Kitchen Nightmares and a New Year's Prayer

Somewhere between Christmas and New Year's, I watched a reality show in which a master chef comes into a struggling restaurant and gives them the riot act. Apparently the owners asked for this even though surely they've seen the profanity-wielding chef humiliate and rant and rave, bringing hapless workers to tears.

Granted, it was a TV show, replete with stylized camera angles and shocking moments repeated over and over; and is probably just one step up from Jerry Springer on the evolutionary scale, but I watched it and am still thinking about it now three weeks later.

These poor owners had asked an expert to swoop in and tell them what they were doing wrong. They'd been in business for a while; they had customers, they thought they were doing okay, just wanted some pointers.

What they got was a full-scale condemnation of just about everything they were doing. When Chef Gordon Ramsay went into the back of the refrigerator and scooped up a wet handful of nastiness for a camera close-up, the owner protested that the kitchen was a lot cleaner than it was before he bought it. The more things Chef Ramsay found wrong, the more defensive the owner became, finally stomping off and declaring he'd rather shut the doors and walk away than put up with that kind of "worse than a dog" treatment.

Yes, yes, I know that it was possibly 98% staged, and my writing about it is not to give creedance to reality shows, but to relate how the premise of the show struck me the next morning as I lay in bed thinking about it.

What if I asked an expert in, say, marriage to come in and see all? To move the boxes out of the way, with his bare hand reach into long-neglected places and bring to light the refuse of years of accumulated grime? In the face of a glaring, tell-all camera, would I insist that my marriage (or work-ethic, parenting, citizenship, discipleship) was just fine, better than it used to be, not nearly so bad as the guy's-next-door?

When Chef Ramsay asked the cook, "So what's the deal with these potatoes in a box?" and she said sheepishly, "I mix in a little instant with the leftover potatoes from yesterday to stretch them", I pitied the girl. She must have thought it seemed like a good idea at the time, and surely would never have done it, much less told him, if she'd seen the dastardly deed through his eyes. His admonition, "We will serve nothing but FRESH food" was so simple, so pure, so basic, but had obviously been grossly forsaken.

I can't forget the Instant Potatoes Lesson. How often do I serve up worn-out leftovers, depending on the loyalty of yesterday's affections, assuming, albeit unconsciously, that even half-hearted tokens will suffice? Am I, like the poor cook, lacking in passion, just putting in my hours?

This year, for the first time in years I didn't make any New Year's resolutions. But I do have a New Year's prayer and I ask you to pray it with me. "Expert in all, Maker and Sustainer of all, please come on in. Tell me what you see. Show me the back of the refrigerator. Tell me how it ought to be."

He Watching Over Israel

When a friend’s ax hit a stubborn branch, volleying the ax back onto his head, leaving him on the ground to be found by his children and subsequently air-lifted to the Med, some of us who gathered to help and pray, couldn’t help but ask, “Why?” Just one swing of an ax, perhaps just an angle, a few degrees, a shifting of weight, an error in judgment, and a brilliant oncologist, fresh out of residency, married, with four children is struck down.

Fortunately, that story ended well and he recovered fully, but I remember finally acknowledging the obvious, “He got hit in the head with the ax because of the laws of nature.” It’s not that life is random or capricious or that God is off-duty. It’s just that cause and effect are realities. And as much as we want God to intervene to prevent accidents and illnesses, we know that often He does not.

But He does intervene. He does heal. He acts. He works. He causes things to happen. He parts seas, confuses enemies, sends angels, warns of imminent dangers. I’m sure we’ll all be astonished when we get to heaven to see how much He did intervene and we didn’t see it, acknowledge it. For every time something awful doesn’t happen, the cynic recalls the hundreds of times it did, and concludes that God is helpless or unconcerned, and I confess that even as a Christian, I can think that way, too.

But not today. Today I’m filled with thanksgiving for what I see as divine intervention, divine protection.

Natalie was driving on I-40, three hours into her trip back to school at UT Chattanooga, our minivan packed to the full, when she decided to stop for a bathroom break and fill up the tank. The price wasn’t good, so she pulled up to the front of the quick mart instead of the gas pump. As she pulled into the space she noticed a burning smell, saw smoke, jumped out of the car, was met with someone yelling, “Your car is on fire!” She then saw the flames coming out of the hood. Within seconds they had a fire extinguisher and were able to put the fire out. The wonderful people at the Pilot Gas Station in Dickson, TN made sure the fire was out completely, took Natalie inside, comforted her, offered coffee.

