I bet you have some of those recipes yourself—Hawaiian pizza, nacho cheese stuffed shells, Mexican lasagna, spinach and feta calzones.  It may not be an upscale restaurant’s version of fusion cooking, but for most of us it’s as close as it gets.  Italian cuisine mixed with Mexican, Greek mixed with Asian, French with Thai, anything to put a little variety in the weeknight meals.  And for many of us, they become some of the family’s favorite dishes.  When the flavors don’t clash but meld together beautifully, the whole dish is improved.

 Isn’t that the way the church is supposed to work?  God never meant us to gather in monochromatic assemblies.  He never meant for one ethnic or economic group to position itself higher in the pecking order as the more learned, the more spiritual, the more zealous.  The prophets prophesied a multi-cultural kingdom.  It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the LORD shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be lifted up above the hills; and all the nations shall flow to it, and many peoples shall come, and say: “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways... Isa 2:2-3. 

 Even as far back as Abraham God promised, “In thy seed shall all nations of the earth be blessed,” Gen 22:17.  Not one nation, not two, but all.  When you read the book of Genesis and watch God funnel his choice down to one people, then in the New Testament see that funnel turned upside down to include salvation for all in the fulfillment of that promise, you cannot possibly exclude anyone and still show a true appreciation for God’s plan. 

 And you cannot make yourself better than any other without annulling grace.  For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love, Gal 5:6.

  “God is no respecter of persons,” Peter said to Cornelius, and even he had to learn that lesson and teach it to others.  And the struggle went on for years.  Have we not in two millennia finally figured this out?  Even Jesus began the process when he chose Simon the Zealot and Matthew the publican.  If ever two people, even of the same race, could be polar opposites in ideology, it was these two, but they overcame their biases and went on to work peaceably and respectfully together to conquer the world for their Lord—the whole world, not just one race.

 Who are you teaching?  Who are you welcoming into your assemblies?  Who puts their feet under your table and holds your hands during the prayer of thanksgiving for the meal?

 A long time ago, my little boys wanted some friends to stay overnight and go to school with them in the morning.  “We’ll tell the teachers they are our cousins.” 

We adults looked at one another and smiled.  These playmates were black and my boys were about as fair-skinned as they come.  Their father shook his head and said, “I don’t think that will work.”

In all innocence and sincerity they asked, “Why not?”

Finally Keith looked at the father and said, “We’re brothers, aren’t we?  So I guess that makes them cousins after all.”

Would that we could all be as color-blind as an innocent child, as color blind as the Lord who died for all.

For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you are Christ's, then you are Abraham's offspring, heirs according to promise,Gal 3:27-29.

Dene Ward

I was utterly confused when the older lady asked me about the bread recipe I had mentioned.

 “Is it short?” she wanted to know.

 The reply on the tip of my tongue was that it was about an inch high, but intuition told me that was not what she meant.  Someone else came to my rescue then and I gradually realized over the first few years of married life that “short” in cooking had nothing to do with height. 

 Shortening does exactly what its name implies.  It shortens the strands of gluten in a bread dough.  In a quick bread, which doesn’t take hours to rest and rise, that is important.  If it were not “shortened” it would be too tough to chew.  So biscuits, cornbread and other un-yeasted breads are far shorter than yeasted ones.

 Which shortening you choose makes a world of difference too.  Butter, oils, meat fats, and plain old shortening are the most commonly used, and the texture and flavor you want determines which one.  If you want a sandier texture, use oil; if you want a flakier texture, use shortening.  If the flavor makes a difference, choose olive oil for Mediterranean breads and bacon fat for cornbread—if you are from the south, that is. 

 Some recipes call for a mix of two or more shortenings to produce the best of each.  You want a great cookie?  Click on my recipes on the left sidebar and then click on Almond Crunch Cookies, which use both oil and butter—great flavor plus sandy texture. 

I prefer to keep my pie crusts plain so they won’t detract from the filling.  To that end I use shortening only.  It also makes a flakier crust.  Others mix butter and shortening, but I can tell you from experience that an all butter pie crust is difficult to work with and tends to be heavy, at least to me.

