When Scott and I first got married, we lived in an apartment in Southern California the size of an Amazon package. Low rent. Noisy neighbors. The occasional earthquake. And, memorably, cockroaches and mice as uninvited roommates.
Our first years of marriage gave us so many fond memories, but some not-so-fond ones too, including the night my in-laws came to visit for the first time.
I wanted to impress my mother-in-law. She was a great cook, and I needed to assure her (with my culinary prowess) that her son would not starve on my watch. I had made stuffed shells weeks before and frozen them, so the plan was simple: pull them from the freezer, reheat in the microwave, grab a pre-made salad, done. Perfect plan.
Until it wasn't.
Three Trips to the Kitchen, Zero Hot Shells
We had great conversation that night, genuinely fun catching up, but my shells were not heating up. My in-laws were gracious, but I could feel the quiet disappointment each time I returned from the kitchen empty-handed. After the third unsuccessful attempt, I finally figured it out.
The microwave was on defrost. Not cook. Defrost.
I felt like a complete fool. I'm not sure how the shells actually tasted, because I was too busy choking on my own pride.
The Part That Still Gets Me
I've come a long way from the frozen shell days of my youth. But I still get embarrassed when I think I haven't lived up to someone's expectations, real or imagined. I write entire narratives in my head about what people expect of me, and when things don't go as planned, I spiral a little.
Psalm 10:4 has a great word for anyone who wrestles with this the way I do:
"In his pride, the wicked man does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God."
Psalm 10:4
Ouch. Although by God's grace I am made righteous, I can absolutely fall into the trap of forging ahead without inviting God into my process. I'm capable and strong, so it becomes easy, maybe even comfortable, to just handle things myself. And then I wonder why my energy, enthusiasm, and fervor can't seem to warm up.
Like those frozen shells on defrost.
What Happens When We Invite God In
Here's what I've learned (slowly, and with a fair amount of embarrassing kitchen incidents along the way): the moments I'm most depleted, most frustrated, most stuck on defrost. Those are almost always the moments I've been operating in my own strength without asking God to step in.
Invite God into your life. Your decisions. Your relationships. Your chaos. Even your cooking. And see how He shows up with piping hot excitement, renewed joy, and connection you didn't manufacture yourself.
He doesn't need you to have it all together before He'll show up. He just needs to be invited.
One Question for You
Where in your life right now are you running on defrost, capable, going through the motions, but not actually inviting God into the process? I'd love to know. Send me a note. I read them all.
And if you want more of this kind of honest, real-life faith talk delivered straight to your inbox, join the newsletter. No spam, no hustle culture. Just encouragement that doesn't require you to pretend you have it all together.
