Turning Points

The familiar scents of sugar, butter and oranges gently danced around my kitchen. My fourth batch of cranberry-orange muffins were almost ready to be taken out of the oven. Impatiently spying through the warm oven window, I saw the muffins’ golden-brown tops with bits of glistening, flaky salt and reddish-pink cranberries peeking through the puffed-up dome. It took a few tries to get the proportions and flavours right before this final batch. I had to learn to trust the recipe development process over the years, because how the ingredients, temperature and time interact with one another isn’t as easily determined or controlled as I think it may be. Much like the process of creating a new recipe, life can feel like a series of unexpected trials and choices. Between these phases are crossroads, turning points, that offer us the space to reroute, reimagine, reaffirm, and wrestle. And at these junctures, we may pause and wonder: Why is this happening? 

While waiting for my muffins to come out of the oven, I’m reminded of the times I’ve spent in these types of junctures, whether it’s between batches while developing new recipes or during challenging seasons in my life. The muffin batches seem trivial in comparison to seasons of disappointment, grief or spiritual wandering. Nonetheless, going through these times stirs up a hunger for something better, the kind of hunger that I imagine Ruth had experienced when I read her story in the Bible. A young Moabite widow living through a literal famine, Ruth was left without money, resources or power. She had to decide between leaving a familiar place she called home, or parting ways with her mother-in-law Naomi, whom she had grown to love. This was a difficult decision that didn’t get easier with Naomi’s discouragement. 

“Return home, my daughters. Why would you come with me? Am I going to have more sons, who could become your husbands?” (Ruth 1:11 NIV)

Sometimes the comfort of something familiar conspires with the fears and anxieties that come with exploring the possibilities of something foreign. How daunting it may have felt to realize that she may have to start over at this stage of her life, and in a land she has never known. And yet, Ruth was determined to join Naomi and set out on the arduous journey to Bethlehem.

“Don’t urge me to leave you or turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.” (Ruth 1:16 NIV)

Unlike Ruth, we have the luxury of knowing how her story progresses after this pivotal moment. It’s like how we can watch muffins bake from a wet batter to a solid form, and see the tops gradually change from yellow to golden brown. But life’s turning points and transitions aren’t as easily perceived as that, especially not in the moment. So where did the strength in her conviction come from? How did she find the courage to keep going? The mystery in Ruth’s story is that in the rest of the chapter and throughout the book, the author doesn’t elaborate on where or how she came to accept the God of Israel. Even so, we can gather that Ruth heard stories of God during her marriage to Naomi’s son and inclusion into his Israelite family.

Along the way, she began to grow in her relationship with God and later remembered all that he had done for his people. Ruth’s hunger was satisfied by the hope of wholeheartedly trusting God’s unwavering character and love towards his people. It’s the same love that led God’s people through the wilderness generations before, despite their (and our) fickle tendencies. Hope isn’t proportional to a perceived outcome, and it is not tied to knowing the details of the steps that lead to a happy ending. By remembering the truth of God’s character, we can also be led through the turning points and transitions in our stories today by trusting that same God.

I recognize that hearing this truth doesn’t mean that we’ve suddenly changed our ways. Just like learning how to create new recipes took longer than my stubborn self wanted, it took me many seasons of gradual shifting before the posture of my mind and heart was to cling to this truth. My wrestling doesn’t make this any less true, because how God walks with each of us may look different. There’s no single recipe for how our stories are created.

As I examined my cranberry-orange muffins cooling, I recalled the tests and iterations between different gluten-free flour combinations, brown butter vs. oil, fresh vs. frozen cranberries, and adding orange marmalade. Each batch turned out different from the last, but each batch also brought me closer to the final version. Similarly, some seasons may be challenging while others triumphant, but the entire journey invites us to continuously develop a relationship with God.

Text: Kaye Ann Caronongan
Art: Shilpa Shah