missing hinges and broken lids...

I asked for my first Crock Pot as a gift... 12 years ago. Fresh out of college, I had no idea what items I would need in my kitchen because I possessed very little cooking skills. My mother was always faithful to provide a home cooked meal for our family, but I had little desire to learn the art of cooking while living under my parents' roof. I enjoyed baking. More than baking, I enjoyed the finished product. And so I knew how to make desserts, warm up frozen meals, assemble a sandwich, and prepare any packaged food that didn't require more than three ingredients or steps. But now that I was a full-fledged adult, I felt it appropriate to make myself better acquainted with the kitchen. 

My mom used her Crock Pot often. I think it was one she had received as a gift when she married my dad in the early 80s. There were many mornings I would wake up with to the smell of dinner, as the appliance had cooked our meal during the night. Or, we'd come home from church or a full day out and about and dinner would be waiting in the kitchen. I wasn't sure how to use the Crock Pot, but I figured any appliance that would do the cooking for me was worth having. 

I unwrapped what would become my most treasured kitchen appliance to discover how high-tech it was. The lid was held on by a hinge so it could be easily lifted and a incredibly amazing digital timer was positioned on the front of the pot, unlike my mom's pot which only had three settings and a knob that required turning. I was the proud owner of an advanced machine, and the first meal I cooked in it was a total disaster. Having no idea how to properly set the cooking time, I came home to find my pot roast a black lump of charred meat that was stuck to the bottom of the pot. All of the liquid was scorched onto the pot as well and there was no amount of soaking that would remove it. I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed that pot and came to the conclusion that my first time of using it would be my last. This brand new pot, perfectly good appliance, was destined for the trash because of user error. In a last ditch effort to save my Crock Pot, I called my dad. The man is a fixer of all things so surely he could come up with a solution. Thankfully, he saved my pot, and that dear pot has been my right hand man, so to speak, for the last decade. 

That Crock Pot made dinner possible for the first few months of Annabeth's life. And when I was working, there was nothing I appreciated more than coming home to a meal that was ready to eat. I have used that pot for more things than I ever know possible when I received it as a gift, and the more I have used it, the more it has fallen apart. About 5 years ago, the hinge broke off the lid, but I kept the pot because it still worked perfectly fine. And then the handle broke off of the lid, but I glued it back on. It broke off again, and I glued it back again. And the third time it broke, Aaron bought me a new pot that was even more fancy. Updated. Clean. Multi-functional. But I couldn't part with my faithful kitchen companion because throwing away something that still works and can be useful goes against my nature. And so my dad said, "Let me take the lid home and see what I can do. I think I have a fix for it." And sure enough, he did and I plan to keep using that Crock Pot until the day it no longer warms food. 

We live in a disposable society. We throw things away without thought. The moment they break or become blemished or something shinier and newer comes along, we dispose of perfectly good and useful items because we don't see how they can further meet our need. And this behavior is encouraged. It's proven in the clothes that wear out after a few washes and in the new versions of phones that are released almost yearly. There's always something better out there. Something fresh. In season. New. And, truth be told, I often find myself feeling very much like my Crock Pot. I'm now a third of the way through my life (as my husband kindly reminded me on my birthday), and that's assuming I'll live a full century. I know I'm not old and worn out yet, but I do have some obvious wear tear. Yet more than feeling worn out, I find myself feeling my days are over. Too late to the party. I am no longer the shiny, new, advanced model. There are newer ones, and they have more features and functions, and it seems they're better programmed for the job. They can do more, work faster, and as I watch them, with my missing hinge and broken lid, I can't help but feel like it's too late. My turn is up. The ship has sailed. That train has left the station. And so I just ride out my days doing what I'm doing because I am now the out of date back up, sitting in the cabinet and hoping and praying that God, out of his grace and kindness, will still find opportunities to use me. 

Paul wrote a letter to the church in Phillipi. Greeting them with grace, peace, and thanksgiving, Paul says, "In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."

He will carry it on to completion. God, who began the good work in the first place, will make sure it gets done. My Crock Pot cannot operate itself. It cannot set itself on the counter, add in the ingredients, and turn itself on to cook. I, the chef, do all of those things. I partner with the Crock Pot to get dinner on the table. And so I come up with the recipe, I decide on what night we'll eat said recipe, I buy the ingredients, prepare and place them in the pot, turn the pot on, and then it's the pot's responsibility to cook. Truthfully, without me, the pot can do nothing. Sounds kind of like Jesus' words in John 15:5, doesn't it? "I am the vine, you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing." 

If we have breath in our lungs, God has a use for us. We are still necessary and needed and we serve a purpose. We may not see it, or even feel like it, but God does. He has a reason for creating and sustaining you and me. But our job is to partner with him, and when the task is given, we do it. We hold up our end of the equation, knowing in confidence that he will do his part, too. And together, we'll carry out the good work that He began on the day He set our heartbeat in motion.