The kids and I have been watching Great British Bake-off together, the season with Richard and Nancy and Martha and Chetna and Luis. The seasons are numbered weirdly in the Amazon menu, but when we first encountered GBBO this was season 5, the one that aired in the UK in 2014. (It's the best season.)
We watched the final tonight, and I was a little embarrassed when it made me cry. But you know, there are a bunch of reasons it made me cry, and the biggest one is that it made me think about what heaven might be like.
My favorite thing about season 5 is the mix of bakers. I love their camaraderie; I love the way they treat each other. It's easy to imagine a version of the show with cutthroat competition, but instead they help each other out where they can. The fourth-place baker, the last person to leave the show before the final, jumps up and and down when the winner is announced. One of the runners-up says with obvious sincerity that the right person won. I wouldn't normally think of GBBO as a font of enduring truth but this is a true fact: hard things are easier and more joyful when we do them in community.
I think that heaven will be full of people who have been cheering us on from afar, people who wanted to see us victorious, people who are delighted that we have fought the good fight and finished the race. I got a little teary when the competitors' family members were talking about them, because they spoke with such love and pride. I think that the saints who welcome us into heaven will know how much we have labored to complete the tasks set before us, and what it has cost us to persevere.
I think that one element of becoming the best versions of ourselves, the versions God made us to be, is throwing ourselves into hard things that bring us joy. I am thinking about the way that the bakers wove their own stories into the things they made, to present something that not only showcased their technical skill but also showed us something about who they were and where they had come from. I believe that when God asks us to do hard things for our sanctification, he delights when we do them in a way that is distinctively ours.
I am still thinking about those three bakers -- the way they laid down their spatulas and piping bags for the last time, their hard work behind them, and stepped out of the tent into beautiful summer sunshine on those lovely grounds. I am thinking about the feast they shared with their families, and their reunions with the departed bakers, because of course heaven will also be a feast and a reunion.
(P.S. I am also thinking about making a prinsesstårta. Just in case you wondered whether I was going to spiritualize the whole season.)
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