Christ Makes Every Meal Better

I can still recall, around the age of ten, standing in the kitchen of my childhood home and seeing my mom’s three-ring binder open on the counter. She had inserted patriotic clip art into the front plastic cover with the words “Fourth of July” printed over the top. Inside the binder, she included a master plan for every meal she would make for our family and the out-of-town guests hosted at our house for the week, as well as a menu for the Fourth of July party, which would welcome even more people. The plan for the party day was elaborate and huge. The meals included breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, with the occasional note that our guests would be out getting their own lunch or breakfast.

As a child, I appreciated none of the work involved. This isn’t to say I was ungrateful; I just didn’t grasp the massive effort and planning my mom undertook to feed so many people! It’s a marvel to me that she ever found time to leave the kitchen.

One of the learning curves we encounter as wives and moms is that of regularly and cheerfully feeding people whose appetites are renewed every day, just like the sunrise. I recall the sense of shock as our family grew and I realized they never stopped needing food — and that making breakfast, lunch, and dinner would be tasks that continued for the long haul. How this simple reality escaped my notice — particularly considering I grew up in a home with a mom who went to great pains to make sure we were well-fed — is a mystery, but I don’t think I’m an isolated case. I hear many young wives and moms remark with surprise at how much of their life is devoted to food prep and how much time they spend in the kitchen.

Given the regularity of the work we’ve been assigned, don’t you want to grow in learning to do it willingly, cheerfully, and competently — in a way that pleases God?

Necessary Nourishment

It goes without saying, but food is not optional. God intentionally made us to need food every day. One of the reasons he did this is so that we would recognize our dependence on him both physically and spiritually. Jesus taught us to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread,” right alongside, “Forgive us our debts.” Our physical and spiritual needs are both regularly and daily met by Christ (Matthew 6:11–12). Yet, so often, both our physical and spiritual needs are met through human means. Our food does not come to us as manna from the sky. It comes through the labors of the farmer, the butcher, the baker, and the grocer — and for my children, it comes through the provision of an earthly father and the labor of an earthly mother.

There are two ways to reckon with this practical reality as a mom who is repeatedly asked, “What’s for dinner?” The first is to claim an identity that makes good meals an anomaly and an enigma. Some women confidently assert, “I don’t cook.” But this is a little like a schoolteacher saying, “I don’t read,” or a father saying, “I don’t play with children,” or a doctor saying, “I don’t bandage wounds.” Everyone must eat, so whether you’re single or married, a mother or not, making food is part of life. You will either learn to do it well, or you will do it poorly. But no one gets to opt out. And if you are a wife and mother, it will be a considerable part of the work you do on behalf of others, so why not get good at it?

“Isn’t God kind to make our journey in the kitchen correspond to the needs of our family?”

The good news is that you don’t need to become an expert overnight. Considering the regularity of the task, you have lots of time to practice making nourishing and delicious meals. And if your children are young, then the cooking can similarly be “young” — little children don’t require (or want) fancy food. Isn’t God kind to make our journey in the kitchen correspond to the needs of our family — starting small and simple, then growing into something larger and more advanced?

The second — and better — approach to meal preparation accepts it as a God-given calling (Ephesians 2:10). Pursue cooking “heartily, as for the Lord and not for men” (Colossians 3:23). The trick, as with all of life, is to determine in your heart to see God’s goodness in the duties he’s placed before you. You can do the job by faith and find enjoyment in the work itself and in the God who gave you that work. Just as God faithfully provides for us out of his great love, so also we can treat our time in the kitchen as an expression of our love for God and the people he’s given us.

Food as Fellowship

Try to think of the happiest earthly scene you can imagine. What comes to mind? A wedding? A baby being born? One of the first things I picture is a table full of people in fellowship with God and one another, nourishing themselves with the tastes and delights of a meal prepared for them.

As Christians, we can quickly move past the food, considering it an incidental need disconnected from the weightier realities of life. But food isn’t incidental to our fellowship with God and man. When we gather for the Lord’s Supper with his people, the bread and the wine are not an accident of providence; they are the appointed means of remembering and sharing in Christ. Similarly, when we gather around the table with our people at home, food is the appointed means of our nourishment and the signifier of our fellowship. Paul warns the Corinthians “not even to eat with” the so-called believer who is living in unrepentant sexual immorality (1 Corinthians 5:11). Why? Because eating together signifies fellowship.

But that time of sharing a meal around the table doesn’t just happen. It must be planned and prepared. This is, fundamentally, an echo of the work Christ does for us. He prepares a place for us, he gives himself for food, and he dresses himself for service at the table (Luke 12:37; John 6:35; 14:2). It is a privilege to prepare a meal for the people around our table, to provide something delicious best enjoyed in community. It is also a duty and a discipline. There are real skills involved in making food, not just good thoughts. There is real work to be done in the kitchen, not just idyllic sentiments. There are real messes to be cleaned up, not just picture-perfect social media posts.

“Our joy should be like the oil drizzled on focaccia ­— overflowing the sides of the loaf, soaking every bite.”

Preparing and cooking food is a skill and an art. There is a reason why cooking schools exist and hardworking and talented chefs rise to fame. Grocery shopping within budget, understanding flavor profiles, becoming proficient in cuts of meat, learning how to balance a meal with side dishes, picking up skills in baking, tailoring the food choices to best serve your family’s or guests’ dietary needs, setting a welcoming table — these are the disciplines of preparing for fellowship. They are not ethereal; they are practiced. My mom’s menu binders didn’t drop on her lap from heaven. One person’s discipline paved the way to a party for dozens!

Joy Around the Table

Once the preparation is done — the table is set, the food is hot, the people are gathered — then the real work begins. We practice joy around the table. And while this sounds like the easy part, it is often where we trip up. We find we have become a little too like Martha in our preparing and are struggling to simply enjoy the kids’ antics and exchange a smile with our husband (Luke 10:38–42). Yet we happy women of Christ don’t need to wait until we’ve sat down at the table to start practicing our joy. We can let it drive our delight in the flavor profiles, the set table, and the new skills acquired for making a cinnamon roll. The same Lord and Savior who welcomes us to his table empowers us to welcome many in Jesus’s name.

Our joy should be like the oil drizzled on focaccia — overflowing the sides of the loaf, soaking every bite. It comes with us to the table and binds us together with God’s people. That is the kind of happy wife and mother whose presence makes the kitchen exactly where everyone wants to be. Why? Good food, joyful service, and the fellowship of Christ for all who would come.