Edith Schaeffer’s book, A Way of Seeing (published in 1977 by Fleming Revell Company of Tappan, New Jersey) is a compilation of articles written originally for "Christianity Today" magazine. The "Chapter" (or essay) titled "Sponge Cake or Noodles?" was sent by me a couple of years or so ago to other lists that some of you may have been on, so you may have read it previously. But this is an essay that I like to be reminded of, and hope those of you who have read this before will feel the same.

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"I’ve really blown it now! I’m sorry--but what good is being sorry when it is impossible to pick up the pieces? It is impossible to go back and live that time over again. I wish I could, but time can’t be wiped out. The things I’ve done can’t be undone; the things I’ve said can’t be unsaid; the effect I’ve had on history has already taken place. I feel like a gluey mess that ought to be tossed in the garbage pail. Life is just impossible."

Have you ever said anything like that? Have you ever felt an overwhelming wave of finality as regrets washed over you, threatening to drag you out into a sea of hopelessness? Such final feelings of worthlessness can turn into egotistical introspection for the Christian, failing to remember that the One who made the universe out of nothing is not limited and does not look at any human being--broken as that one may be--and see a "blank" or a hopeless mess ready for the trash pile. God--the Creator of all things out of nothing--is a God of diversity and without limit in His creative ideas. He can take any one of His children in the midst of history and at that point create an amazing work of art with what looks like "the end." The end can become a surprise beginning, when placed in the hands of an expert.

Listen carefully to this true story. Some years ago, a lovely girl, Jane, was helping to prepare food for the weekend meals at Chalet les Melezes [at L’Abri in Switzerland]. As we looked over the menus together, I wrote out my favorite sponge-cake recipe for her to make, while I rushed around to do other things. After a time a puzzled-looking Jane came to show me a very strange mixture, yellow, sticky, gluey. "Is this what it’s supposed to look like? Shall I put it into the pan now?"

"Oh no," I said in a rather horrified tone. "Please don’t. It’s not right at all. You have left something out, I’m sure."

"No, I followed your instructions perfectly. I know I did."

"Here, let’s look at the book, you must have forgotten something."

So we read and checked each item--once, twice, three times.

"But I’m sure it’s all in order. I mixed it just as you said. The white of egg was beaten light, but it just disappeared into the mixture and it all got heavy and sticky. Oh, dear; what’s wrong?" she wailed.

Once more we slowly read the book’s directions--and suddenly she remembered. "I know now. I didn’t put any sugar in it. Shall I throw the mess out? Shall I start with new stuff?"

"No, wait; we can’t afford that," I said hastily, putting out my hand to take the bowl, protect the "mess," and stir it thoughtfully. "Let me think--egg, salt, baking powder, flour, water. What can I do with that?" Silence and patience for a moment. "Wait while I think." Suddenly I exclaimed with excitement, "I know, I know. Noodles! I can turn it into noodles."

While Jane watched in wonder, I added flour, first a little, then a little more, mixing, kneading first in the bowl, then turning it out on a floured board. When the mixture would take no more flour, I got out the rolling pin and rolled it out vigorously. Thinner and thinner the pale-yellow stiff mixture spread out on the board until it was almost paper thin. "Now, " I exclaimed in satisfaction, "we’ll put some heavy weights--those cans will do--on each of the four corners, and let it dry awhile." After the right period of time I took scissors and, folding the dry paperlike mixture, cut it in fine thin strips--which rapidly piled up in lovely heaps to be tossed with our fingers so they could separate and dry. There--not a sponge cake, but noodles--perfectly beautiful, fresh, wonderful homemade noodles. No, not for dessert, not to put under the strawberries, but to make a marvelous chicken noodle soup. With broth made from boiling leftover chicken bones for hours and hours--with some chicken bouillon added, some finely chopped onion and celery added with the homemade noodles and a dash of soy sauce--steaming bowls of soup were placed before thirty famished people. "What fantastic chicken noodle soup!" -- "I never tasted such good noodles. May I have the recipe?"

I smiled at Jane across the table. "Not sponge cake, but marvelous noodles which are just as important," I remarked. "Don’t ever forget this, Jane."

Don’t ever forget what? Don’t ever forget that if you can’t be a "sponge cake" because of having spoiled something which you can’t go back and do over, the Lord can make you into marvelous "noodles."

The Bible gives us a similar illustration to emphasize the wonder of what God can do for us as we put ourselves into His hands, ... [to] do with us what [only] He is able to do. In Jeremiah 18, we have the vivid picture of a potter taking a pot or a vase or a pitcher he had made and, seeing that it had been marred by something, molding it over again into something else, " . . . as seemed good to the potter to make it."

"Then the word of the Lord came to me saying, O house of Israel, cannot I do with you as this potter? saith the Lord. Behold, as the clay is in the potter’s hand, so are ye in mine hand, O house of Israel." (Jeremiah 18:5, 6)

The Lord is able to do what He will with His children, . . . "Ye have not, because ye ask not," is something to be thought of in this connection. . . . it is necessary to turn to the Father when a "mess" has been made. To ask forgiveness? Yes, but also to ask, "Please take me and make me into what You would have me be, now, at this point of history, on the basis of what I cannot be, make me into what you now want me to be."

Listen to comforting words: "Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert" (Isaiah 43:18, 19).

What wilderness have you been wandering in recently? What dry and dusty desert has been your walking place? What kind of a gluey mess in your life has replaced the fluffy sponge-cake mixture? Are you about ready to give up and say, "What’s the use...?". There must be a literal, specific, definite coming (as Jane came to me) and a turning over of the "bowl of your life," asking for fresh direction, acknowledging you have missed the way, turned aside, plowed on stubbornly in the desert. "Please--I’m sorry. Do a new thing. Make a way; let rivers gush in the dry spot of right now. Make me into the noodles of your choice!"

And what if the gluey mess is not just one life, but a relationship--one and one--or a group that is ready to fly apart--or a church where things are dry, dusty, or sticky and gluey? The two people or the group or the church ought to come together to the One who can take the whole "bowl," the whole situation, and add the needed ingredients--whatever that might be--to blend together the ones who are bowing, asking, and seeking His help realistically after making a mess. He is completely capable of making a whole churchful of "noodles," to be marvelously appreciated by the surrounding community who need to be fed!

"And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places: thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations; and thou shalt be called, "The repairer of the breach, The restorer of paths to dwell in ... Then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord .... (Isaiah 58:12, 14)

What if Jane had secretly thrown the mess away without asking? Be careful to own up to your need of help. Sponge Cake? Or noodles? Or the garbage can?