Over the years I’ve had many cooking pots. I have no idea how many meals of soups, stews and other savory delicacies were cooked in them. These meals were made for family, friends, or whoever happened to be at my table. Most of the time, a pinch of love was thrown in the pot for good measure. On rare occasion, a little bitterness or anger were stirred in and brought to a boil. The amazing thing about it was the anger and bitterness never lasted and neither did the pots.
A few years ago, I bought a new aluminum cooking pot. It seemed a foolish thing to do, because my children all had their own homes. However, the pot didn’t cost very much and it made me feel good, bringing back memories of times when my table was full. I never used it, but every time I opened the pantry door, there it was - my shiny security blanket. Somehow, the cooking pot made me feel as if I had a purpose. I wasn’t quite sure what the purpose was, other than it had something to do with my family.
Family life today is certainly different from what it was in the fifties and sixties. Families were drawn together on a regular basis. Almost every Sunday after church, my husband and I, along with four kids and a dog, would pile in the car and head for my parents home. They lived about an hour away. The drive passed quickly with the chatter or singing of the three voices in the back and the little one in the front.
The picturesque little town where they lived lay peacefully in a valley, and as we broke over the crest of the hill that sloped down into the town, one word always rose in my heart - home! When we walked into Mother’s bright, yellow kitchen, delicious smells would be coming from the bubbling pot on the stove. One Sunday, it might be chicken and dumplings and another, beef and noodles. It gave me a feeling of security; still under a mother’s care. My children grew up going ‘home’ to Grandpa and Grandma’s, where the cooking pot always held enough for whoever happened by at mealtime.
My father died many years ago, but Mother’s cooking pot still welcomed family and passersby. Then, when my mother went to be with the Lord the cooking pot faded into a memory. Things would never be the same again.
Time changes many things. I, like many other homemakers began to work outside the home. After my children were grown with families of their own, I wasn’t often home. All of us were very active in ministry and Sundays were some of our busiest days. My grandchildren didn’t know what it was like to go ‘home’ to Grandpa and Grandma’s on Sunday. They didn’t know what it was like to walk into the kitchen and be greeted by a cooking pot cheerily bubbling on the stove. What is it that makes the cooking of food so important to a family? Going back in history, some of great Bible stories portray important events that transpired around a cooking pot.
Isaac had two sons - Jacob and Esau. Jacob was a ‘con man’ from the beginning, while Esau was an outdoorsman; a mighty hunter. One day Esau came in from hunting and was starving. Jacob had a pot of stew cooking and sold his hungry brother a bowl of stew for his birthright. A birthright meant the inheritance of the father went to the eldest son. Esau cared nothing for his birthright, but Jacob wanted it and got it. (Gen. 25:29-34) On top of that, with help from his mother, Jacob deceived his aged and blind father into giving him the blessing reserved for the eldest son. (Gen 27:1-29)
When Moses led the Israelites through the desert, God sent them ‘manna’. The people gathered the manna everyday and cooked it. We read in Num. 11:7-8 (Amp. Bible), “The manna was like coriander seed and its appearance was like that of bdellium (perhaps a precious stone). The people went about and gathered it, and ground it in mills or beat it in mortars, and boiled it in pots, and made cakes of it; and it tasted like cakes baked with fresh oil.” God supplied manna to his people for forty years. They could not have survived without it. Can you imagine the number of cooking pots boiling away everyday, over the campfires of a million or more people camped in the wilderness?
We read in 2 Kings, 38-44, where Elisha went to Gilgal and there was a great famine in the land. He was meeting a group of prophets and had his servant put a large pot on the fire to cook food for all the prophets. The servant gathered wild herbs and gourds for the stew and served it. Apparently, what was cooked was poisonous, so Elisha put flour in the pot and it became good to eat. God gave them a miracle in a cooking pot.
We find biblical history being shaped in the cooking pots of the patriarchs of old. What security do we see in this? Esau was saved from starving. God made provision for the Israelites, his chosen people; Jehovah, Jireh. Elisha and the prophets experienced a miracle. If the Bible was written today, it would probably say that Jacob took Esau to McDonald’s when he was starving. Perhaps the wandering Israelites were fed by the Red Cross and surely Elisha and his group of prophets gathered at the local restaurant where bad food was served them. It doesn’t sound right, does it? Somehow, families or friends gathering in a public restaurant don’t give warm fuzzies.
Not long ago, we moved and while unpacking, I pulled out the shiny cooking pot - still new. It was then I made the decision to use it for making memories, as generations before me had. I invited my children and their families to begin coming ‘home’ one Sunday a month. They all thought it a great idea and so began another generation responding to the cooking pot. I rinsed off the dusty pot stored away in the pantry and began thinking of things I could cook to feed a lot of people. At first, it all went pretty well, but I found my new cooking pot was too thin and scorched some of the food. I also received a nasty burn from it one day.
Then a wonderful thing happened. My son-in-law, Dave, who is a chef, surprised me with a new stainless steel cooking pot. This is a very expensive pot, and the great thing about it, it cooks evenly, doesn’t burn food and the handles are not too hot to touch. This gift gave me a message I needed to hear. Without the words, my son-in-law was telling me, “I care about you and it matters what you do. I’m there for you and I like coming ‘home’.” I didn’t know he felt that way, although in the past he has been my encourager in difficult times. What it all boiled down to (not a pun), he showed me I still had a purpose. My family needed me!
There is something quite miraculous about this pot. God is in it! He adds the flavor of Love and Mercy, the Salt of the Gospel, Bread of Life, the Wine of the Spirit and a Sweet Savor to everything that is cooking. It brings our family closer together, heals wounds from the enemy and serves encouragement in times of trouble. It causes laughter and at other times dries up tears.
I have come to the conclusion that everyone should have a big cooking pot that draws family and friends together. As a matter of fact, I believe it’s almost scriptural. After all, Jesus said, “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them. (Matt. 18:20)
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