Recently, I went down a rabbit hole... and as my family can attest, I rarely come back out. Once something captures my curiosity, it's only a matter of time before my kitchen, my garage, or my medicine cabinet is completely transformed.
This month's adventure just happened to involve ancient grains, sourdough... and one spectacularly ugly loaf of bread.
It all started when I began learning about modern wheat and how differently it is grown and processed today compared to the grain our grandparents baked with. The more I learned, the more fascinated I became. Somewhere along the way, I realized that the bread we read about throughout Scripture wasn't made from the highly refined white flour lining our grocery store shelves today. It was made from whole grains, freshly milled into flour just before baking. In fact, some of the ancient grains that have been cultivated for thousands of years, like einkorn, emmer, and khorasan, are still available today... and now occupy a shelf in my pantry.
If you know me at all, you already know what happened next. That discovery sent me on a mission.
Now I buy regeneratively grown grains from a family farm, Grand Teton Ancient Grains, and mill them myself in my kitchen, just like the Little Red Hen. Instead of packaged yeast, I use a bubbly sourdough starter named Clint Yeastwood. (Yes, my sourdough starter has a name. Feel free to judge... but, as Clint would say, "Go ahead... make my dough.")
Some people collect coins. Others collect baseball cards. Me? Apparently, I collect ancient grains.
There is something so satisfying about taking tiny kernels that look almost unchanged from biblical times, grinding them into fresh flour, adding water, salt, and a living sourdough culture, then watching them become bread. Throughout Scripture, bread was never just food. It represented God's daily provision, fellowship around the table, and ultimately pointed to the One who would call Himself the Bread of Life.
At the time, I had no idea my next loaf would teach me one of the sweetest lessons about Him.
Every family gathering has become my own little test kitchen. If it can be baked, my family has been my unsuspecting but eager taste testers.
Since I try to avoid artificial ingredients whenever possible, I started experimenting with natural colors too. For Memorial Day, I attempted a braided red, white, and blue loaf using homemade blueberry and strawberry syrup reductions. It tasted wonderful, but the colors lacked the bright patriotic pop I was hoping for. My beautiful red, white, and blue vision somehow turned into... fifty shades of brown.
For Independence Day, I was determined to redeem myself, so I ordered butterfly pea flower powder for blue and beetroot powder for red. This time, I wasn't just making bread, I was making an American flag.
The colors were beautiful. The bread was... not.
If a patriotic sourdough loaf and a Squishmallow had a baby... this would've been it.
It was U. G. L. Y., and it ain't got no alibi.
As I packed up for my sister's pool party, I seriously considered tossing it out for her chickens as soon as I arrived. Instead, I reluctantly uncovered it on the counter. To my surprise, every single person smiled. "Wow! That's awesome!" Not one joke, or sarcastic comment, not even a Southern, "well... bless your heart."
They couldn't wait to slice it and eat it! Standing there looking at my ridiculously puffy, lopsided, ugly loaf, I realized something beautiful. The people who truly love us don't spend their time looking for flaws. They see our excitement, they celebrate our effort, they delight in us far more than they care about our performance.
And I couldn't help but wonder... maybe that's just a tiny glimpse of the heart of Jesus. He sees every flaw, every crack, every place where we feel we didn't quite turn out the way we'd hoped... and He loves us anyway. The Bread of Life doesn't love us because we're perfectly shaped, perfectly risen, or because we've somehow managed to get all the stripes in our lives straight.
He already knows every flaw, every crack, every failure, every over-proofed place in our lives.
Nothing surprises Him.
Yet instead of rejecting us, He invites us.
Instead of ridiculing us, He redeems us.
Instead of tossing us away, He patiently continues the work He began in us.
Then I remembered Jesus' words in John 6:35:
"I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty."
The irony wasn't lost on me.
The ugliest loaf I've ever baked ended up teaching me one of the most beautiful lessons of all.
Grace doesn't pretend we're perfect.
Love doesn't require perfection.
Maybe we're all a little like that loaf... a bit lopsided, a little over-proofed, and far from perfect. Yet the Bread of Life never throws away imperfect loaves. He delights in His children and patiently continues shaping us into exactly who He created us to be.
For the record...
The ugly bread was absolutely delicious!
With much love, a little perspective... and always something to cast your line toward,
Katie ~~
"Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men."
Matthew 4:19