The Nectar of Heaven

Most of what we know of heaven ultimately gives way to pure mystery. In my humanity, I ponder what it will be like. I wonder what that first glimpse will reveal. I crave the reassurance of the familiar, believing I will readily recognize the ones I have loved. And eternity seems so, well, LONG, and I am infinitely curious to know exactly how we will while away the hours. The Bible says we will be praising God and worshiping perfectly, but do you know what that means? It sounds like a beautiful culmination of our relationship with our Creator and I am honing those worship skills every chance I get, but will that take up all our time? Will we have jobs or assignments there? "Toil" is supposedly part of our earthly existence, so the idea of work as we know it seems highly unlikely. And even pondering the concept of time in heaven shows how earthbound I am. One of the things that will make heaven heaven is that there will be no more watches or time clocks or waiting in line or making appointments. (Freed from the bonds of procrastination? No more being five minutes late? Yahoo!!) I am convinced there will be singing in heaven since that is intricately woven into the fabric of worship, so I have beseeched God to give me a beautiful resurrection voice. Those who sit near me in church will find that most gratifying if we are seated close together in the heavenly choir! Singing with gusto has never been an issue for me--just singing on key!

And what of food? That is something we really all want to know, isn't it? Will we eat in heaven? The pious might say we will want for nothing in heaven and will no longer be slaves to our mortal bodies, so why would we need food? But, truly, to the person who loves to eat, the desire for food has so little to do with what we need and everything to do with what our taste buds desire. Some of my friends (who are women) allow that they cannot imagine an afterlife without chocolate. But given a choice between a morsel of silky, sumptuous dark chocolate and a bite of a perfectly ripe summer peach, I'd choose the peach any day. And just one bite would never do.

Peach season is fully upon us here in coastal Alabama and is a reminder of God's immense love for me in the here and now. The Creator who would allow me this brief interlude of true gastronomic joy must surely care about what makes me happy. When at its best, a single bite of peach yields itself to a subtle symbiosis of sweet and tart, and the careful observer might just detect a little trail of peach juice making its way toward my chin. Ah, the beauty of the summer peach. I somehow feel it an act of reverence this time of year when I give careful consideration to the peach and all the accompanying culinary opportunities such consideration affords.

Our travel schedule during the month of June kept me away from both kitchen and farmers' market. Although I wouldn't have traded a moment of time spent with family, my tiny Fairhope kitchen beckoned jealously upon my return, asking me to focus my attention entirely on what we can accomplish together with the summer's bounty now entirely at our disposal. Trips to Windmill Market here in Fairhope and Allegri Farm Market in Daphne have been "fruitful" to say the least. (Please pardon the very bad--yes groan aloud--pun.) The trick is to buy a basket or so of peaches at varying degrees of ripeness so as to maximize their availability over the ensuing days. And then when your best efforts fail and they all seem to be ripe and ready and begging to be used at once, time to make cobbler!

I was raised on the classic style of peach cobbler where the peaches are sliced, mixed with sugar and dumped raw into a prepared batter awaiting them in a buttered baking dish. I wondered if there was a better way. After some studious searching, I found a style of cobbler that called for the peaches to be cooked stove-top ahead of time in a little water and sugar. This preparation allowed the flavors to meld a little more fully. Another thing I found quite by accident is that multiple sifting of the flour makes the texture of the batter a bit more complex. I stumbled upon this when I decided to forego buying self-rising flour and instead add my own leavening to the all-purpose flour already in my pantry. Also, I was not seeking to feed the masses peach cobbler. Most of the recipes I found were big enough to take to the church pot-luck when all I wanted was to feed two to four people for one meal. Let's face it, cobbler needs to be eaten warm, right out of the oven. Day old and microwaved is NOT cobbler at its best. So here is a recipe for four that takes very little time and turns a weeknight dinner into a celebration of summer at its best. Add a bit of almond flavored whipped cream for something really special.

Peach Cobbler

2 1/2 cups peeled, sliced peaches

1 cup sugar, divided

1/4 cup water

1/2 stick butter (4 tablespoons)

3/4 cup flour

1-1/4 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

dash of cinnamon and sugar for dusting

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Combine the peaches with 1/2 cup sugar and the water. Bring to a boil in a saucepan and reduce to a simmer for about 8-10 minutes.