 Then there is cornbread.  I can tell from a recipe whether the cook is from up north or down south.  Northerners use less cornmeal, a good bit of sugar, and either oil or melted butter as their shortening—except maybe some Midwesterners who live where pork is king.  I nearly flipped when a television chef based in New York used 1 cup of cornmeal to three cups of flour.  To a southerner, it’s called cornbread because it has both the taste and texture of dried corn, plus that wonderful yumminess of bacon in the background.

 I have been trying to figure out what we Christians use as our shortening, and I think it has to be love.  Love can change both the texture and flavor of what you do.  Notice Mark 10:21: And Jesus looking upon him loved him, and said unto him, One thing you lack…  Love made Jesus tell this young man, the one who had done well at keeping the law all his life, exactly what he lacked.  Try doing that without love and see how far it gets you.

 Sometimes love is tasty and easy to get down.  Sticking your finger in cake batter is a whole lot nicer than doing the same with pie crust.  One is far sweeter and has much more flavor than the other.  So pats on the back, compliments and pep rally encouragement are easy to stomach.  It doesn’t take any maturity to handle it well.

Sometimes love gets a little salty.  Let your speech be always with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one.  Col 4:6.  Salt can sting an open wound, and sometimes that is exactly what we need—a sharp word to wake us up.  That one is harder to handle, but what are we?  Toddlers who still think that discipline means Mama and Daddy are mean, or adults who have learned the benefits of correction?

 Keith grew up in a family where compliments were rare, almost non-existent.  Until the day they died I never once heard his parents praise one of his sermons or Bible lessons.  They viewed criticism as a way of helping, and if they didn’t love him why would they try to help at all?  Most of the people up in those hills were exactly the same way.  They appreciated plain speech, people saying what they mean and meaning what they say.  They viewed pro forma compliments as hypocritical, and indeed, any teacher knows when the man shaking his hand and saying, “Good lesson,” means it and when he doesn’t.

 And we should recognize the value of love in all its forms.  When you know that a rebuke comes from a heart of love it is much easier to take, even a salty one—love shortens those tough strands of “gluten” and makes them tenderer and easier to chew on.  Don’t ever dismiss a word of exhortation because it doesn’t taste good to you.  God expects you to recognize the shortening and use the admonition to improve yourself whether you like its flavor or not. 

A friend of mine once tried to sift some biscuit mix to “get out all those lumps,” not realizing they were lumps of shortening.  What she produced were the toughest biscuits anyone ever tried to eat.  If you try to get rid of the rebuke, even if it is shortened with love, God won’t be happy with your end product either.  In fact, the comment you get from Him when you try to excuse yourself from not listening because you don't like what is said is likely to be something like, “That’s tough!”

Let a righteous man strike me—it is a kindness; let him rebuke me—it is oil for my head; let my head not refuse it...​Better is open rebuke than hidden love. Faithful are the wounds of a friend; profuse are the kisses of an enemy… Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent…Psa 141:5; Prov 27:5,6; Rev 3:19. 

Dene Ward

On January 14, 1973, Public Television aired the final episode of The French Chef, hosted by Julia Child.  It was the first cooking show of its kind on television and had aired for ten years.  Julia went on to write several books and host other shows, the last of which, Julia and Jacques, with Jacques Pepin, spawned a cookbook I have on my shelf.  If you want great instructions and well-prepared food, it's the one to have.  It is especially interesting to see the comparison between the two chefs' ways of doing the same dish.

 Julia was quite a personality.  She was born on August 15, 1912, to a well-off family, attending private schools throughout her growing up years, but expelled from one for insubordination.  Having watched her cook and listened to her give her opinions in sometimes humorous ways, I can well imagine that happening!  During World War II she was an agent for the OSS, the precursor to the CIA.  She was six foot two and athletic.  Her role was the communication of top secret documents between government officials and intelligence officers.

 As an agent, she met her husband and fellow-agent Paul Child in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), and they were married in September of 1946.  Paul was assigned to Paris, where Julia decided to attend Le Cordon Bleu, the famous cooking school.  Afterward, she and two fellow-students, Simone Beck, and Louisette Bertholie, wrote Mastering the Art of French Cooking, from which Julia's television show came.  Suddenly, American women were cooking French food and reciting French phrases.

