Popcorn and bronze

Last summer/fall while I was unemployed, a friend blessed me by cleaning out her pantry and giving me its contents. One of the free-food items was a container of popcorn. Since I don't have a popcorn popper, I use a saucepan and a glass lid. I pop 1/4 cup of kernels with about 1 1/2 tablespoons of oil (give or take), which yields about three servings or so. I've enjoyed this snack so much that I've been making it on a regular basis and have kept buying popcorn kernels at the grocery store. (I just add salt, no butter, and it's cheaper than microwave popcorn.)

 

Watching popcorn pop is a mesmerizing activity. The kernels sit there for a few minutes in the oil, then they start to sizzle, and then they finally begin to pop. (I've attached a short video of what this looks like.) After about a minute of popping, voilà. All that preparation and waiting for a few seconds of glory. But the kernels need to spend some time soaking in the hot oil first.

Yes, the popcorn-popping process particularly reminds me of trials.

I've noticed that many trials often begin gradually, with a doom cloud floating over your head. (However, some trials begin quite suddenly and, voilà, your life is never the same again.) Say, for example, that you know that you could lose your job. The CEO has announced that some layoffs are inevitable, the accountants are running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and morale is swirling around like a nasty cesspool. You're waiting... waiting... waiting... expectant and ready for anything, but you're not exactly sure what is going to happen or when it will happen. Then suddenly, POP! The axe has fallen, and you're jobless. There's no turning back to the way things were. Now everyone around you can see what you're made of, because what's inside you has suddenly popped on the outside for everyone to enjoy. And it's nice and salty.

That's a silly example of something serious that happens to people every day (myself included), but I still think it's a fascinating concept. Something hard gets placed in a situation where it's forced to respond, and voilà, it becomes soft enough to enjoy.

There's no shame in letting people see your heart during a trial, whether you've worked through your issues or not. 

As I've mentioned before, I've felt like God has said that my word for 2018 is "brazen." Yes, I've taken that to mean that I'm going to be more fearless and brash than I've ever been before (so I've been watching myself, and I've abstained from acting out on all sorts of outlandish thoughts that sail through my head sometimes). And yes, I've taken that to mean that I'm going to get to be strong this year (because brass, where we get the word "brazen," is a strong material). I've also obsessed a little bit about brass versus bronze (from what I understand, brass is more malleable; bronze is stronger and has more additives).

But God has shown me that it's all of the above. And He's also had to point out the sentimental obvious: What do you do when you want to remember something extremely special? You have it bronzed.

He's shown me that this year -- the year of shaping, the year of the "suddenly" -- has basically been My Life In Review. Another phrase He keeps using is My Life Before My Eyes. That latter one concerned me for a little bit. Um, Lord, am I dying? No, but wouldn't my tiny little lifespan of 80 years or so only be like a year, or a fraction of a year, on God's timeline? So, 2018 has been a strange, unique series of events that keeps reminding me of the life I've led so far.

I guess 2018 is like the Greatest Hits album of my life. So far, I've written short stories, sold items on eBay, redefined friendships, led groups of people at church events, agonized on how to pay bills, worked at a job that I no longer love, worked through some loneliness issues, burned and organized music CDs, etc.

I even became depressed for a week or two and came eerily close to suffering an emotional breakdown. The way I broke out of it was by saying out loud, "Screw it. I'm going to enjoy my life, no matter what it looks like."

"My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing." (James 1:2-4)

Today, I watched some YouTube videos and saw people creating bronze items from scratch. It's a much longer, more dangerous-looking process than I thought it would be. A mold must be created in the shape of the item that you wish to create. This involves packing sand into the mold so that it forms around the model that you wish to copy. Then a crucible needs to heat a metal, such as copper, to 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit and melt it down. I believe several batches of copper are melted into the mixture before another metal, such as tin, is added. Then the molten metal mixture is poured into the mold. After it forms, the sand is brushed off and the new creation is polished.

The entire process has several steps that require a bit of time to complete. And the metalworker really needs to know what they're doing, or they could get hurt. During one of the videos that I was watching, a guy was creating a bronze axe and accidentally sliced his leg open during the polishing process. But he's OK, and he made a very strong piece of equipment that will probably last for years to come.

I was also fascinated at how crucibles aren't really permanent. After being heated to extremely hot temperatures and cooled, and the process is repeated many times, the crucible will wear out, maybe crack, and more than likely be replaced.

I guess maybe that's why God takes us through more than one trial during our lifetime: The vehicles God uses to shape us into the image of His Son might not be able to take all those fires. 

But we can take them. Otherwise, He wouldn't be putting us through them.

For this particular season that I'm in, I feel like God has been telling me to not rush it. During a time when I was thinking about walking away, He said, "Stay in the kitchen." In other words, it's hot during this meal preparation, but it's worth pushing through and waiting for the process to end.

So, God is having my life bronzed, like an adorable little pair of toddler shoes on a proud Papa's fireplace mantel.

He keeps showing me that this season of intense preparation -- where my heart is placed in fiery situations all over again, left to melt there for a while, and additional ingredients are added, only to await the molding and polishing process -- is the prerequisite for something very special. Something is coming, but I need to let the Master do His work. He's fashioning His little weapon for a very specific purpose, and He knows exactly what He's doing. He's a Pro.

And the waiting... waiting... waiting... POP! will all be worth it.