The perfect recipe for a witness.
by Isaac Overman
Weigh, sift, mix, grate, combine; knead, roll, fold, cut, bake; cool and eat.
I woke up every Sunday at four in the morning. With the Bee Gees blaring in the background, I got ready for the long two-hour drive to work. At six, I was making buttermilk biscuits, poaching eggs, and mixing the pancake batter. Every weekend was this way for nearly two years.
As my work improved, my responsibilities increased. Not long after I started, I was promoted to executive chef. This was a dream I had harbored for years. I’d worked diligently toward this goal, and now I’d achieved it. My excitement was as though I had won the Olympics. I was sure God had answered my prayers.
Looking back, I realize that the Lord gives, and the Lord takes away.
Frustration
Growing up, I was frustrated because I did not have a moving conversion story or touching testimony. In the Great Commission, Jesus told His disciples to go preach the good news to the world (Matthew 28:19). How could I do that if I did not have a personal story? God had blessed my twin sister and me by placing us in a loving family of faith, immersed in the church. And I could not be more frustrated about it. My father took us across the country to various churches where I heard heart-wrenching stories of loss and restoration.
To be honest, I was jealous.
It seemed that I could not be an effective witness of the good news of Jesus if I could not even provide a moving testimony. I’d accepted Christ as my Savior, but Jesus had always been my Savior. He was all I knew.
Job loss
I dwelled on these thoughts till late last year when, as abruptly as it had started, my restaurant closed. I lost my job.
In the months that followed, I sulked. I lamented all the hours I put into a job that vanished in mere days. I grieved the personal boundaries I had broken between the world and my faith, and my commitment to Christ that had faded from my daily life along the way.
In short, my heart was broken. For more reasons than one. I loved cooking — the heat, the organized chaos, my little kingdom of creativity. But I had put my life on hold for a passion I no longer felt.
After I sufficiently wallowed in my self-pity and barely cooked a single meal for two months, my father reminded me I had agreed months prior to cook for a pastoral breakfast our church was hosting. I reluctantly agreed to fulfill my promise.
I woke up that Saturday at four in the morning. I grabbed my equipment and made myself ready while humming along to my music, as before. For the first time in nearly three months, I cooked. I decided to make the buttermilk biscuits and skillet gravy I had made so many mornings for the restaurant.
As I finished and served the pastors of Newton County,
Arkansas, I was hit by a wave of relief. It sounds funny to write now, but I realized something fundamental to my faith: My life is my conversion story.
Lifelong story
Many Christians describe their conversion story as a singular event in which they were living in sin, then repented and made whole again. But it did not happen that way for me. I learned that day that my conversion story was not just an event but a process, and a process I suspect will take my life to finish.
This occurred to me because, while I had not fallen away from the faith, I had stagnated in the life and walk of conversion. While I worked hard day after day to polish my biscuit recipe, I had left the recipe of my witness to fall by the wayside. A hard reality struck me: I had not been an effective witness to my Savior. Instead, I had compromised my beliefs and testimony in pursuit of my dream. I used the gift God had given me for my own gain, not His.
Romans 12:2 speaks to this hard reality: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (ESV).
I understand now that as our minds are transformed by God, we must continually resist being conformed to the world. As we withstand the world’s pressure, we become witnesses to the world through a life distinct from it. I was so caught up in my dream that I had forgotten to discern God’s will for my life: to share Him faithfully in whatever I did. So the Lord removed the idol that had taken His place in my life, the stumbling block to my testimony: cooking.
My broken heart is mended because God acted to save my life. I recognize that now. As I look forward to the future, I do not know if I will ever lead a restaurant or cook professionally again. What I do know is that I have a testimony for Jesus that is built on my life — how I live it, through my words and actions. My prayer now is that God allows me to make buttermilk biscuits for Him and His people, that I can use my gift to share Him through my life’s testimony.
