Forty Days of Baking Bread in the Wilderness of my Senses

Baking and writing my way into what I don't know

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“By the sweat of your brow you shall eat bread, until you return to the ground, from which you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” - Genesis 3:19

Hello friends,

Have you ever been in such a hurry while eating, you didn’t taste anything at all?

Have you ever been in such a hurry getting from one place to another, you didn’t see anything at all?

Have you ever been so consumed with your own thoughts while someone else was speaking, you didn’t hear a word they said?

Have you ever smelled the scent of a perfume or cologne, soap, or wet heat evaporating from the hot pavement after a downpour? And it transported you back in time?

We all know what it’s like to crawl into bed with our favorite sheets, and we all know what it’s like to want to crawl out of our skin by the touch of something unwanted.

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With Lent beginning, I’ve been discerning with God what He might be inviting me to for the next forty days.

It finally came.

Well, it came a month ago, and I only recently said yes to it yesterday. These things have a way of marinating.

At the beginning of February, my husband and I, along with some friends and a couple thousand other souls, packed into the Keller Auditorium in downtown Portland for a two day conference on the Holy Spirit. Was it uncomfortable? Yes. Was there too much production for my liking? Yes. Did N.T. Wright make me cry and take notes furiously? Of course. The Spirit of God oozes out of his speech at such a fast clip, I am left by the end to let none other than the rushing Spirit itself wash over me.

Did Tim Mackie and Tyler Stanton seem genuine? Endearingly so. Did Irish spiritual director and pastor, Gemma Ryan close us out by finally talking about how the Spirit meets us in our darkness? Absolutely.

That’s when it arrived. Like a punch to the gut, towards the end of her (beautifully Ignatian) talk, she said this, “I feel that some of you need to know this: in order to walk with the power of God, you must first sit in His comfort.” It was a crucible moment.

Over the past month, I’ve sat in prayer and asked God, “how am I suppose to sit in your comfort?” I am very used to providing my own comfort, thank you very much. In which He replied, “I will teach you how to receive comfort from Me in your weakest points. This will enliven you to walk in My power, sitting with others in their pain, offering My comfort.”

Ah, my weakest points. Jesus wants us to do it together.

Ignatian Rule #14 of Discernment, First Set

“Each of us as human beings have strengths and weaknesses in the spiritual and moral life. While all of us are tempted, each of us is vulnerable in unique ways since we have unique weaknesses. The enemy of our human nature is a student of our strengths and weaknesses. He knows us well, and where he finds us weakest and most vulnerable to temptation, there he attacks us and seeks to win us over.”

In others words: Satan was a student of our (insert personality test here) long before we were.

But, thanks to things like the Enneagram and Meyers Briggs, I’ve become far more self aware of where my weak points are.

Consider these helpful diagrams using the Meyers Briggs tool from M. Robert Mulholland Jr.’s book, Invitation to a Journey: A Roadmap for Spiritual Formation:

Table 1. Finding Your Spiritual Path. (“Note: These words are meant to suggest, not to define or to limit understand.”)

Table 2. Following Your Spiritual Path. (“Note: Our aim is a balanced, centered spirituality. These words are meant to facilitate understanding, not to stifle individuality.”)

I first came across these four or five years ago. My mentor and I talked through them, and I became quickly aware of my “shadow side.” Or, the side of us that need to be brought into the light for integration and wholeness. The side of us that we avoid, so it manifests itself in deformed ways.

The ESTP. That’s my shadow side. ( I am an INFJ). I can hardly type out the letters, it feels so foreign. To be clear, I’m drawn to people who are extroverted, healthy in their senses, complex in their thinking and so spontaneous they’re hard to say no to. ( I love my enneagram 7 friends :) I’m drawn to them because I need more of who they are in my life.

So, what do I, as an INFJ need for wholeness? Action or participation, service or embodiment (incarnation!), knowledge, and spontaneity. In other words, the opposite of comfort.

