It was one of those rare text messages every grandmother wants to read. “Could I come over to your house tomorrow after school? I’d like your help making macaroons so I can take them to the nursing home.”
In all honesty, it wasn’t that Montana wanted to bless the residents of a care facility that made me smile. It was that she wanted to have a baking experience with me! Mo would bring all of the ingredients.
The recipe was from a YouTube video of a teenager who promised this to be a “seriously simple” baking experience. What could possibly go wrong? (Spare me your thoughts.) We placed the laptop on my countertop and watched a young, hyper teen walk us through this “seriously simple” happening.
She listed all of the ingredients. Check. Mo had them all. We would make no mistakes. We knew that this was no cakewalk in the park, so every step was checked not once, but four times. Soon, puffy, blue macaroon shells would emerge from the oven, we would add the calorie-loaded cream filling, and nursing home residents would be blessed. There would be no chance for error.
Except, there was, even though Mo and I had no idea where we went awry. Our puffy, blue macaroons emerged from the oven as a flat, brown crust that lined the entire base of the cookie sheet and could not be scraped off. How was this possible? How could light blue turn to dark brown? How could puffy turn to flat? How could beautiful turn to ugly? My granddaughter and I revisited the video. Over and over and over again. We had done precisely what was required. So, where had the mistake occurred?
Apparently, Hyper Teen had omitted an important step (or two). How had she not run through her own video before she posted it for dummies like us who did not have the common sense to see something was amiss?
Like, where was the blue? Or the ingredient to create puffiness? Mo and I simply trusted that we had all the information we needed.
How could we place our faith in someone without checking credentials? There is a story in the Bible that addresses something similar. Acts 18:24-28 introduces us to a Jew named Apollos, a bright man who spoke boldly in the Temple about Scripture and had been “instructed in the way of the Lord…though he knew only the baptism of John.”
In other words, he had some of the facts but not all.
Paul’s husband-and-wife disciple team, Aquila and Priscilla, heard Apollos speak, realized he still had much to learn, invited him to their home and explained the truth of Jesus’ death and resurrection. The zealous orator had omitted important details that made Jesus different from every other prophet.
The story has a great ending: “…he (Apollos) vigorously refuted his Jewish opponents in public debate, proving from the Scriptures that Jesus was the Messiah.”
We all need to place our trust in one who has proven trustworthy…even when it’s only the success of blue macaroons that lies in the balance.