I am super-mama!
Up early and already a double batch of date-pecan-bran muffins, oven fresh for my family. Feeling quite ambitious, I cracked two more eggs into the bowl to make a double batch of blueberry muffins next. When my family took a break from playing princesses, I joined them to eat breakfast. Then I sat. And I realized I had not been in the Word yet today. I reasoned the eggs would be fine while I read.
The crucifixion today. Matthew 25 and 26. Read of Jesus flogged, beaten with a reed upside the head, hit and spit in the face. The jeers, mockery, and taunting. Imagined the slow suffocation, fever, agony of the cross. All for our sake. The scapegoat. He took on punishment for what I did and I got to go free.
Pregnant and now full and tired on the couch, His suffering for my life reminds me I need to quit complaining about my pregnancy pains. These little sufferings for the price of bringing forth life in my child. Worth it! Just like Jesus in His sufferings counted us worth it and never complained.
My dear husband cleans the kitchen and reminds me that the oven is still at 400* and it’s feeling warm in the kitchen. The eggs call to me too.
With a sigh, I get up. My daughter is in the other room on the toilet carries on an involved and hollered conversation to me in the kitchen. She tells me of her progress, how its stuck, and when its working, and even the importance of drinking water with all the fiber from the bran muffin. She asks me what are all the holes are for. Without a thought (and while measuring out the oil and honey in an 8-cup measuring bowl), I holler back to my four-year-old, “One is for peeing, one’s for having babies and the other one’s for pooping.” I pause mid-way pouring the oil. Did I just say that? Did we just have that conversation? Sigh.
I add milk and have now gotten all mixed up in my measurements, doubling the batch and using less oil and honey than the recipe called for… I’m getting nervous. A little flustered. My husband comes in as I dump some frozen blueberries in the flour mixture (bad idea). Then I accidentally drop the bag, spilling tiny blue bombs all over the floor.
I knew better. The blueberries need to be folded in after the batter is mixed or it will bleed. And it did bleed. Now the batter is partially liquid and partially frozen hard to the berries, not blended at all. I fear over-mixing or they will be tough muffins. I begin to get angry and frustrated.
Super-mama is failing.
The price of that organic spelt and graham flour and those wild blueberries accumulate in my head. I snap at my husband (who happens to be helping clean the berry-blue mess off the floor). I blame my daughter for interrupting my train of thought. I complain that I am over-tired and got up too early.
Finally, muffins in the oven, light on, I squat down and peer in. My head hangs low and I tell the Lord I am so sorry. All this, minutes after marveling at His sacrifice. All this to a servant-hearted husband and a beloved, inquisitive child. I ask forgiveness.
Also, I’ve baked enough to know that I turned very good ingredients into flat, grey bricks. And even though I feel guilty and undeserving, I also ask God to redeem the muffins. I almost didn’t ask that, kind of like self-punishment.
“Please forgive me. And please redeem this mess I’ve made.”
I check them at half the baking time. Beautiful shape. Moist. If the berries had not bled giving them a grey color, they would be the MOST beautiful muffins I have ever made. Tall. Fluffy. The taste-test proves it—God redeemed them! He heard my prayer!
When my husband bravely came back to check on me, I told him about the wonder and said, “I feel like a blueberry muffin today.”
“You feel like one?”
“I am this blueberry muffin. I would be a total screw-up if it weren’t for God answering my prayers.”
God turned a tough, hard waste into a sweet, beautiful creation. I love that the only consequence that remained from my baking and attitude failures was the blood-stain of the crushed berries.
“He was crushed for our sins.” Isaiah 53
I broke the bread, ate it and gave thanks to God for His undeserving grace to me.
Then the Lord spoke this into my spirit:
“I already paid the price. Never feel guilty again to ask me for redemption. To NOT ask for redemption is to waste grace, to waste what I already paid for. Like the ingredients in the muffins, you were bought at the high price of my Son. I want to redeem your life from the pit. I long to forgive. Just ask me! No more self-condemnation. There is now, therefore, no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”