Thanks to the generosity of a church family, my preschooler and I spent the night making pasta. Around 3:45 pm, I started the process of making dough by hand. After 35 minutes, I had the first inkling something wasn’t quite right. Nevertheless, I persisted. I wrapped the dough in plastic wrap to let it sit for half an hour. Then tried to roll it out. Way too tough. I started over again. This time with the standing mixer, again not quite sure this second batch would work either. It took more water and time to come together than the recipe called for yet I wasn’t ready to give up. Sit for 20 minutes. Said a prayer….it’s 5pm and the family has to eat. Cut into 4. There’s always peanut butter. Roll through the pasta maker. It actually worked!
Christine and I faithfully rolled out sheet after sheet of pasta for an hour. Settings 0, 1, 2, 3….all the way to 9. We squealed with glee as we watched real linguine and spaghetti formed before our eyes. We proudly presented our meal to Justin. “Look what we made! With our own hands! Did you try the spaghetti AND the linguine?” Surely the shape makes it taste completely different. We did not sit down to eat dinner until 7pm–much later than I expected us to eat– but we were incredibly proud of what we created– no matter how long it took. Even if Christine fell asleep while eating it…
From the internet and service industries to cars and dieting, our society expects fast speed results from everything. Yet we read in scripture about slow growth. The stories of our faith include stories of the mustard seed, the parable of the sower, vine and branches and fruit bearing trees. Wilderness journeys for 40 years and days fishing with no catch to bring home. None of these examples are things that grow fast or produce instant results. Perhaps that’s why we plant churches rather than manufacture them. Growth, whether that be in an individual or a community (as in a ministry or church), is not growth that typically happens overnight.
It’s the result of faithful people who are willing to tend to the soil over time. Adjusting to the weather patterns and remaining sensitive to fluctuating needs. Sometimes it means watching what you thought would work die off and starting over again with new insight and direction. Sometimes it means being willing to stay working much longer than you expected. But once you begin to see results, it’s that much more rewarding.
I’m wondering what slow work are you faithful to in this season? What do you hope to experience? What frustrations do you have? What have you learned and how are you pivoting? What joy would it give you to witness the fruits of your labor? Where might you ask God for help (wisdom, patience, others, etc.) and how can you give God the glory?
