Sammy came running down the hallway crying. He wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t scared. He was upset because he smelled cookies baking during his nap time – and he didn’t get to help make them.
Sometimes I did let Sammy help. His favorite job was to crack the eggs on the edge of the mixing bowl. Picture a three-year-old with this task. Let’s just say the cookie batter usually ended up plenty rich in calcium.
I’m glad I let him help, though, not just for his sake but for mine. As he happily smacked an egg onto the steel rim of the bowl and let the mess of white, yolk, and shells slide down into the batter, I heard God say,
This is you helping me.
Well, that was humbling and freeing at the same time. It’s fun to help Jesus when he works in the lives of people. I like doing it. I like it so much I get to thinking I’m pretty good at it. Maybe so good he really needs my help to get the job done.
I stop being a restful child and start striving at things he didn’t even ask me to do.
I’ve been reading The Rest of God by Mark Buchanan lately, a profound and poetic reminder to stop trying so hard at everything. I’m learning what my friend Luke Jiles says, “When I work, I find that God is resting; when I rest, God is at work.”
I’m thinking maybe God is the better pick when it comes to running the universe, that perhaps I can relax and trust him. He’ll graciously let me participate with him, but he’s the chief baker, not me. He knows the recipe and the right ingredients for a fragrant, wonderful creation. I’m mostly on the stepstool watching him.
Next time you are tempted to think you’re all that, remember … we’re all just cracking eggs for Jesus.