3. Sift together flour, salt and baking powder. Then sift 2-3 times more for good measure.

4. Combine flour mixture with 1/2 cup sugar and 3/4 cup milk and whisk together until somewhat bubbly.

5. Put butter in an 8X8 baking dish and allow to melt in the heating oven. Watch carefully so the butter doesn't scorch.

6. Pour batter into the melted butter.

7. Use a slotted spoon to distribute the peaches evenly across the batter, and then pour the syrup carefully on top of the peaches. Sprinkle a bit of cinnamon over the peaches.

8. Allow to bake for about 20 minutes until batter has begun to cover the peaches. It will look slightly foamy as it bakes. At this point, sprinkle about a tablespoon of sugar across the top of the batter.

9. Allow to bake for another 15- 20 minutes (cobbler requires a total baking time of 35-45 minutes) until slightly browned. Bubbly peaches will peak through the batter in some places when done.

10. Allow to cool some before eating, but try to time this so you can enjoy it warm. Top with a bit of freshly whipped heavy cream with a bit of sugar added along with a drop or two of almond flavoring. Take this cobbler to yet another level with a sprinkle of toasted sliced almonds.

And, if the masses are truly begging for peach cobbler, double this recipe in a 9 x 13 pan and the masses will not complain!

The Rites of Summer

Summer is definitely here! A number of clues have led me to this conclusion. One, the mosquitos seek to devour me whenever I walk out into the back yard, even if just long enough to feed our sweet old dog, Bear. Two, it is so hot the air conditioner in our little rented house never takes a break and my mascara starts to run when I go out to the street to fetch the mail. Three, the kids on my street have that relaxed look that means no homework! And the clue that clinches it all is that our church is having Vacation Bible School. Oh, I love VBS! I can't remember ever being TOO young for VBS, and I'm pretty sure I participated as a youth all the way through high school.

I have many memories associated with this annual church ritual. I remember gathering on the church steps every morning to process in for our opening chapel time. In the little country church where I grew up, the processional was one of my favorite parts. We would all gather on the front steps with our individual classes and teacher. Some lucky kids would be chosen to lead the processional, one carrying the American flag, one carrying the Christian flag, and at the very front of everything would be the person who would carry the large Bible that usually resided on the pulpit. A processional hymn had been chosen with a catchy cadence, something like "Onward Christian Soldiers." At the appointed time, we would all sing together and march into the sanctuary, standing proudly and importantly together as we pledged allegiance to the Bible and the two flags.

Of course there were Bible stories to be learned, verses to be memorized, crafts to be made and songs to be learned. There were snacks, too, every day! Snack time didn't get too crazy, but butter cookies and Koolaid made regular appearances, with celebratory hot dogs served on our final day. All these memories are comforting and warm and if I think about them for very long, I feel as if I'm right back there in the midst of it all. But probably the most important thing that ever happened at Vacation Bible School occurred the summer of 1970 between fourth and fifth grades. It was then that I committed my life to Jesus Christ.

I had already been experiencing an emotional tug in worship services that I couldn't explain. At the end of the service when our pastor would emphasize the importance of making a personal commitment to Christ, my heart would start thumping wildly. I knew he was talking to me! But it was so scary to think about acknowledging that prompting publicly in the worship service. I didn't know what to do, so I just waited. And then one morning during Bible school, our pastor came into our class to talk to us. He explained in very simple terms the meaning of grace. I remember he had one young man come up to the front and offered him a dollar bill. The pastor emphasized how the young man had to make a choice to TAKE what was being offered to him. And what a pity it would be if the dollar bill was just refused! My heart started that crazy, thumping thing again, and I knew, AGAIN, that someone was talking to me. But it seemed distinctly to me that it was not just the pastor's words making my heart beat so wildly, but someone outside, other, higher, greater. So when the pastor prayed and asked us to acknowledge whether or not Christ was speaking to us, my hand shot up of its own volition. That moment was important! I mark that day as the beginning of ME taking responsibility for MY choices concerning faith. Of course, as I grew older and went through teenage angst and young adult confusion, I made MANY poor choices along the way that didn't give credence to my desire to be a Christian, but I have come back to that foundational decision time and time again as I have grown and matured. Personal faith is process-oriented, and I suppose it only comes to its full fruition at death. I'm not sure we can always label the very beginning of the journey either, but that day in VBS provides a pivotal marker for me along the path.

