I really enjoy trying out new recipes. I follow the instructions to the dot. I make sure that I have all the ingredients lined up, precisely measure it out, and diligently follow the step by step instructions. Sometimes I even read the recipe and replay the video tutorial a few times to make sure I have not missed out anything. Occasionally, I pause to scan the story behind the recipe — the part most people scroll past. Somehow, those personal anecdotes are quite interesting and fascinating.
Usually, I persuade my artistically inclined daughter to take a couple of photographs of the plated dish, complete with all the extra garnishing and embellishments. I excitedly share the recipe and photographs with the other enthusiastic chefs in my circle and soon we are swapping pictures and ideas.
But once this recipe becomes familiar, everything changes. I start eyeballing quantities. I skim through the instructions and impatiently click on 'jump to recipe', if I need to refer to instructions. I confidently substitute ingredients based on what I have at hand, or whatever I feel like using. Without batting an eyelid, I skip a step or two, hasten the ‘simmer on slow fire’ or ‘stir continually’ caution.
I serve up my own version of what was once an 'authentic' dish. More often than not, the new creation tastes good, but it is definitely not the same as its original namesake.
And recently, I realised — this is exactly how my walk with God often goes.
Initially, my faith felt like that brand new recipe. I was hungry to learn and soak in everything His Word offered. I would diligently spend time in Scripture, rereading passages and searching for instruction and guidance. I would make the effort to carve out space for prayer, genuinely seeking His direction, fully aware of how much I needed Him.
But over time, familiarity crept in. It was not sudden, but I drifted subtly and slowly. Passion was replaced by procrastination. Routines give way to short cuts. I start 'eyeballing' my spiritual discipline. Skimming through my devotional reading. Praying while making my grocery list and figuring out if the fridge is stocked. I pray haphazard prayers while a million thoughts chase each other in my mind. Instead of the stillness, I’m spiralling between what I ought to do and what I need to do.
I was multi-tasking my devotion and trying to fit God into my schedule rather than centering my life around Him.
I was doing things that feel spiritual, that seem spiritual — but deep down, I knew they were my own hollow version of what once was a sincere pursuit of God. And though it seemed and even looked effective, I knew that it was a far cry from the authentic, the original. It was comfortable, not compelling. Functional, but not transformative. Convenient, but not communion. Efficient, but not intimate. It was close — but it wasn’t the same.
With all the resources that are so easily available to us, it is easy to choose productivity over presence. Podcasts, devotionals, Bible apps, YouTube sermons — they’re all wonderful tools, but they cannot substitute for personal time with God and for what He has for each of us on a profoundly personal level.
I have realised that when I trade my personal time with Him for a more efficient version, I’m left with a watered-down faith, which lacks depth and strength.
It’s like tweaking a recipe to the point where it only resembles the original dish. You recognise it, but it doesn’t have the same depth of flavour. The ingredients might be similar — but the heart of it is missing.
Yes, God hears our prayers whether we call to Him from the comfort of our cozy beds or if we talk to Him in the midst of a traffic jam. His Word can speak to us from a verse that we see scribbled on a wall or through a friend who shares something on WhatsApp.
God doesn’t demand a formula. He doesn’t compel me to carve out exactly 25 minutes in my schedule just for Him. Instead, He offers an invitation — to bask in His love, to revel in His Word, to steady my heart on His promises, to let His small, still voice guide my life choices.
But as I return to the basics — His Word, His presence, and a willing heart — I’m reminded that the richest, most lasting flavours in both faith and food come from patience, attentiveness, and love. I realise my soul cannot thrive on short cuts and substitutes. It hungers for what is nourishing and lasting.
And just like in the kitchen, where the best dishes come from those who take time to follow through every step, use the best ingredients and trust the process — our faith, too, deepens when we pause, listen and obey and go back to the real, with no substitutes and shortcuts .
May we rediscover the beauty of the original — rich, full, nourishing, and life changing.
Photo by micheile henderson on Unsplash
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Thank you for this reminder Anna. I love trying new recipes too and could relate to everything you have written. You have so beautifully related the outcome of a shoddy cooking practice to our half-hearted faith practice. Thank you encouraging me to give God 'best quality' time to enjoy His rich grace
Thank you Deborah!
It is. a stark reminder to all of us to get back to Him