 One of those phrases has become common on every cooking show you will watch:  mise en place.  It is something that every cook does, whether they know the phrase or not, or even how to pronounce it.  It means "set in place," and refers to the practice of gathering every ingredient needed for a recipe in one place so you don't have to run back and forth to the pantry or the fridge throughout the cooking process.  We all do it.  In fact, I have taken it to the next level—I read through the recipe and if several things are added at the same time, I put them all in the same small bowl.  It is so much quicker and easier to throw in the required measure of cumin, coriander, fennel, salt and pepper from one custard cup than having to stand there measuring it out as you cook.  Sometimes those few seconds can make a difference in how things turn out.  And if, like mine, your pantry is across the room from the stand mixer or the range, you can wear yourself out going back and forth.

 All of this came to me one Sunday as my husband was preaching on the phrase "the Lord is at hand" from Phil 4:5.  Some say this is evidence that Paul was expecting Christ's return any day.  He was "at hand."  But no, what it means is that he is always with you.  You could reach out your hand and he would be there.  Just like all my ingredients, he is handy when I need him.  When life is difficult, he is there to comfort: when I am tempted, he is there to strengthen; when I am lonely, he is there to show me I am loved.  But it is also a reminder than wherever I go, he sees what I am doing.  When I am driving, he is in the seat next to me; when I am talking to my neighbor across the fence, he is standing there too; when I must face a situation that might develop into bad feelings, he is there reminding me to be gentle for the sake of a soul that needs saving.

And of course, the passage itself tells us how knowing he is so nearby should affect us.  We should rejoice—if one cannot rejoice in such knowledge, something is wrong!  We should not fret but pray—just turn right around and talk to this ever-present Lord!  Wouldn't it feel awkward if you were walking with someone all day long and never said a word to him?  We should be grateful, and such knowledge should grant us peace. 

 Mise en place might be a catchphrase for a chef, but it should mean everything to a Christian—a disciple of Christ.  The next time you gather all of your ingredients together for your favorite dish, remember who else is "at hand," sitting in place right next to you.

Rejoice in the Lord always: again I will say, Rejoice.  Let your forbearance be known unto all men. The Lord is at hand.  In nothing be anxious; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.  And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, shall guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus, Phil 4:4-7.

Dene Ward

When my mother raised us, she always said, “I’m not running a restaurant.  You get what I serve,” and what she served was always fine with me.  I don’t recall a single bad meal.  Even recently I heard a television cook reminisce about coming to dinner as a child and eating what was put in front of her, so my family wasn’t weird, and neither was I when I followed suit as an adult.  It was as much about finances as anything else, but it certainly helped teach a few things, like, you don’t always get what you want in life and be grateful for whatever there is.

            But once in awhile I tried to please everyone as much as possible.  If the main dish was one boy’s favorite, then dessert was the other boy’s favorite.  It was the best of both worlds for them—a favorite entrée and a favorite dessert.

            Recently I have come up with a dessert that has to be the best of both worlds.  I haven’t decided whether to call it a cheesecake brownie or a brownie cheesecake.  It has two layers: a brownie bottom, and a cheesecake top.

            So, if you like chocolate and cheesecake, you can have both in one piece.  If you want chewy and smooth and creamy this is the dessert for you.  If you like chocolate and vanilla, this is even better than Neapolitan ice cream.  It’s even part convenience food and part “from scratch.”  The brownie layer is a mix and the cheesecake layer is all homemade.  A friend told me it’s perfect for her and her husband.  He has celiac disease, so he eats the gluten-free cheesecake layer and she eats the brownie layer.  Like I said, the best of both worlds.

            Now try to convince your neighbors that as a Christian you have the best of both worlds.  All they can see is what you can’t do and how much you sacrifice in time, energy, and types of entertainment.  Especially if all you do is complain about what you can’t do, ruing the messed up weekends, the missed ball games and picnics, what else do you expect?  You are supposed to make your life look like something they will want, not something they will hate.

            So perhaps we should start by convincing ourselves.  We don’t have to go to church; we get to assemble with our spiritual family.  We don’t have to dress differently; we get to look like decent, classy people instead of prostitutes.  We don’t have to give up drinking and smoking and drugs; we get to keep our dignity, breathe clearly, and preserve as many brain cells as possible.  We don’t have to give up revenge and gossip; we get to get along with people and stay out of trouble.  We don’t have to watch our language; we get to look like intelligent people with a real vocabulary.  We don’t have to give up status and money and things; we find our joy wherever we are in any situation—we have learned in whatever circumstances we are “to be content,” Phil 4:12, and contentment equals happiness.