Those of us who’ve had cars start smoking or catch on fire while driving down a highway know how frightening that is. We’ve seen a car in flames on the side of the road, the poor owner standing there helpless. We know of worse outcomes I’ll only allude to, myself unwilling to let my mind go there.

When an oil cap falls off in a moving car, oil spills out onto the engine. Engines get hot. Oil catches on fire. Fires burn and destroy. It’s cause and effect. It’s as it should be. A world that didn’t follow laws of physics would be much more precarious and dangerous than we imagine this one to be. (I guess it would be impossible to have a world without these laws, but I can’t speak on things scientific though I am currently trying to read, “Intelligent Design”. Trying being the operative word.)

Natalie was protected. She is safe because she got off the interstate and stopped at a safe place with a fire extinguisher close by. A skeptic would say that was cause and effect, too, a lucky coincidence. We don’t see it that way. We are so thankful that He directed her to stop when she did, just in time, protecting her from all that could have happened had she not stopped at that time, had no one been there to help her, had the price of gas been cheaper, the fire extinguisher empty.

We praise Him for protecting her, for guiding her to safety, for making a bad situation turn out so well. I just wanted you to share in our joy, to join me in worshiping the God who is there, who condescends to involve Himself in our affairs, who "watching over Israel, slumbers not, nor sleeps.” Psalms 121:4.

Why Have a Party?

Several times along the way I questioned it, wished we weren’t doing it, wondered what in the world was motivating us in the first place. No, I’m not talking about getting married, or buying a house, or having kids. It was just a New Year’s Eve party.

But any party takes time, money, and effort, so there are qualms. The cynic in me says, “That’s much ado about nothing. It’s just another day.” The frugal side says, “You could get the car fixed with that money.” My insecurity wonders, “Will they want to come?" The ascetic whispers that it’s frivolous. The melancholy says, “How can you celebrate in the worst recession in history?”

(I thought all these things and more, which I won’t relate lest you think I’m the most hopelessly introspective and analytical person you’ve ever met.)

The day of the party, around noon, I got a call from the place we were renting saying there was a big problem. Plumbing? A fire? Vandalism? No, they had double-booked the place. For about three hours it was up in the air, but in the end our party was trumped by the square dancers who refused to do-si-do somewhere else.

I’m in tears when I call Pat, so of course he becomes optimism incarnate, “I’ll borrow some tents from the church, get some heaters; we’ll have it at our house and in the yard. It’ll be great.” It was going down to 23 degrees that night.

Fortunately, another place was found for us, and after a flurry of phone calls and Facebook messages, a small window of time in which to decorate, and a scramble to find speakers for our messed-up stereo system, we ended up having our party in a much nicer place than we’d originally paid for.

The next day, exhausted, reflecting, I wonder ...

Why do people have parties? Why do we celebrate? What is in us that wants to mark the end of something, a new beginning? Why do we go to great lengths to make special foods, polish the silver, string lights, starch shirts, squeeze into high heels, all for just a few hours of fun?

Because celebration is in the heart of God, that’s why. As creatures made in His image, we want and need to celebrate, to rejoice, make merry. In every culture, there is this desire to single out one day, one person, one event, to focus energy and resources to culminate in a gathering that is festive, separate from the hum-drum of everyday life.

That celebration is often expressed with more vigor outside the faith community than inside is a shameful irony. Of all people, we have the most to celebrate, but we’re often like the pious people in Babette’s Feast, who lived joyless, grim lives in the name of religion, and didn't see that all good things are gifts from a loving, joyous God.

Before the party, a minister friend asked what kind of gathering it would be, saying that while his wife liked a “spiritual” New Year’s Eve, he preferred a fun one, a party. For me, the two go together. Like Babette, like the father for his prodigal son, like God Himself who promises a feast beyond compare, I enjoyed providing a party for those I love.

Eric Liddell, the Olympic runner become missionary whose story is beautifully told in the movie, Chariots of Fire, said of his running, “I feel His pleasure.” When I saw that movie back in the 80’s, I longed to have something like that in my life, something so tangibly human that was also so profoundly spiritual. Alas, I never felt it running, but I do feel it when I’m preparing for guests, when I’m anticipating a celebration, making ready for a party.