Nourishing hearts as faithfully as we nourish our tables.
Welcome to Season & Savor Sunday, because feeding our bodies is not enough.
Last week was kindness, and I’m still thinking about Catherine and those two bags of groceries in the rain.
This week it’s goodness. And I’ll be honest, when I sat down to write this one, my first thought was, wait, isn’t goodness just kindness with a different name?
It’s not. It took some digging (and a little conviction) to figure out why.
“But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!”
Galatians 5:22-23 (NLT)
What Paul Means by Goodness
The Greek word Paul uses here is agathōsynē (ag-ath-o-SOO-nay). It only shows up four times in the whole New Testament.
Most of the time it simply means goodness. But when Greek scholar Bill Mounce translates Galatians 5:22, he picks a different word: generosity. (You can see it for yourself in his online Greek dictionary.)
I loved that. Generosity. It also made me squirm a little, and here’s why.
The Cookie Police
When my boys were about five or six, our house was full of kids. I loved having something ready when their friends came over. Cookies, muffins, whatever I’d baked that week.
And then I’d stand over the plate and make sure everybody took one. Just one.
One afternoon, one of the little guys reached for a second cookie, and I barked, “That’s enough now!” Or maybe it was “Did you ask?” I honestly don’t remember which. I just remember looking at that sweet face. He wasn’t trying to eat the whole plate. He just wanted another cookie!
And I thought, what on earth am I doing?
It wasn’t about money. We could afford cookies. It was control, plain and simple, and if I’m really honest, a stingy streak I didn’t want to admit I had.
The Great Lindt Ball Stash
It wasn’t just the cookie plate, either.
In our house, Lindt truffles have always been called Lindt balls. The boys named them that years ago, and yes, you read that right. It stuck.
Brad loves them, and stopping at one isn’t exactly his strong suit. So I hid them. I told myself I was helping him. I was also saving more for me, let’s be real.
I had to keep changing my hiding spots, because he always found them.
Then one day it hit me. He’s a grown man! He gets to decide what he eats and when. And if he goes through the whole bag of Lindt balls in one weekend? That’s fine. His metabolism is a whole lot better than mine anyway.
The Courtesy Twins
Here’s what helped me sort it all out. I landed on a message by Chuck Swindoll from his Fruit of the Spirit series. He calls kindness and goodness the “courtesy twins.”
That made me laugh, because that’s exactly where I got stuck. They look so much alike; it’s easy to mix them up.
Last week we saw that kindness, chrēstotēs, is the useful twin. It sees a need and meets it. Goodness, agathōsynē, is the generous one. It hands you more than you asked for.
Swindoll also tells about a famous experiment with baby monkeys. Given the choice, they clung to a soft terry cloth “mother” instead of a cold wire mesh one, even when the wire mesh mother was the one with the milk.
His challenge? Be a terry cloth Christian. Jesus was. No wonder sinners kept showing up at His table.
Guess which mother I was at the cookie plate? Ugh. The cold metal one.
So here’s where I landed. Kindness might say “that’s enough now” with a sweet smile. Goodness lets you have another cookie. Of course, this is super simplified, but that’s how my brain works!
A Little at a Time
I’d love to tell you I changed overnight, but I didn’t. I caught myself, then caught myself again, and prayed about it more times than I can count. Slowly, it got easier to relax. To set things out. To give things away.
I think goodness grows that way. A little at a time, with practice. Kind of like a rock-hard avocado. No matter how long you stand there staring, you can’t make it ripen.
Lattes and Shortbread
These days, one of my favorite little rituals happens every couple of weeks, when the two wonderful women who help us clean come over. They work so hard, and they’re just plain kind and lovely women. We adore them.
A few years ago I started making them each a latte when they get here, and putting out a treat. If I’ve baked, great. If not, I keep a stash of Walker’s shortbread in the pantry just for them, because they love it. Sometimes I tuck in a little extra tip, just because.
Believe me, I’m not bragging. The woman who counted cookies in front of a six-year-old is the same one steaming milk for lattes now. Only God could pull that off, and He’s been very patient about it.
Time, Given Away
If you read my Fresh Fridays email, you know Brad and I spent last weekend with our dear friends Pat and Sarah near Westcliffe. Sarah fed us the most delicious ribs and mashed sweet potatoes, and I didn’t cook a thing.
But what stuck with me most was Pat. For more than 20 years, he’s led a ministry called The Heritage Work, right in his own neighborhood. He leads four weekly groups and mentors more people one-on-one than I can count. Brad is one of them.
Pat gives his time the way I’m learning to give cookies. Freely, week after week, for over 20 years.
Sitting by their fireplace, we talked about what it means to be Jesus to people. I think most days it looks pretty ordinary. A plate of something good on the counter, and nobody standing guard. A hot latte and some store-bought cookies.
Pressed Down, Running Over
Jesus used a picture any baker understands.
“Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full—pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap. The amount you give will determine the amount you get back.”
Luke 6:38 (NLT)
That’s how God gives to us. I’m still learning to give that way. Some days I still fight my self-centered urges.
So here’s my question for you this week. Where are you still counting cookies? Or hiding chocolates?
Lord, thank You for never counting cookies with me, or hiding the chocolates. You give, and You keep on giving, pressed down and running over. Forgive me for the times I’ve held on too tight, to my stuff, my time, my need to control the plate. Remove the “me” in me. Grow Your goodness in me, a little at a time. Make me quick to set out the whole plate. In Jesus’ name, amen.
~ With grace at the table, and beyond
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