Day 1
Some of my treasures lie "under..."
And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope (Romans 5:2-4).
I love cooking in my old cast iron pans—cornbread, cakes, frittatas, cobblers, pies. I get such a feeling of satisfaction when everything slides out clean and perfect—no sticking, no breaking. So much for modern cookware—cast iron pots have been around for centuries, and they outperform many products made of supposedly “advanced” materials. Plus they are safer, according to experts!
I think back to when I got my first cast iron pans several years ago. A family member who frequented flea markets had promised to keep a lookout for me, and sure enough, arrived one day with a set of cast iron pans in various sizes.
I looked at them in dismay. They looked like they had been plucked from a long-forgotten scrapheap. Stubborn dirt clung to them, and ugly, brown rust covered every square inch (or centimeter for my metric system readers). “I can’t use these,” I thought, and resolved to send them back to the garbage heap.
My family member told me that cast iron could be restored. “Not these,” I thought, “not in this condition!” But disbelievingly, reluctantly, I set out to research. And discovered there was perhaps reason to try. So over the next few weeks, I tackled those pans with unrelenting determination.
I explored remedy after remedy, process after process—some promising, some frustrating, some futile. As I cleaned and scrubbed, I remembered, and longed for the wads of “coconut fibre” coated with gritty ash used to scour the big iron pots suspended over kitchen hearths in my early village years. But a brush would have to suffice.
In between all the scrubbing and the scouring was the “seasoning”—rubbing the pans lightly with oil and placing in a hot oven to develop a base coating. It seemed unending—scrub, season, repeat. But the day finally came when the last pockets of rust yielded to the stiff brush and the globs of coarse Kosher salt, and the pans emerged clean and rust-free, a beautiful black coating on the inside, and the maker’s mark clearly visible on the outside.
My pans are now one of my simple treasures. Cooking is a big part of my family heritage and history, and my almost-discarded collection has served me well over the years. I’m so glad I didn’t give in to the urge to throw them away! With a simple routine of care and occasional seasoning, they continue to “deliver the goodies!”
As I think of the “near miss” with my pans, I can’t help thinking about all the temptations in life to discard what we don’t recognize as valuable—people, difficult experiences, adverse circumstances. I think of the many times I want to rush through, or skip altogether, a season of pain, or of hardship, or of "testing.”
Yet, all the while, my loving God desires to cleanse, purify, and refine me. He desires to build within me deep layers of perseverance, of character, and of hope (Romans 5:3-5). He desires to make me mature and complete, not lacking anything (James 1:4).
And while I chafe under a process that often seems to swing from promise, to frustration, to futility, He is working all things together for my good (Romans 8:28). While I chafe under the rough “coconut fibres” and stiff brushes of pressure, and the gritty ash of polish, He desires to bring me “beauty for ashes,” and the “oil of joy” to “season” my sadness.
I know that Jesus desires to present me, as part of His radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless (Ephesians 5:27). This doesn’t mean I will ever be perfect in this life, but under His care and ministrations, I will progress till the spots are gone, till my inner person glows with the beauty of His gleaming light, and till the mark of my Maker is clearly visible on the testimony of my life.
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