So, it is VBS time again. Children will be drawn to church who may never be there on any other occasion. They will hear strange and new stories about people long ago who made amazing discoveries about God and Jesus, ordinary people who lived extraordinary lives as they made the leap of faith to follow God's leading and Christ's example. Some may experience a strange fluttering in their hearts that can't be explained in human terms. God will be moving! I pray for the teachers who give their time, for the church leaders who orchestrate all the pieces into a cohesive whole, and for the little ears and open hearts waiting to hear and receive. May seeds be planted this week that will provide a rudder of faith for young boys and girls as they walk the pathway toward adulthood.

My own humble offering for VBS this week was to make pimento cheese sandwiches for the last day's luncheon. I guess hot dogs aren't so much the thing any more. Nothing is easier to make or better to eat than homemade pimento cheese. Here is a recipe you might use. Please feel free to improvise as your own personal taste guides you.

Perfect Pimento Cheese

8 oz. sharp cheddar cheese

8 oz. monterey jack cheese

3/4 cup mayonnaise

1/4 cup chopped pimento, drained

salt and pepper to taste

For this recipe, avoid the pre-shredded cheese. Buy the block and grate your own. The bagged grated cheese has fillers to keep it from sticking together. We want this cheese to be creamy, and it won't get there in the same way unless you grate your own. That said, grate the cheese by hand or in a food processor. If you use a hand-held grater, rejoice at the firm biceps you are building as you create this not-so-healthy cheese spread! When done, put the cheeses in a large bowl, add the mayonnaise (good quality, Duke's or Hellmann's, don't scrimp here--pimento cheese is not supposed to be a health food) and pimento, salt and pepper. Mix until the mayonnaise is well incorporated and the mixture is somewhat creamy. There are a few things you can add at the same time you add the pimento if you so desire. A dash of worcestershire will make it a little smoky. Some people like a dash of garlic powder, but be careful as a little goes a long way, and what tastes like a little when you initially add it grows into something much more menacing after refrigerating for a day. If you like a little heat, toss in a dash of cayenne pepper or a little hot sauce (i.e. Tabasco, Louisiana, Crystal, Texas Pete.) I am a pimento cheese purist, myself and eschew these other additives. Obviously, this requires refrigeration, but you want it to be softened a little if you are going to make sandwiches so it doesn't tear the bread. We were encouraged to make sandwiches and cut them into quarters so little hands could grasp the crust edge and get just the good stuff inside.

The Stuff Lunch is Made of

Growing up, a simple sandwich was probably the first thing I ever assembled in the kitchen. I wish I could say I had a mature and adventuresome palate from a young age, but that just wouldn't be true. At the time, I thought I was being raised by the strictest mother in the community of Oakwood--or the STATE of Georgia--or the whole WORLD, if you had asked me. But God bless her, she was never one of those "clean your plate" mothers. She was more the "try a little of everything" ilk. Luckily, by the time I was about 10 years old, we could safely say I had tried most everything (face scrunched, lips turned down, huge scowl, breath held) and there was much that didn't interest me. As I said, I got lucky in the Mother arena (strict but fair) and if I asked to make a sandwich instead of eating what was offered for dinner, she was generally amenable. Needless to say, summer lunches were all about what would fit between two pieces of bread. These days, some *&%$# years later, I'd still rather have a sandwich than just about anything else.