            God does not expect us to be miserable in order to earn Heaven.  Being a Christian is not a horrible life.  It is a life of joy, a life of fulfillment, a life of health, a life of spiritual wealth.  I have more family than any of my neighbors.  One of them was amazed at the food brought during my surgeries, at the women who cleaned my house and the teenagers who raked the yard after Keith had a serious illness.  If I ever need help, I don’t have just one person to call, I have a whole list. 

            My marriage is intact and happy.  My children are happy, productive citizens, and servants of the Lord to boot.  We don’t have money problems because we don’t love things and don’t need luxury to be satisfied.  We don’t have legal problems because we are honest and law abiding.  We don’t lose our faith over our illnesses and disabilities because we have something far better in store for us.

            Which leads us to the next world.  If this life has been good—not perfect, for how could it be in a cursed world—the next one will be nothing short of amazing, an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fades not away, reserved in heaven for you,1 Pet 1:4.

            God promises us a “best of both worlds” life, far better than a “best of both worlds” dessert.  But He doesn’t make you eat it.  He gives you a choice.  You can have this world and the next if you do it His way.  Otherwise, this one is all you get.

For bodily exercise is profitable for a little; but godliness is profitable for all things, having promise of the life which now is, and of that which is to come, 1 Tim 4:8.

Dene Ward

If you want the mentioned recipe, click on "Dene's Recipes."

It’s one of those recipes you don’t really like to admit that you use, especially if you have a reputation for baking from scratch or cooking multi-course meals for your anniversary dinner, meals like a leek and Swiss chard tart as an appetizer, an entrée of veal shanks with sage over polenta with broccoli rabe, ending with pear croustade in a hazelnut crust.  Somehow this recipe doesn’t fit into that mold.

            But once in awhile life gets hectic, stressed, entirely too busy, and you find yourself needing a dish for a potluck with exactly one hour to cook it and no extra time for much prep.  So then I pull out this three can, two bottle, two bag recipe, dump it all in a pot and go on with my life.  I have learned not to let it bother me when this stuff gets more raves than another recipe I spent six hours on.  I have also learned not to tell anyone what’s in it until they taste it because it is truly a weird concoction, but oh, so good.

            Those Party Meatballs, as the recipe calls them, have been my salvation more than once.  Sometimes we need something easy instead of something elaborate.  If it meets the need and is just as tasty, who cares?  There will be plenty more times for elegant three layer cakes and brined, crusted. herb-infused entrees.

            God understands that, too.  When I was very young I thought you couldn’t pray except at certain times, using certain phrases, making sure it was long and full of heavy, theological words and concepts, usually from the King James Version.  Why I thought that I don’t know.  The Bible is full of examples of people praying in all sorts of situations, all sorts of postures, long prayers, short prayers, prayers of profundity and simple prayers of just a few words.  Maybe that was the problem:  I just hadn’t studied enough myself.  All I had done was listen to what others told me.

            Now I know better.  Now I know that in the middle of a crisis I can send up a quick prayer for control, for calm, for an easy resolution.  I don’t always need an opening salutation, I can just say, “Help me, Lord.”  I don’t have to preface everything with my own unworthiness.  Usually in the middle of a problem, that is already on my mind anyway and God knows it just as well as I do. 

            I don’t have to find a quiet spot alone.  I can talk to God in the middle of a milling crowd if my child has wandered off and I can’t immediately find him.  In fact, I can scream to Him if I want to.  God understands if there isn’t time to hunt up a closet right now.  In fact, He is more than pleased that I think of Him first in trying circumstances.  He is thrilled that my relationship with Him can be so spontaneous.  There will be other times for reverence.

            God makes it easy for you to talk to Him.  People who have set up word and posture requirements, with ideological notions of “propriety,” are the ones who make it difficult to approach God.  He went to a lot of trouble and pain and sacrifice to make Himself available at any time in any circumstance. 

            You may not want Party Meatballs all the time, but when the time is short and the need is urgent, they will do just fine.  We certainly need lengthy times of humility and reverence in our approach to God.  But God also made a simple way for us when we need Him quickly.  Don’t let anyone mess with His recipe.

