Like many people, I started baking a lot more after the pandemic started. While I have yet to jump on the sourdough bandwagon, I did find myself mixing flour and sugar and butter together on a much more regular basis than I used to. When I’d scroll through my Instagram feed, it was obvious I wasn’t alone in that practice.

Why do we do that? Why do we find ourselves with a big mixing bowl and a spatula and a newfound desire to use our ovens?

Science, so I’ve heard, has a lot to say about what sugar and carbs do to our brains and bodies (like increasing dopamine levels, which brings us pleasure but is also why practicing moderation is necessary). Yet then why do we sometimes find satisfaction in baking, even when we’re not the ones to eat the fruits of our labor? Why does the act of making cookies or bread or whatever else seem to bring some sense of comfort?

I believe God will one day make all things new. He will fully bring his kingdom on earth as it is in heaven, he will put everything right, he will bring justice and restoration and glory and joy. But we’re not there yet. We’re in this strange “already but not yet” place, a place still speaking the language of lament. My brothers and sisters throughout the world speak it fluently, but I easily forget. It’s a language that’s not easy to listen to, one I want to silence and ignore.