Some days, there's just nothing I'd rather have than a banana sandwich, one of my earliest comfort meals. And I am very particular about the ingredients. Not just any banana will do! PLEASE don't ask me to eat one of those bananas with brown spots. The banana that sings my name is just starting to lose its tinge of green. It should be firm to the touch with no soft spots. And then there is the mayonnaise. For many years I have been one of those "lite" mayo folks. But a few months ago, I tossed in the towel. I just couldn't do it anymore. No more of that slick artificial feel on my tongue where there should be the rich emulsion of the REAL thing. And I must say, I prefer Duke's. I've been a Hellmann's girl and Blue Plate made regular appearances when I was growing up, but my "mature," adult palate thinks Duke's is richly superior to other options. I'd rather eat less of a good mayonnaise than more of a bad one. That said, don't be stingy with it when you slather it on the bread. We want measurably more than a film. It should do more than skim the surface!

Then there is the bread. Of course, I grew up with the gummy white stuff. Was there anything else? I do believe there was something called Roman Meal in the stores in the late 60s and early 70s, but it rarely made its way into my house. And there is certainly something beguiling about a sandwich made on white bread, particularly a banana sandwich. The bread absorbs the mayo and hugs the bananas close in a package that is immensely edible. Yet, even as I have gravitated back to real mayonnaise, I just can't embrace white bread in the same way I did when I was young. These days, I love the nutty taste of the fiber rich options available to us. I've brought a number of loaves home and many are acceptable, but I've settled into a cozy relationship with Pepperidge Farms 100% whole wheat with 4 whopping grams of fiber in a single slice. The fiber is pleasant but not imposing, present but not persistent, dense without overwhelming.

One more note about the banana sandwich--one would think assembling such a gourmet treat would be a simple task, but certain things must be given due attention. The slicing of the banana is the coup de grace that makes or breaks the sandwich. Do not even think about slicing the banana lengthwise. I've seen others use that technique, and it is not the same sandwich. The banana needs to be sliced crosswise into uniform disks and layered on the bread (mayo on both slices, please) with a slight overlap. I find it takes about 3/4 of a medium banana to make a single sandwich.

I wish all of life could be as easy as lunch! But life is a little better WITH a good lunch, and this one can't be beat. Some good salty potato chips round out the sweetness of the banana and offer a textural counterpoint to the blissful sandwich you are enjoying.

Matthew 4:4 Jesus answered, "It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'"

If I Could Tell You One Thing About Jesus

Delivered 3.31.10, Holy Week, Fairhope United Methodist Church.

If I could tell you only one story about Jesus as you reflect on the crucifixion, I would probably tell you about the night Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. The other gospel writers all describe a meal around a common table and the conversation and events surrounding that event. John chooses to tell us about something else that happened as the meal was being served that night. It is helpful to know that it was customary for a servant to wash the feet of the guests gathered for a meal. Dirty, dusty feet. Tired feet. Feet that often walked many miles to reach their destination. But on this night, no servant was there to provide for that task, and none of those gathered had volunteered.

In order to tell you this story, I have to start at the beginning…at the very beginning, at creation, way back in Genesis. To understand this story, you have to know that when God created humankind, we were absolutely whole and perfect. I use the pronoun “we” here purposefully, to emphasize that in God’s creation of Adam and Eve, his intention and design for each of us was fully present. The promise for who we would be, who we ARE, was contained within the first man and woman. So God created us as whole and complete beings, but to make us authentically human, he gave us free will and set parameters on our choices. We could have everything but ONE thing. We could be perfectly satisfied with all God had created. We didn’t NEED that one thing God said was off limits. There wasn’t even anyone else to compete with who had that one thing except some slimy serpent. But when Eve took the fruit of the tree and shared it with Adam, her willing accomplice, humanity became broken. WE became broken and WE ARE BROKEN.

When sin entered the world, our wholeness was shattered. And ever since the events we read about in the third chapter of Genesis “came to pass,” human beings have been trying to fix whatever it is that is broken deep in our souls and spirits. One of the ways we see that brokenness reveal itself in our lives is in the sense of competition that emerges toward other people. In its earliest manifestation, in childhood, it is heard in the words “no” and “mine.” That brokenness is somehow inherent in the fact that children have to be taught to share, isn’t it? Early on, we have to start teaching our children that wonderful principle of letting someone else play with their toys. We tell them to “be nice” and “share” their blocks with the other kids. We urge them to “take turns.” None of this comes completely natural to children, because the human condition is one of brokenness.

