The Italian cooking school started out fun and proceeded to get even better, highlighted by the samples of the fruit smoothie, risotto, and baked pasta dishes as the ultimate finish. In experiencing a brunch composed of French and Mediterranean specialties, I found myself thinking of the great chefs behind the recipes. As I imagined their kitchens and the wonderful chaos of it all, I found myself drifting back to a wonderful moment during my first bite of a Swiss chef’s mushroom risotto.
To my response on how much I was enjoying the food, the chef replied, “I cook so that you can have this experience.”
I knew his answer was deeply personal. His gift was intended for me. His presence, smile, and eyes matched my experience with the first spoonful. Intuitively I knew, “But it’s not just Abraham.” (Romans 4.23). His gift was for everyone willing to slow down, taste, and experience his kitchen. His talents, creativity, and actions in the kitchen were priceless gifts, experienced as one and shared without conditions to all members of the family.
While the recipes are available, they serve no purpose unless used. There are more than enough books with pictures, formulas, and instructions on the world’s shelves. It is in one’s embrace, the willingness to get into the kitchen and express oneself with their guidance, that the recipe and its purpose come to life. Without action, recipes are imagination expressions. When someone is willing to use them to guide their actions in the present moment, lives are touched. With a combination of love, care, and cooking, the infused dish etches itself on the fabric of one’s being, inspiring future actions for as long as at least one person remembers.
The table is set for the family. Whoever comes will be served. Life reminds me that you and I, as children of God, have seats reserved at Divinity’s table. No one is excluded. It is accessible to all. The cost of freedom, joy, restoration, and healing has been prepaid.
Welcome to life’s table. The food is served. Please, enjoy.
