Over forty years ago, I burned a kitchen down making Pop-Tarts.
This year’s grand plan is to deliver Thanksgiving dinner without setting off the smoke alarm.
To put it mildly, I fall short of being a gourmet chef—even after all these years of trying.
But that won’t stop me from boldly stepping into the kitchen where people need to be fed.
It’s a matter of faith, not skill.
Cooking and serving Christ have so much in common.
What little we have never seems enough when people arrive at our doorstep. They pile around the table hungry for conversation, and starved for love.
Every time we turn around, the coffee cups are empty, and the relish tray needs refilling.
But before we panic, let’s remember:
Jesus fed 5,000 people with five rolls and two tiny fish, and there were even leftovers.
Imagine what He’ll do with a few kind words and a good cup of coffee poured out in His name.
The possibilities are endless, so let’s invite Him to our impossible holiday dinners.
Give thanks while we peel potatoes; trust the Lord with the lumps.
Brush off comments like “This could use a little salt.” Trust that Jesus is making us the salt of the earth.
Smile big and wait for divine opportunities to steer the conversation from politics to redemption, from accusations to blessings.
Let Jesus reign over every platform—including your holiday table.
Then, every crumb from your imperfect spread can lead others to the Bread of Life.
Jesus said, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” (John 6:35)
When you serve Christ with grace, no one has to go home empty.
Jesus will supply every need—yours, mine, and theirs. Peace and patience will be plenty. Love and joy will overflow.
Perfect presentations are overrated.
People need to see that despite our chipped platters and past flub-ups, our confidence rests in Jesus Christ alone.
Take it from the girl who torched a pastry or two in her day.
Jesus won’t let our holiday efforts go up in smoke.
Let’s be brave and step into our callings and kitchens.
No matter our hosting skills, we serve a miracle-working God.