It’s not often that I get to amaze people, but I did it the other day. I was talking to a friend about my day and told her I had been spent a good bit of my afternoon cooking. She asked me what I had made and my list included brownies.
“REAL brownies?” she asked.
“Uh – yea, REAL brownies,” I answered.
“You mean from scratch – not a mix?” she asked, her amazement obviously growing.
“Oh yea,” I replied. “I never buy brownie mixes. Once you’ve had the real thing, a mix just doesn’t cut it.”
My friend, who is younger than I and even more deeply entrenched in the fast-food, drive-through, microwavable culture of our day, was astounded that I would make brownies from scratch. I was astounded that anyone would do otherwise, unless they’d never tasted the real thing.
Mashed potatoes are like that for me, too. Perhaps too many school lunches featuring institutional mashed potatoes and “mystery meat” birthed within me the firm conviction that instant spuds are pretty much a waste of good taters.
I’m certainly not obsessive about cooking from scratch. Cake mixes, spaghetti sauce, frozen French fries, and lots of other time-saving wonders grace my pantry and fridge, and I am thankful for them.
But sometimes, only the real thing will do. And the older I get, that philosophy seems to be seeping into more and more areas of my life. It’s even affected how I view life and death.
I used to get pretty bent out of shape if I thought about exiting this world before I had experienced and accomplished all I wanted to. I didn’t want to die, or for Jesus to return, before I’d gotten married, had kids, played with my grandchildren, seen the Grand Canyon, visited Wimbledon, or done any number of other things.
Now, nearly every day at some point, I sigh and whisper, “It would be just fine with me, Jesus, if You came back right now!” (By the way, this thought is much more likely to pop into my consciousness when I am engaged in activities like cleaning bathrooms, visiting my gynecologist’s office, driving in Atlanta, or opening my Discover card bill.)
I used to be seriously ambitious and felt my life would be a waste if I didn’t conquer my list of high and lofty goals. But the older I get, the more I seem to measure things differently.
You see, I believe God is opening my eyes to the fact that every good thing in this life is just a pale imitation of a deeper, more wonderful pleasure I will experience in heaven. The best relationships here are just shadows of the kinds of relationships I’ll enjoy there, where everyone will be without sin and selfishness. The most satisfying feelings of accomplishment here are just cheap versions of the fulfillment I’ll feel there, where I’ll be known and loved perfectly.
When you get down to it, it’s all instant mashed potatoes and brownie mixes down here, and you and I were made for something better than that. In heaven, everything will be from scratch – and perfect. The best, the deepest, and the most of everything. God has been working on heaven for thousands of years, and Jesus said He was going to “prepare a place” for His believers. If a perfect, loving God has been working on my “place” for that long, my imagination can’t even begin to grasp how great it will be.
Don’t misunderstand me – I love my life. But I hunger for the real thing … and I know God is getting the real thing ready for me … and that makes all the instant, prefab, bland, plastic, fake and shadowy things of this life a whole lot easier to swallow.