Wisdom from the Mouths of Bakers

Last week as I was driving home from church the cooking show Milk Street Radio was playing on my local NPR station. A caller asked about a French bread he liked to bake and how to make it last longer since it would quickly grow stale. The caller said, “The pain de mie I make has a very low shelf life. What am I doing wrong?” The host Christopher Kimball’s answer struck me and I’m writing it down here not to forget it. He essentially said the caller wasn’t doing anything wrong, but was expecting this French bread to do something it was not designed to do. He was baking pain de mie the right way, but apparently if you’re baking pain de mie the right way you can’t expect it to last long. If what the man wanted was to bake a loaf of white bread with a higher shelf life, the solution wouldn’t be to adjust the recipe or his technique but to pick a different kind of white bread, one actually suited to that objective. (If you were wondering, the host recommended a Japanese milk bread.)

I’m not a baker or even much of a cook, but this answer struck me because it suggested a broad principle that would be true in many other areas of life. Sometimes the thing we are doing isn’t achieving the desired effect not because we are doing that thing wrong, or because there is anything wrong with that thing, but because we are expecting the thing to do what it isn’t designed to do. Instead we should use each thing according to its own capabilities and capacities, and recognize and appreciate the different ends each one can achieve. 

In other words, we need to respect the telos of each object, craft, and institution. Otherwise, we will be like the kid who is frustrated that his tricycle can’t fly; or the writer who struggles to capture a specific story, message, or feeling on the page because he is working within the wrong genre or form; or the newly-elected politician who can’t fulfill his campaign promises within a four-year term because deliberative democracy is necessarily slow. Tricycles are wonderful toys for toddlers, but make for terrible airplanes. Poetry can be a powerful form of communication, but it will serve well only those writers who understand how to tap into what it does best. Deliberative democracy can achieve many good things, but if someone wants to move fast and break things, maybe he should be the CEO of a tech startup instead of a politician.

We can also think about how this principle applies to relationships. Maybe that friendship, marriage, or church is actually doing fine—or as well as could be expected of fallen and finite people. Maybe you are already doing the best you can to be a good friend, spouse, or church member; maybe your friend, spouse, or fellow church member is doing likewise; maybe you aren’t failing them, and they aren’t failing you. Could your uneasiness or dissatisfaction instead stem from expecting these relationship to do for you what only God can do? Are you focused on what these relationships do not and cannot possibly give you instead of attending to and appreciating what they do?  

As Goes the Church

What do you believe is the most influential institution in the world? If given the formulation, “As goes the ____, so goes the world,” what would you put in the blank? Would you pick the Academy, the Market, the Media, or the State? Or would you pick the Church?

If you are a Christian, I hope you believe the Church is the most influential institution in the world. I hope you would say, “As goes the Church, so goes the world.” After all, it’s only the Church that is the people of God, that has the Word of God, and has the Spirit of God. It’s only the church that Jesus promised to build, and it’s the only institution He promised would prevail (Matthew 16:18). 

But if you are a Christian and are inclined to think the Academy, the Market, the Media, or the State is more influential than the Church, I would encourage you to ask yourself why. Is that way of thinking influenced more by the promises of God in Scripture, or by your perception of current events? Are your priorities driven more by faith or by fear? And I’m going to hazard to guess that this viewpoint may reflect your own sense of vocation, affect your concerns for what other individual Christians should be doing, and shape your vision of what the Church should look like.

If you think the Academy is the most influential, you are probably highly educated and see yourself as a scholar. You may think many more Christians should have advanced degrees, and that many more should be working in either secular or Christian primary and secondary schools. But not only do you want the Academy to be more Christian; it’s possible that you also, however subtly, desire for the Church to look more like the Academy. In the local church, you may gravitate toward fellow intellectuals and away from the people you see as simple or ignorant. You may expect pastors to have seminary degrees, large libraries, and sophisticated sermons.

If you think the Market is the most influential, you are probably smart with money and see yourself as a businessman. You may think many more Christians should be starting businesses, investing, or climbing the corporate ladder. But not only do you want the Market to be more Christian; it’s possible that you also, however subtly, desire for the Church to look more like the Market. In the local church, you may gravitate toward the wealthy or the financially striving and away from the people you see as poor or financially complacent. You may expect pastors to have an entrepreneurial spirit and be administratively gifted.

If you think the Media is the most influential, you are probably gifted in some art-form or medium and see yourself as a creative or a communicator. You may think many more Christians should be going into the film, music, and publishing industries and into journalism. But not only do you want the Media to be more Christian; it’s possible that you also, however subtly, desire for the Church to look more like the Media. In the local church, you may gravitate toward fellow creatives and away from the people you see as mere consumers. You may expect pastors to be artists, entertainers, or so-called “content-creators.”

If you think the State is the most influential, you are probably involved in politics (or just read the news a lot and have a lot of strong opinions) and see yourself as a civil servant or political reformer. You may think many more Christians should go into politics, get more involved at the grassroots level, or at least pay more attention to the news. But not only do you want the State to be more Christian; it’s possible that you also, however subtly, desire for the Church to look more like the State. In the local church, you may gravitate toward those who seem to have power and status in the world and away from those who seem powerless. You may expect pastors to be charismatic executives with an ambitious agenda for what the church can be doing outside its own four walls.

To be sure, right now it doesn’t seem like the Church is influential, at least not positively. It looks as if lately the Church has been better at scaring people away than drawing them in. And I’ll grant that it is a frail and weak thing, beset with sins and failings. But we ought to remember that God likes to use what seems foolish to shame the wise (1 Corinthians 1:27). We should look back to how Christians transformed the Western world two millennia ago: not by starting academies like Plato’s, or by raising capital, or by writing better epics than Homer or plays than Sophocles, or by getting into Caesar’s inner circle, but by forming churches where people heard the gospel preached and sought to live in the light of it together. And we ought to remember that when Jesus walked among us, while He would happily interact with scholars like Nicodemus and businessmen like Zacchaeus, He spent more time with the illiterate and the poor. Likewise, when Paul went on his missionary journeys, he could quote literature to philosophers and get an audience with governors, but getting them on his side was never his priority. 

Yes, go into the Academy or the Market or the Media or the State, if you have the gifting and opportunity for it, and if your motives are predominantly in the right place. But be careful that the perceived importance of your mission does not expand beyond proportion to become the mission, and that your way of contributing to the kingdom does not became the way to advance it. Jesus has His own means and methods—so much better and higher than ours—for accomplishing His purposes in the world, so let’s commit ourselves to them. However unlikely and unimpressive they appear, they will change the course of history.