So, we as adults are still trying to fix that which is broken inside. As adults, it is part of our nature to jockey for position, too. We pursue certain activities and acquire specific habits that will help us “get ahead” in this world. We judge ourselves based on how we compare to other people. This world we live in has become quite a competitive place. I remember my last quarters in college as I began to interview for jobs out in the real world through our career placement office. I was an economics major through the business school at University of Georgia, headed for a career in the business world in the early eighties. We were coached in all sorts of ways to set our sights toward position and power and authority. We were taught to write the perfect one-page resume, to shake hands with a firm handshake, to make direct eye contact and speak decisively and knowledgeably. We were taught when asked the ubiquitous question about strengths and weaknesses to answer the question in the sort of way that made even our weaknesses look like desirable qualities in a job candidate. “I tend to be a bit of a perfectionist.” “I am sometimes too hard on myself.” “I sometimes have a hard time delegating because I want to make sure everything is done perfectly.”

I was entering the business world during a time when women were beginning to make significant headway into higher management positions. But there was one problem for females entering the business world. Men had a uniform, and women did not. It was easy for a man to look the part. But women weren’t quite sure what that meant. A man could put on a suit and tie and white shirt with a button down collar, polished shoes and a briefcase. It was more of a problem for a woman deciding what to wear. Someone gave me a book that became my “other bible” in those days. It was called, “Dress for Success for Women.” What it advocated was a sort of uniform for women: a dark blue or gray blazer, a white shirt, skin colored hose, navy or black pumps with medium high heels and a little bow tied up under the collar with some kind of neutral design. This was to be the icing on the cake for the females in our ranks who were out there interviewing for jobs--a good education, great interview skills and a “uniform” that would put us well on our way to climbing the corporate ladder.

Since you live in the same broken world I live in, you know the metaphors that color our lives, the advocacy to do what we can to get ahead, the compulsion to acquire more and more stuff, the ways in which we measure ourselves against other people and how they look and what they do and what they have. What we find, though, when we bring ourselves before scripture is that none of those things will fix what is broken on the inside. None of those metaphors are found in scripture. Instead, when we take a good hard look at the Word of God what we find is Jesus with a towel and a basin doing the lowliest and most menial of human tasks! That is the kind of model and metaphor we find in scripture, the metaphor of service, of giving, quite often sacrificially. You can search scripture from one end to the other and you will not find anything that urges you toward personal acquisition or power or authority over others. Instead you will find the admonition to sell all you have and give to the poor. You will find parables encouraging you to be a good neighbor to those in need. You will find advice to turn the other cheek, to go the second mile, to find a void where need exists and fill it. Living the Jesus way is how the brokenness is made whole.

Life tends to be full of reminders that much of what we work to gain and preserve here on earth can be gone in the blink of an eye. This current economic environment has been a stark reality check that the value of our property, our investments, our jobs, our bank accounts can lose their worth faster than we ever imagined. The aging process reminds us that the same smile and attitude that opened doors for us several decades ago won’t get our foot in the door today. The hairstyles that worked for us in the 80s are just the butt of our children’s jokes today. Keeping up with the Jones’s is like being on a never-ending treadmill. If we base our hope and value on the relationships we have, those, too, are not guaranteed beyond today.

So, is it wrong to work hard to provide for your family? Is it sinful to save toward your retirement? Is it something shameful if you have worked your way into a position of leadership and respect in your field or in the community? Is it wrong to be happy that you have a good-looking wife and beautiful children? Absolutely not! An adamant “No” to all of those questions. But none of those will make you whole or fulfill God’s purposes for you. There has to be something more in our lives. Scripture would have us ask these kinds of questions of ourselves: What are you doing to make a lasting difference in this world? What meaningful work are you doing for the kingdom of God? Are you giving the first fruits of your labor to further Christ’s work in the world? Are you helping meet the needs of those around you? Are you giving sacrificially in any way? That means, are you giving UP something or giving OF yourself to the point of making yourself somewhat uncomfortable?

