written as if Jesus were speaking to us himself.  My reading of it today coincided with my preparing to teach this morning on passages from Mark 5 and Luke 8, the stories of Jairus’ daughter and the woman who has bled for 12 years.

These are two desperate situations, in which people throw themselves at Jesus (who is at that point ceremonially unclean himself) out of dire need.  Both (almost incidentally to the point of the stories in my opinion) receive miracles of healing and restoration to life (literally in one case, communally in the second case in which the woman had been an outcast for 12 years).

Read the Jesus Calling passage as if Jesus were speaking to you himself:

“… True dependence is not simply asking Me to bless what you have decided to do.  It is coming to Me with an open mind and heart, inviting Me to plant My desires within you” (January 5 passage).

This reminds me of the time when Jesus asked a man if he believed, and he replied, “I believe.  Help my unbelief.”

I think we get hung up on theology, proper doctrine, wondering which creeds someone believes or can cite, but what Jesus says is, “Come.”

And I believe that the “Come” applies to whatever we need, wherever we are stuck, and however He can help.

Yes, we should come when everything in us is moaning and groaning over the friend who’s wrecking her life with alcohol and all we can do is watch and pray.  Yes, we should come when we have wrecked a friendship and wonder if it can be restored.  Yes, we should come when the intractable is before us, and we want to see it behind us.

But today I’m thinking that we can also come, simply and expectantly, when what we need sounds easier than some of the real toughies (but really probably isn’t, in that an impossible journey of an inch is no less impossible than one of a mile).

I want to believe (Help my unbelief!) that I can simply ask for God to plant His desires in me, and that after falling at his feet or touching the hem of his garment, I’ll walk on forever changed.

That would mean that I could easily forego enough onion rings and biscuits to get my health under control.  That would mean that I could care more about pleasing God than pleasing people.  That would mean that I would orient myself towards the kingdom of heaven and away from the riches of this world (in all forms).

Those would be miracles. And even biscuit miracles are wondrous and, dare I believe, possible.

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~ by Cary on January 5, 2011.

4 Responses to “Biscuit Miracles”

  1. Ah, how true and so well stated! You have such a light and elegant style and you write about our souls so charmingly. I’m so glad to know you and to have this blog to illuminate my days. THANK YOU!

    • And though I can’t say that I learned to make biscuits from you, I did learn to make BREAD from you. For which I thank you, although that talent has caused a few problems along the way! But well worth it to hang out with you at a formative time (and since).

  2. That would mean that I could easily forego enough onion rings and biscuits to get my health under control. That would mean that I could care more about pleasing God than pleasing people. That would mean that I would orient myself towards the kingdom of heaven and away from the riches of this world (in all forms).

    LIKE!

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