A proposal

One weak point in my life is my sensing part. Even as I write this, I cringe. You know you need to grow in health in an area when you cringe every time you see it. In the past, I’ve rolled my eyes at all the embodiment talk. It sounded silly. Frivolous. Unnecessary. If you look at the first diagram, under the “N (Intuitive)” line, you’ll see all of the things I’m really good at. Maybe you are too. (I could talk about Mystical Union all day). The Sensing line? Not so much. The invitation for wholeness goes both ways.

I’ve had to admit to myself that it is necessary. It’s a point of pride and avoidance for me to say I could keep my nose in books and God all day, talking theory and no practice, not using my body for the good of myself and my community. After all, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

As it’s been said before, write what you don’t know. Write your way into knowing it, breathing it, living it. Until you wake up one morning, and you’ve become what you’ve practiced.

So, dear Reader, over the next six weeks of Lent, I’m committing to saying no to two things that take me out of my senses and the present moment (Instagram and buying from Amazon), and saying yes to the practice of making bread. With the help of

Kendall Vanderslice

and her book, Bake & Pray: Liturgies & Recipes for Baking Bread as a Spiritual Practice, I’ll be journaling through my experience of her six lessons while baking bread. (Think: Julie & Julia. Lot’s of mess-ups and breakdowns, but maybe some hope, grit and humor in it all?)

As Kendall writes in her introduction:

“The process (of baking bread) draws us into the presence of God and invites us to know God in a new way. This doesn’t require any special tools or tricks beyond what’s needed to make an ordinary loaf of bread.

It simply requires us to dwell in the presence of God.

For me, baking is a grounding practice in times when God’s whispers are too quiet for me to hear. It is a calming practice when my anxiety threatens to overwhelm me and keeps me from waiting on God. It is a practice that allows me to grieve, celebrate, lament, laugh, and work through the whole host of competing emotions I can feel at any given time. And it continually reminds me of my place in a faith tradition that stretches through history and around the world.”

This is me saying, OK fine, God. I’ll trust you. I’ll trust that what You’ve given me here and now is enough. I’ll trust you in my senses. Recently they’ve been so spread thin, you could light a match and they’d burn over a thousand acres.

For instance, I wrote this the other day before making dinner:

I hear Pope Francis is in critical condition.

If anything about Conclave is true,

We desire to be whole without premonition.

Sure, I'm glued to shows like Severance.

Exposing our vast loneliness

Under the isolated weight of convenience.

I've read at least twenty headlines today

And they all have nothing and everything to do

With each other.

How will we bear it?

Spread so thin like a berry meant to be eaten whole.

Savored, rolled around on the tongue.

Instead all we get is tightness in our lungs.

Maybe the Pope will make it to Ash Wednesday,

when we're all on our knees in critical condition.

This Lent, I want to walk with the Word who become flesh in the wilderness. I want Him to teach me in my weakness what is mine to do, and what is mine to release. I want to find where the crux of contemplative and action meet for me. Time and time again, we see in the Scriptures that in the hands of God, what is small and weak becomes abundant and powerful.

What you can expect

You’re invited to come along with me as I bake and journal over these next six weeks. At the end of each week, I’ll send out a short essay, sharing with you my experience.

Here are the lessons Kendall has set up for us:

Weeks:

1. On Mixing, Flour, and Transformation (3/9 - 3/15)

2. On Temperature and Control (3/16 - 3/22)

3. On Stretching and Folding (3/23 - 3/29)

4. On Timing and Rest (3/30 - 4/5)

5. On Shaping (4/6 - 4/12)

6. On Death and New Life (4/13 - 4/19)

Invitation #1

Read along with me, and notice things that come up in you while you read about my experience, and share them in the comments.

Invitation #2

Bake along with me! Some of you are well-established bakers. (You know who you are). You could choose to use Kendall’s book, or you might already have your favorite bread recipe. What would it look like to focus on each weekly theme as you bake? I’d invite you as well to share what you notice in the comments.

A prayer from Kendall to center ourselves for week one:

“God of transformation,

I want to put my trust in you.

I want to rest and believe that you

are at work along the way.

Let this bread in my hands

serve as a constant reminder

that you renew me day by day.

Though doubts may come

and hopes may crumble,

your faithfulness remains the same.

Amen.

See you after week one,

Janell