Growing up, we always had pancakes on Saturdays.
But not just any pancakes – Finnish pancakes!
Instead of being thick and fluffy, like Canadian ones, Finnish pancakes are more like crepes. They’re much larger and thinner and even more delicious… in my opinion at least.
All of this was my dad’s doing. He would mix the batter and fry up our pancake feast for us and even as we got older and started to try making them ourselves, it was always tastier when he would make them.
I dunno about how you pass along recipes, but for us it’s more of a feeling. Two eggs, one cup of milk and as much flour as it takes to get the batter like “this”. Once you get the hang of it, it’s not a problem! But until you’re able to get the feel for it, that first pancake would be the moment of truth.
I couldn’t even guess how many first pancakes I’ve discarded with grumbles of “Ugh. More flour?!” It would be thin and watery and gross.
Lately I’ve been thinking about how sometimes a day will feel a little bit more like a first pancake kind of day. I will have had more meetings and calls and emails and not enough time with the Lord… making for a very flimsy and unsatisfactory day.
Sure it might be productive and I might check lots off a list, but my spirit is left feeling hungry and tired; utterly unfulfilled.
In some ways this can be encouraging because it means my spirit knows that there is something more and that what I need is time with God. In other ways it can feel frustrating to realize that, despite knowing what I need, I’m still spreading myself too thin. I need more flour!
In the west end, they have some beautiful stained glass windows that read, “Come to Me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest… Matthew 11:28”.
Sometimes “time with the Lord” can look as simple as pausing long enough to take a few deep breaths and bring my burdens to him. Some days it’s not a super intense exegetical study on the book of Revelations! Some days I actually don’t need a deep dive into the depths of theology… some days I simply need rest.
But when rest doesn’t get to look like a cottage weekend or hike through the woods or a walk to my favourite bakery, rest needs to look like something else.
One of my favourite things to do is to imagine a container in my mind’s eye. To picture a box or a crate or suitcase. I fill it up with the things that are weighing down on me. The un-replied-to emails, the sink full of dishes, the unfolded laundry or the friend who is really hurting. I place them in the container and I bring it over to Jesus and I wait to see what he will do with it.
I’ve never been let down by him in my imagination nor have I been turned away from him in reality either. It is a kind and gentle Jesus who invites me to go to him and it’s a faithful Jesus who meets my needs with rest. With peace. With patience or perseverance. With a second wind.
May we be people who never grow weary or burdened from going to Jesus for rest.