May all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you! May those who love your salvation say evermore, "God is great!" But I am poor and needy; hasten to me, O God! You are my help and my deliverer; O LORD, do not delay! Psalms 70:4-5.

For the recipe accompanying this post click Dene's Recipes.

Dene Ward

The first time I received a bushel of pears from a neighbor out here in the country I was disappointed.  I was used to the pears in the store, especially juicy Bartletts, and creamy, vanilla-scented Boscs.  As with a great many things here in this odd state, only certain types grow well, and they are nothing like the varieties you see in the seed and plant catalogues or on the Food Network shows.  We always called them Florida Pears, but recently learned they are Sand Pears, and in this sandy state that makes good sense.  They are hard and tasteless.  In fact, Keith and I decided you could stone someone to death with them.  We nearly threw them away. 

            Then an older friend told me what to do with them.  They make the best pear preserves you ever dripped over a biscuit—amber colored, clear chunks of fruit swimming in a sea of thick, caramel flavored syrup.  Then she made a cobbler and I thought I was eating apples instead of pears.  No, you don’t want to eat them out of hand unless they are almost overripe, but you most certainly do want to spoon out those preserves and dig into that cinnamon-scented, crunchy topped cobbler.  They aren’t pretty; they are hard to peel and chop; but don’t give up on them if you are ever lucky enough to get some.

            A lot of us give up on people out there.  We see the open sin in their lives and the culture they come from and decide they could never change.  Have you ever studied the Herods in the New Testament?  If ever there was a soap opera family, one that would even make Jerry Springer blush, it’s them.  They were completely devoid of “natural affection,” sons trying to assassinate fathers, and fathers putting sons and wives to death.  Their sex lives were an open sewer—swapping husbands at a whim; a brother and sister living together as a married couple; leaving marriages without even a Roman divorce and solely for the sake of power and influence.

            Yet Paul approaches Herod Agrippa II, the son of Herod Agrippa I who had James killed and Peter imprisoned, the grandnephew of Antipas who had John the Baptist imprisoned and killed after taking his brother’s wife, great-grandson of Herod the Great who had the babies killed at Jesus’ birth, a man who even then was living with his sister, almost as if he expected to convert him.  Listen to this:

            I consider myself fortunate that it is before you, King Agrippa, I am going to make my defense today against all the accusations of the Jews, especially because you are familiar with all the customs and controversies of the Jews. Therefore I beg you to listen to me patiently, Acts 26:2,3.

            Yes, I am sure there was some tact involved there, but did you know that Agrippa had been appointed advisor in Jewish social and religious customs?  Somehow the Romans knew that he had spent time becoming familiar with his adopted religion—during the time between the Testaments the Herods were forced to become Jews and then later married into the family of John Hyrcanus, a priest.  No, he didn’t live Judaism very well, but then neither did many of the Pharisees nor half the priesthood at that point.  But Agrippa knew Judaism, and Paul was counting on that.

            Paul then spends verses 9 through 23 telling Agrippa of the monumental change he had made in his own life.  Here was a man educated at the feet of the most famous teacher of his times, the rising star of Judaism, destined to the Sanhedrin at the very least, fame and probably fortune as well.  Look at the list of things he “counts as loss” in Philippians 3.  Yet this man gives it all up and becomes one of the hated group he had formerly imprisoned and persecuted to the death, forced to live on the charity of the very group he had hated along with a pittance from making a tent here and there.  Talk about a turnaround.  Do you think he told Agrippa his story just to entertain him?  Maybe he was making this point—yes, you have a lot to change, but if I could do it, so can you.

            In verse 27, he makes his final plea—King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know you believe!  Paul had not given up on changing this man whom many of us would never have even tried to convert.  And it “almost” worked.

            Who have you given up on?  Who has a hard heart, a lifestyle that would be useless to anyone but God?  Who, like these pears, needs the heat of preaching and the sweet of compassion?  Who could change if someone just believed in them enough?

            Sand pears seem tasteless to people who don’t work with them, who don’t spend the time necessary to treat them in the way they require.  Are we too busy to save a soul that is a little harder than most?  Who took the time to cook you into a malleable heart for God?  It’s time to return the favor.

And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules. You shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers, and you shall be my people, and I will be your God. And I will deliver you from all your uncleannesses... Ezek 36:26-29.

Dene Ward