A Well-Seasoned Life

 Ask any world-class chef and they will tell you that the greatest dishes aren't the ones that were whipped up in the shortest time or zapped in a microwave or tossed onto the oven rack to be ready to eat in 10 minutes. Rather, the dishes that are the most memorable, traditional, fulfilling are the ones that took intentionality to make... the ones where the chef had to take their time and do all the intricate steps so that the result was absolute perfection when it reached the plate. These are the ones who craft culinary creations that become Michelin-star rated and keep the customers coming again and again for an eating experience of a lifetime.   

And ask the best violin makers in the world and they will same almost the same thing when it comes to bringing the highest quality stringed instrument to life: the wood they use has been aging for decades - drying and forming and waiting to be turned into something that will stir the human soul. And the varnish? Most renowned craftsman of the trade use a batch of varnish that was made years and years before... sometimes as long as twenty years... with a recipe that's unique to them and is specially-designed for the sound and the look that they particularly want. 

And go also ask any person who has survived the forging of their own faith and they will agree with the rest... 

It's impossible to attain the best things without patiently waiting for and investing in them years before they happen. Anyone who ever dreamed or envisioned a life of any worth did so by playing the long game.

In order to craft the perfect dish, the perfect violin, the perfect story, you must grow accustomed to things taking time. Because the good things always take longer and that's what makes them worthwhile in the end. We appreciate the things we were asked to hold out for, pray for, work for, wait for. We value more what didn't come easy and, in a world where everyone wants all of the easy things, this is counter to the life most choose to live. And this is what makes hope so hard. 

Visit any other cultures in the world and one of the first things you'll notice is that the population is much better at taking their time. They take pride in the crafts and the traditions and the aspects that make their country unique and they think nothing of dedicating hours or even a lifetime to the preservation of such things in their nation that matter. Yet, here in the West, progress and production is so important that we've all but left the more patience-creating things behind in pursuit of the quickest, most efficient way of getting anything done... including facing our own problems. We want the fastest and least-resistant path to our goals. It would drive many of us crazy to sit at a workbench for two weeks in a place like Italy, slowly bringing a violin to life from a block of wood. But these other places take delight in it. Playing the long game is their pleasure because they value their history, their ways so much. 

In some aspects, the Bible speaks to as much when it says that hope is what saves us "but hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently" (Romans 8:24-25). The things that we need to keep begging at God's throne for... the things we need to keep trusting for... the things we need to working towards... the things we need to keep praying for... the things we need to keep dreaming for... those are the miracles we someday look back on and say, That was the Lord. 

So if the key to a well-seasoned life is time and patience... why feel the need to rush through this thing so hurriedly? If the call of God was to "be still...and wait patiently for Him" (Psalm 37:7), then the urgency so many decide to live out their days with become unnecessary. unimportant. futile. If the scriptures tell us that in "returning and rest is your salvation" and "in quietness and trust is your strength" (Isaiah 30:15), then we no longer need to join the frenetic pace of society and instead, can give ourselves permission to take the Master's way that leads to everlasting life. We can come and learn the patterns of Him who did not hesitate to remove Himself into wilderness places in order to hear the voice of His Father for whom He did all things. 

And the carving and cutting and stirring that it takes to create the greatest recipe, the greatest violin, the greatest life? Even that has its place in the seasoning process as the Creator chisels and refines His creation through trusted hands, all to the glory of His name. Those times of deep suffering when it feels like He is sanding you thin and pressing you deep and boiling you long - those are the exact times when you are becoming most like Him... the times when you begin to be emptied and fashioned into the person He has envisioned all along. And you will not be a savory dish that delights all those who taste of it, and you will not be a conduit for the heavenly song someday unless you go through such seasons. 

The things we most treasure - the best things - are the ones that were delayed gratification. We didn't come by them simply or easily. We had to give it time and wait expectantly. We had to exercise our hope. It was often hidden, imperceptible at times. It was difficult and felt long. We couldn't always figure out and understand what was happening, but we chose to believe. And in the end, we were able to celebrate and enjoy the satisfaction of what we had longed for. So is the case with all our stories - we may not always see what God is up to and it won't always feel comfortable. But the goal is always a well-seasoned life, and there is none better in the business than the One who made the galaxies while also calling your very name.