Baking cookies with children can be fun. It’s guaranteed to be messy, but it’s always sweet in the end. A couple of weeks ago I was going to have a houseful of children on a day when it was too hot to play outdoors. What better than to bake some chocolate chip cookies with them to enjoy here, and to share with their parents when they went home?
The secret to baking with many little helping hands is prior planning. Before they arrived, I got out the mixer, the measuring tools, cookie sheets, and the ingredients. I re-read the recipe to familiarize myself with the order of operations. I even found enough aprons for them all to wear so they wouldn’t soil their clothing (at least where the aprons covered them!).
Once the cookie-making commenced it was a circus of barely organized activity. The oldest was more familiar with measuring cups of flour and teaspoons of baking powder, and the younger two made up for their inexperience with bold enthusiasm. As their little hands made fast work of the process, I circled the kitchen island, helping here, gently correcting there, and keeping my eye on the recipe for each next step. Once the butter and sugar were swirling in the mixer they “carefully” poured in each next ingredient, one at a time. Yes, flour was everywhere. Still, we finally managed to make the dough, and the children took turns scooping rounded spoonfuls of chocolate chip dough onto the cookie sheets. As the cookies came out of the oven, the delicious aroma filled the house. And once they cooled, we all enjoyed the confections of our labors.
Yes, I was exhausted at the end. Yes—oh yes—the kitchen was a sight to behold once the flour settled. But also, yes, the children were delighted with the cookies “they” had made and were eager to share them.
I was reminded of the cookie escapade this morning when in Sunday school class we discussed the tandem truths of God’s sovereignty and our duty to pray. If God has ordained all things that come to pass, and if he will accomplish all his holy will by the power of his Spirit, why do we need to pray? Do our prayers make anything happen—do they even matter?
Well, yes, our prayers matter, and Scripture bears out over and over again that God works through the prayers of his people (Acts 1:24–26; 4:29–31). We are commanded to pray, which is reason enough (Ps. 32:6; 1 Tim. 2:1). But why would an all-powerful, sovereign God command us to pray when he already knows and will accomplish everything that will happen because he has ordained it to be?
God calls us to pray because he is a loving Father who delights for his children to walk and work alongside him as he accomplishes all his holy will (Mat. 6:9; 1 Jn. 3:1). He has already assembled all the means for his will to come to pass, and some of those means are the prayers of his children. Furthermore, he hasn’t just read the recipe—he wrote it (Acts 2:23; 4:27–28; 15:18).
Some of his children are more accustomed to praying, and some who are only beginning stammer quietly while others enthusiastically pray with a boldness beyond their understanding. But our Father guides our hands and hearts by the prayers found in his Word as well as by the prayers of our older brothers and sisters. It may seem as if we’re doing all the work, but he has prepared the way and is working behind and all around us as we call out to him with our pleas and petitions (Rom. 8:26–27). Helping here, gently correcting there, his eye is always upon us (Ps. 139:16). You see, he has clothed his children who are called by his name with the righteousness of his Son, Jesus Christ, guaranteeing that our prayers will be heard no matter how childish they may be (Isa. 61:10; Phil. 3:9; 1 Jn 2:12). We may feel like we’re making a mess of it, but our prayers rise to him as a pleasant aroma (Rev. 5:8; 8:4). Time and time again, he gives us the blessing of enjoying the fruits of our prayers (Ps. 3:4; 34:4; 118:21). And oh, what a joy it is to share his answers to our prayers with those we love (2 Cor. 1:11).
Our prayers might be messy, but they will be sweet in the end.
Grateful 