God moves through toil

“Shoot,” I thought as I pulled my a-bit-too-browned test cookie out of the oven. I adjusted the oven 25 degrees cooler and dropped 12 rounds of dough onto the next pan. “That’s why Mom taught me to always do a test,” I thought and shrugged it off. 

I was smiling from ear-to-ear. It’s been a great day. An early-morning fetch session with my right-hand man (Murphy) segued beautifully into a morning at the farmers market with one of my closest friends. To top it off, it was my Saturday to bake at the Ronald McDonald House. The sun was shining: just another blessing. 

I stirred up a second batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, continuing to bake the first between additions of sugar and flour. The volunteer coordinator (we’ll call her “M”) popped in the kitchen as she does from time-to-time. She looked at me, then at the bowl of dough. “Want a bite?” I asked, holding a spoon with some dough in the air. She took the spoon and smiled as she mumbled “that’s good.” I continued baking and mouthed the words to “Holy is the Lord” with my Pandora station. 

A few minutes later and M was back in the kitchen. Thinking she was ready for another taste, I looked up and prepared to reach for a clean spoon. She leaned in, this time not for a bite but to whisper, “That couple just lost their baby.” 

My heart sank. 

I tried to make sense of it, suppressing an immediate reaction. My whole body felt weak. M left the kitchen and I continued stirring, fully aware of the dark cloud hovering over the other side of the room. 

I baked and prayed silently for them, for comfort, peace and protection. “God’s got this,” I thought, trying my best to remain hopeful. I longed to pray with them. “If the Spirit opens a door, I’ll enter it.”

The timer sounded; another twelve minutes had passed. I was pleased to see the beautiful golden-brown edges lift as I checked the corner cookie for doneness. I let them rest to cool. 

A few minutes later I picked up the pan, wearing an oven mitt on my left and holding a spatula in my right. I walked over to a table of four to offer a warm cookie. They readily accepted, taking one — two — three — and more. I walked back to the kitchen to set down the almost-empty pan. My heart tugged me to put two of the remaining cookies on a plate. I did, and carried it over to the couple, taking a seat on the ottoman across from them. I paused and reached out my hands. “M told me you lost your baby and I want you to know my heart aches for you. I’ve been praying for you as I bake.” My eyes welled up. I spoke through tears. The husband, red-eyed and exhausted thanked me and shared that the music coming from the kitchen had been a blessing. “It has really helped us today,” he said. I half smiled, gave a hug through a squeeze of our hands and returned to the kitchen. I continued to bake, praying all the while. 

I’ve continued to pray for them, struggling to understand. Few things challenge my faith; this has. 

............

And here my writing sat — for several weeks, in fact. I rarely have writer’s block, especially when pouring out the testament of my heart. I was paralyzed by questioning, “Why would a Good God allow this to happen?” The question haunted me; it still does. 

Meanwhile, I transitioned from reading Revelation to Ecclesiastes during my morning devotion time. I’d read Ecclesiastes before but this time, the message hit home. 

Ecclesiastes 5:18-20 tells us,

This is what I have observed to be good: that it is appropriate for a person to eat, to drink and to find satisfaction in their toilsome labor under the sun during the few days of life God has given them—for this is their lot. Moreover, when God gives someone wealth and possessions, and the ability to enjoy them, to accept their lot and be happy in their toil—this is a gift of God. They seldom reflect on the days of their life, because God keeps them occupied with gladness of heart.

Ecclesiastes 8:14-15

There is something else meaningless that occurs on earth: the righteous who get what the wicked deserve, and the wicked who get what the righteous deserve. This too, I say, is meaningless. So I commend the enjoyment of life, because there is nothing better for a person under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany them in their toil all the days of the life God has given them under the sun.

Yes, bad things happen to those who don’t deserve it. Everyone will experience hardships (toil) unique to his or her journey. And yet, as believers we trust in something Greater — Someone Greater — and the heavenly home that awaits when we leave this trouble-laden world. 

We enjoy this life — not because it’s perfect but rather, because that is the gift of God: to experience JOY in the absence of good. 

You will struggle. I will struggle. And yes, even your dog will struggle. This world is not our home. It’s in Jesus we have JOY in the midst of it all. God doesn’t ask us to understand it; we just have to accept this life and trust in Him. 

Someday, things will be better — perfect, in fact. Until then, we eagerly anticipate our eternal Homecoming. 

Because God moves through toil.