My seven-year-old son has been reacquainting himself with Laurie Berkner and is currently obsessed with her song The Cookie Bakers of the Night. So, one night, wanting to do something fun with my son, I asked Caleb if he wanted to bake cookies with me. His response was an affirmative scream.
I got all the ingredients out and started to prepare them like we were filming a cooking show so all he would have to do is dump and mix. Caleb came up to the counter, took one look at all the ingredients, wrinkled his nose, and stared at me with a look of disdain and a thumbs down.
“NOOO!!! Cookies!”
Like I was crazy.
I realized that when I look at the ingredients, I draw upon many previous experiences making cookies. I know how the ingredients work together to make something good. I can see the end from the beginning. My son does not have that prior knowledge. To him these ingredients did not inspire confidence that I know how to give good gifts.
I can’t really blame him. You would think after a few major experiences of God working circumstances for my good I would have learned to trust Him a little more. My son’s diagnosis of autism led to a rich prayer life and walk with God and friendships with extraordinary people. My diagnosis of IBD, years of painful symptoms, and eventual remission taught me the value of persistence in prayer and not going it alone.
Despite all this, I still find myself staring at the baking soda and lamenting, when I should be moving forward. It is as if past experiences have been erased.
Turns out there is a name for that big eraser—cynicism. The great robber of joy.
I notice my cynicism in what I don’t pray about. It is as if I have police tape around certain areas of my life that I designate as things I can solve on my own. Then I get to the point where I am overwhelmed and feeling hopeless. That is when I realize that I haven’t brought whatever I am struggling with to God. Once I start praying, sometimes after exhausting ALL other resources, I feel God saying, “Finally. I thought you would never ask.”
My most recent display of cynicism was in potty training my son. Autism and potty training do not mix well. What some people accomplish in 3 days I would be lucky to accomplish in a year. We spent one year using an egg timer to get him to notice the sensation of having to pee and getting to the toilet in time. The pandemic hit when we were working on him sitting on the toilet to poop. It never occurred to me to pray to God about poop, even though this was a major struggle. The bathroom seems like an off-limits area to pray. But after a year of futile wrestling, I realized I needed God. I had been reading books, scouring the internet, creating reward charts and employing next-level bribery (Mommy will buy you ANY toy if you poop in the toilet.). Nothing was working. As soon as I sat him on the toilet he would say “No! Diaper! Bye, bye poop in the toilet!”
So one day I prayed. In the bathroom. Out loud. I prayed for God to help us and to help my son poop in the toilet. God responded instantly. My son was trained from that moment forward.
His reward was a Shell gas station toy that he picked out himself. For about a week after that, he would go into the bathroom and we would hear him call out “Amoco gas station!” “Chevron gas station!” and we would know he was pooping in the toilet.
Even in this situation, I could feel my brain explaining it away, robbing me of the joy of God showing up and giving me a good gift.
C.S. Lewis writes in The Abolition of Man, “You cannot go on ‘explaining away’ forever: you will find that you have explained explanation itself away.” (pg. 81).
I want to get to the point where I see the baking soda on the counter of my life and instead of putting my thumb down at God and looking around for the good gift I was thinking of, trusting Him to take something bitter to raise the dough of something good.
I finished making the cookies and presented them to Caleb. He smiled and jumped up and down, then grabbed the cookies and threw them in the air. As I screamed “No!” in protest, the ending of
The Cookie Bakers of the Night came flooding back. I should have seen this coming.
Lord, help me release the need to control the process and know the end from the beginning. Kill my cynicism as I face bitter things that I don’t understand and replace it with joy that I am facing it with You. Help me to trust and be satisfied that You see the end from the beginning and You know the path to good things from any starting point. Help me to reach out for more of You instead of more of what I think I want. You know better than I do how to give me good gifts. Many times that good gift is more of You. Thank you. Amen.