Measuring Up

    The overripe bananas on the counter were begging for attention. Within a few minutes of retrieving one of my recipes and checking for ingredients, banana bread making was underway. Oddly enough, I was distracted. Between thinking about an audiobook story and having interrupting thoughts over a concerning situation, I found myself double checking the recipe often. Realizing there were no mistakes or omissions left me feeling relieved. Being able to use the food processor for the wet ingredients was also a relief since I strongly dislike the aroma of or the sound of mashing bananas. Once the food processor was whirring, I relaxed. Seconds passed before I noticed that something seemed amiss. Though the small appliance was smoothing out the ingredients, the faint bumping around of something caught my attention. Stopping the food processor and removing the lid revealed an obvious face-palm moment. In my distraction, I had accidentally left a red plastic measuring spoon in the bowl. For the next several minutes, extracting the tiny flecks of red from the batter became necessary. My family was forewarned to remove any red “sprinkles” that they might find later.

    Once the bread was in the oven, the clean up process began. Ingredients were returned to their storage places and washing the dirtied dishes was next. As I picked up and fingered the red plastic measuring spoon, now with visible slashes and a more textured feel, realization dawned. I am still going to bake, and that measuring spoon is still going to be useful. However, the spoon and I had something in common. Mistakes. Though the spoon did not make any mistakes, I did. Will I now be labeled as an incompetent baker who is inferior or useless because of a mistake? Will the spoon be left in the drawer, ignored, intentionally avoided, or passed over for a perfect spoon, because it shows visible signs of mistakes?

    From the outside, no one would be able to determine that I had made a mistake the other day, but if you checked my set of measuring spoons, the tablespoon would definitely stand out from the rest. Mistakes are not always visible, but when they are, I think many of us (myself included) unknowingly or otherwise, tuck people away in a drawer or label them as useless because of a simple mistake. If there are ongoing mistakes then the drawer gets locked. And if we are not tucking them away and deeming them unworthy for use, then we are regularly scrutinizing them, constantly reminding them of their mistakes, or purposefully pointing out the mistakes to others. After all, they do not measure up to our expectations or personal standards. But where is the kindness, love, forgiveness, and grace in that? How does any of that model Ephesians 4:32?

Jesus spoke the truth in love when confronting sin in others, but He did not shun them, treat them as useless, or continually remind them of their sin. Instead,

    He prayed (Luke 23:34; John 17, Heb. 7:25). 

    He discipled (John 8:11). 

    He loved (Rom. 5:8, Rom. 8:37-39). 

    He forgave (Eph. 1:7; Luke 5:17-26; 1 John 1:9; Col. 2:13-14).

    He granted grace (Eph. 2:4-5, 8; Rom. 5:15, 17). 

    He restored (John 21:15-19, Rom. 5:9).

And He actively still does. Shouldn't we do the same? "If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men (Rom. 12:18). 

The marred red tablespoon may always remind me of my mistake, but I also think it is my new favorite baking utensil. One that will remind me of love, grace, and forgiveness that should be given and received. And in doing so will measure up to the highest level of expectations…God’s.