TLC and the Impossible

Is anything too hard for the LORD? —Genesis 18:14 NIV

That horse manure sure did the job.

I canned fifteen quarts of fresh tomatoes. And there was still more on the porch and plants.

We hadn’t planned on having so many tomatoes—and I sure hadn’t planned on canning ever again. At this stage of the game, I wasn’t looking for more work. All we wanted was a small garden so we could enjoy a few fresh fruits and vegetables. 

So, in the spring we bought a half dozen tomato plants and a couple of pepper plants, put in a row of green beans, and scattered a few cucumber seeds. And, since our soil is absolutely horrible when it comes to supporting anything we sow, my DH (dear husband) dumped on a healthy heaping of horse manure.

Then our son gave us a dozen tomato plants and a half  dozen pepper plants—leftovers which had languished for at least a week, unwanted and uncared for, after he’d planted his garden. 

DH is not a man to waste anything. He plowed and harrowed another section in the yard, planted the donations, and fenced it in. He had such fun. I didn’t mind because never in my wildest dreams did I imagine those drooping, half-dead, pathetic plants would produce so much. It must have been the manure. Or the weather. Or luck. Or maybe it was the tender loving care DH lavished on them.

People can be like those dying, castoff tomato plants—without a hope until someone says, “I’m going to try to save you,” and then prepares a place where they can grow undisturbed, nourishes them, plucks the weeds, and lovingly cares for them. Sometimes our efforts make a difference. Sometimes they don’t. But I believe we are better for trying. And you never know when the turnaround will come.

I tend to cast people off as hopeless cases at times, too. Their needs are just too great, their problems too overwhelming. The answer is, in my eyes, impossible. 

But I forget. Our God is the God of the impossible. Is anything too hard for Him? He who spoke creation into being, whose mighty power calmed the winds and stilled the storm—and transformed life after life after life? He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He who cares for the insignificant sparrow can take droopy, half-dead, castoff human beings, transplant them, and nurture them until they, too, produce a harvest. Look at Sarah and Abraham. Mary Magdalene. Zacchaeus. Matthew. Paul. 

My own eyes have seen the transformation of a man whom I thought was an impossible case. A castoff with more problems than I thought even prayer could handle. But God showed me different. Impossible? For God—nothing is impossible. 

It just goes to show—never count anyone (or anything) down and out—no matter what it appears like. You never know what a little TLC will do.

 Dear God, help me never to give up on anyone—ever. Amen.

 Read and reflect on Isaiah 55:8–13.

 From God, Me, and a Cup of Tea: 101 devotional reading to savor during your time with God, © 2017, Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

A Little Leaven, A Lotta Heaven

“The kingdom of God is within you.” –Jesus, as quoted in Luke 17:21 NKJV

Friday night at our house is-pizza-and-a-movie night. It began when the youngest left for college, and my husband and I ate out at a local pizzeria. Eventually our date night morphed into dining on frozen pizza at home. After a while frozen pizza lost its appeal, and I rooted around in my recipe box and retrieved my old pizza dough recipe.

Years ago I learned the secret of making good pizza dough. It’s in the kneading. First I dissolve the yeast in warm water. Warm, not hot, because hot will kill the yeast. Then I add the sugar, salt, and oil, mixing it well so the yeast, sugar, and salt dissolve. Then I add about half the flour, mixing it with a wooden spoon until it’s just past the gooey stage.

Then I knead in the rest of the flour by one-half cupfuls—and I don’t pay attention to the recipe! I pay attention to the dough. I’m done adding flour when the dough is just past being sticky, soft like a baby’s behind, and springs back when I lightly indent it with my finger. I rarely use all the flour the recipe calls for.

Now, you’re asking, what does this have to do with the kingdom of heaven? Everything. You see, Jesus spent a lot of time teaching the people about the kingdom of heaven, or the kingdom of God, using analogies of things they understood so they would grasp what He was trying to tell them.

“The kingdom of heaven,” He said once, “is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into a large amount of flour until it worked all through the dough” (Matthew 13:33 GW). The kingdom of heaven is like yeast.

The older versions use the word “leaven.” Leaven, according to my trusty Webster’s, is “any influence spreading through something and working on it to bring a gradual change.” In bread dough, the leaven causes it to rise and gives it a delectable flavor. Ever eat bread that failed to rise? It’s useless, isn’t it? Fit only for the trashcan.

In this world, the leaven is the kingdom of heaven, or the rule of God over all who accept and submit to Him (see John 3:3,5). In each believer, the leaven is the words of the Master, found in Scripture, that gradually spread through our minds and hearts, transforming us, transforming our lives, ever so gradually.

First, though, the leaven must be added carefully then worked through the dough of our lives. Just like bread dough, the secret is in the kneading. Ever knead dough? It takes time and patience—and just the right touch—not too heavy and not too light.

God is the one who kneads His Word through our lives. If you’re dough being kneaded, though, it doesn’t feel too good to be twisted and turned and folded and pushed and pulled. But the Master knows what He’s doing. He’s not following a recipe because we are individual lumps, each needing a different touch, a different amount of flour to be added, and a different amount of kneading time. The Master works us until we’re pliable, soft, resilient—not too sticky or gooey and not too dry or tough. Then He sets us aside for a while for the leaven to do its work.

But we’re still not ready. Like bread dough, we must be punched down, worked again, shaped, and left alone, covered with a soft cloth, so that the leaven can finish its work. It’s a long process.

Child of God, are you being kneaded? Don’t despair. Just remember—a little bit of leaven, worked just right into the dough of your soul, means a whole a lot of heaven.

Dear God, thank You for kneading me in the way I need to be kneaded. Amen.

Read and reflect on Matthew 13:33 and Luke 17:20–21.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea, Vol. 3 © 2019 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission. Photo courtesy of ABSFreePic.com.