Sin stands between you and me and our path to holiness. Only one thing can bridge that gulf, and that is the love of Jesus Christ poured out on the cross for all of us. It is hard for me to comprehend fully the love that would cause someone to die on the cross for me. It helps me to understand that love when I remember that Jesus, this man who died for me on the cross, just hours earlier took the time to do the most menial of tasks for the ones he loved. He wrapped a towel around himself and took a basin with water and washed the disciples’ feet. If I had been there, he would have washed my feet, too. He would not have cared whether or not I had a recent pedicure, although I am enough like Peter that I would probably sweat that detail first thing. Jesus wouldn’t have cared. He would have taken my feet gently in his hands. He wouldn’t have even mentioned the rough, peeling skin or the bunions or whether or not I had polished my toenails. He would have held my feet ever-so-tenderly, knowing they were tired from trudging around with all my burdens, and he would have brought refreshment to my soul and spirit as he ministered to my needs. If we only give lip-service to our understanding of the Cross and don’t live the Jesus way, we are not Easter people.

I hope that as we experience Crucifixion and Resurrection in days to come, we will keep the vision of Jesus with a towel and basin at the forefront of our thoughts, because it shows us where we go next. It helps us know what to do with all the emotion churned up by the realities thrust upon us during our experience of this Lenten season. Once when I was in a service of Holy Communion, the pastor administering the sacrament offered the elements in this way. He held the bread in front of us and said these words: “This loaf is whole. We are broken.” Then he broke the bread and said, “Jesus became broken that we might be made whole.” And then he held the cup up in front of us and said, “This cup is full. We are empty. Jesus poured himself out that we might be made full.” And therein is Truth! It is only in giving ourselves away that we stumble upon true joy and wholeness in our lives. May we in this Lenten season be overcome with the compassion of Christ, so that we may live as compassionate people in this world that would tug us in so many other directions.

Thanks be for the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ, a love so big and wide that we can only comprehend it in small glimpses.

John 13:8 “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part of me.”

No Harassing of the Ducks!

Yes, that is posted on a sign in a public park, only a few blocks from where I live. So why in the world would anyone want to harass a duck? I guess someone, somewhere at some time and by the power of some inner prompting well beyond my comprehension felt compelled to pick on a poor defenseless water fowl minding his own business. Or else it wouldn't be posted, right?

It is resolution time, or perhaps well past! Many have already compiled their lists and are well into making resolutions a reality. Others have already abandoned a resolution or two and moved on to larger living. Resolutions require a narrowing of focus, a measuring of what is now a reality and quantifying or qualifying what we want to be the new reality. For some reason I keep thinking my resolve for days ahead has something to do with leaving those blame ducks alone! That enigmatic sign seems to be tatooed on my spirit in some way that keeps calling me to ponder.

One of my core values is to endeavor always to leave a place or space better than I found it. But even though I claim that as a core value, I'm not sure I always practice what I believe or preach. Do I always live in a way that leaves a wake of "better?" Perhaps some days that happens more successfully than others. But at any rate, very little in my life really just happens without being purposed. Either consciously or unconsciously, my actions and their impact on the world have something to do with an inner compass. Every now and then, that inner compass pivots toward something other than my True North. Perhaps I am feeling less than stellar about myself and follow a prompting to put someone else down in order to pump myself up. Or maybe my focus aims itself toward self-gratification, and to get exactly what I want at a particular moment in time means someone else's needs have to be ignored or subjugated to my own desire.

So this year I want to find my way back to a dead reckoning on my True North every day. What begins in my heart works its way forward into my actions. What I think and believe and contemplate is ultimately who I am and what I do. The earth IS good, and all that is in it. I want this year to be a time of growing in the certainty that pretty much everything I do has consequences, either intentional or unintentional. I don't want to think of myself more highly than I ought, but it is naive to think that our individual lives happen in a vacuum. Each day there are ripples that begin with me and work their way into larger and larger concentric circles. Each day I make decisions for better or worse, or even for good, better or best. "Best" is a good target and if I miss it, at least I'm shooting in the right direction!

May I so live in this world every day that my purposes align with higher Purposes, and those around me experience some of the incumbent blessings of living in harmony with creation.

Psalm 24: 1 The earth is the Lord's and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it; for he founded it upon the seas and established it upon the waters.