The Recipe…
The Recipe…
There are some recipes that are worth more than the paper they are written on.
You know the kind. The card is stained. The handwriting is fading. Maybe there are ingredients crossed out or something written in the margin. And sometimes the instructions aren’t really instructions at all because Grandma just knew when it was right.
We have some of those recipes in our family.
Sandy and her grandma had a really special relationship, and a lot of their memories together were made in the kitchen. Even now, so much of what Thanksgiving tastes like in our family goes back to her.
I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced something like that, but food has a strange way of carrying memories.
Someone can be gone for years, and then you walk into a kitchen and smell something familiar.
For just a second, you’re back there.
You remember the kitchen. The table. The laughter. Maybe even the sound of their voice.
They’re not there.
But something they gave you still is.
I’ve been thinking about that lately.
Because recipes can disappear too.
If nobody watches. If nobody asks. If nobody writes it down. Eventually, something everybody once knew how to make becomes something everybody only remembers.
That’s what popped in my mind last week when I read this verse last week…
By the Holy Spirit who dwells within us, guard the good deposit ENTRUSTED to you.
2 Timothy 1:14
That word entrusted has stayed with me.
I didn’t come up with this story about Jesus.
Neither did you.
Somewhere along the way, it reached us.
Maybe somebody took you to church when you were little. Maybe it was your mom or dad. Maybe it was a grandparent. Maybe it was a complete stranger or someone on your TV. Maybe you were much older before someone finally helped you understand who Jesus really is.
BUT… Somebody knew the story before you did.
And they handed it to you.
I think that’s why those old recipes have been on my mind.
Sandy’s grandma isn’t here anymore, but there are still moments when something she made finds its way onto our table.
Her hands are gone, but what she handed down isn’t.
There’s something about that that gets me.
TRUTH… Someday our hands will be gone too. I find myself wondering less about what people will remember about us and more about what will still be in their hands because we were here…
Someone handed us the Gospel…
Who are we going to hand it to?
There are some recipes that are worth more than the paper they are written on.
You know the kind. The card is stained. The handwriting is fading. Maybe there are ingredients crossed out or something written in the margin. And sometimes the instructions aren’t really instructions at all because Grandma just knew when it was right.
We have some of those recipes in our family.
Sandy and her grandma had a really special relationship, and a lot of their memories together were made in the kitchen. Even now, so much of what Thanksgiving tastes like in our family goes back to her.
I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced something like that, but food has a strange way of carrying memories.
Someone can be gone for years, and then you walk into a kitchen and smell something familiar.
For just a second, you’re back there.
You remember the kitchen. The table. The laughter. Maybe even the sound of their voice.
They’re not there.
But something they gave you still is.
I’ve been thinking about that lately.
Because recipes can disappear too.
If nobody watches. If nobody asks. If nobody writes it down. Eventually, something everybody once knew how to make becomes something everybody only remembers.
That’s what popped in my mind last week when I read this verse last week…
By the Holy Spirit who dwells within us, guard the good deposit ENTRUSTED to you.
2 Timothy 1:14
That word entrusted has stayed with me.
I didn’t come up with this story about Jesus.
Neither did you.
Somewhere along the way, it reached us.
Maybe somebody took you to church when you were little. Maybe it was your mom or dad. Maybe it was a grandparent. Maybe it was a complete stranger or someone on your TV. Maybe you were much older before someone finally helped you understand who Jesus really is.
BUT… Somebody knew the story before you did.
And they handed it to you.
I think that’s why those old recipes have been on my mind.
Sandy’s grandma isn’t here anymore, but there are still moments when something she made finds its way onto our table.
Her hands are gone, but what she handed down isn’t.
There’s something about that that gets me.
TRUTH… Someday our hands will be gone too. I find myself wondering less about what people will remember about us and more about what will still be in their hands because we were here…
Someone handed us the Gospel…
Who are we going to hand it to?
Recent
Archive
2026
February
Jesus loves the little children of the world.Hey friend, do you know what God calls an angry prayer?Maybe years down the road, they will remember that person who was still kind when they never had to be.When I was a kid, freedom felt normal.Ash Wednesday, Lent, and a Pastor Who Never Grew Up With Any of It...
March
April
May
June
July
August
SENT JournalSENT DAY 2 Mission Trip JournalSent Day 3: Tires, Tiny Boxes, and the Question We’re All AvoidingSENT: Mission Trip Journal Day 4 - The Time You Have LeftThere’s something terrifying about a rip current because it doesn’t necessarily feel dangerous at first.Since yesterday, I can’t stop thinking about old receipts.
September
October
November
2025
February
March
April
May
July
August
November
Categories
no categories
No Comments