“Quiet Climbing and Fluffy Biscuits”

Quiet Climbing and Fluffy Biscuits

Why God Cares About Both

There are some seasons when you’re scaling spiritual mountains, wrestling with deep questions about surrender, learning how to guard your heart, steward your energy, and listen for the still, small voice of God.

And then there are other moments in the very same season when you’re standing in your kitchen thinking,

“Please, Lord, let these biscuits rise.”

I used to think the holy moments only happened in prayer closets, church services, and dramatic encounters with God.

But I’m beginning to wonder if God smiles just as much when we finally get the biscuits right.

Life is funny that way.

One minute you’re pondering Sinai and the glory of God.

The next minute you’re wondering if you remembered enough flour in the gravy.

One minute you’re praying,

“Search me and know my heart.”

The next minute you’re saying,

“I hope my family likes breakfast.”

Maybe that’s the point.

Maybe walking with God isn’t learning how to escape ordinary life.

Maybe it’s learning how to recognize His presence within it.

The Lord who met Moses on the mountain is the same Lord who provides daily bread.

The God who teaches us reverence also teaches us gratitude.

The One who says,

“Let Me show the way. Let Me lead. Let Me guide. Let Me do this work,”

also quietly reminds us:

“Enjoy your family.

Laugh a little.

Celebrate the fluffy biscuits.”

There are seasons for warfare.

There are seasons for weeping.

There are seasons for fasting.

And apparently…

there are seasons for sourdough starters and sausage gravy.

Perhaps spiritual maturity isn’t becoming so serious that we miss the goodness of ordinary gifts.

Perhaps it means learning to receive them with thanksgiving.

Quiet climbing and fluffy biscuits can absolutely belong in the same season of life.

One nourishes the soul.

The other nourishes the people you love.

And both become acts of gratitude when offered back to God.

We are rising like biscuits to the summit!

Sometimes in the intense seasons, where you have to be on guard, stand watch, you just need to enjoy the light moments.
You can ponder Sinai and still celebrate fluffy biscuits.

You can write about hyssop and still smile at the absurdity of:

“Rising Like Biscuits to the Summit.”

Because joy has started sneaking back in.

Wonder has started sneaking back in.

Playfulness has started sneaking back in.

Not because life suddenly got easy.

But because your spirit has enough breathing room to enjoy the ridiculous.

“Wait…is this a theology blog or a baking blog?”

And you’d answer:

“Yes.”

Quiet Climbing and Fluffy Biscuits. The truth is:

The Bible has mountains…

and meals.

Sinai…

and manna.

Elijah…

and cake baked on coals.

Jesus…

and breakfast on the shore.

Martha in the kitchen…

and Mary at His feet.

The Upper Room…

and the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.

God seems perfectly comfortable moving between profound and ordinary.

Maybe we should be too.

So, are you getting carried away?

Maybe.

But maybe you’re also carrying something else:

Gratitude.

Delight.

A lighter spirit.

A willingness to laugh again.

After long intense trials, it is good to unpack all the things you have learned and processed. It is not something to supress but to receive happily. Maybe the new found joy is a beginning of healing, and the sound of a new beginning. There are times for heavy revelations, but also deep truths in the normal, and ordinary things we do in life. One can simply discover that joy and holiness are not enemies. Maybe the Lord is saying to you. Add your name, keep climbing, and enjoy the biscuits. I know it sounds a little crazy but I would totally read a blog called “Lessons in Faith, Formation, and Flaky Layers.” Because honestly it’s pretty much where I am currently in my life right now!

I’ve spent the last few months reflecting on deep spiritual truths.

Yieldedness.

Trust.

Overcoming victory.

Learning to let God lead.

Learning to listen.

Learning not to react to every battle.

Learning that growth often comes disguised as inconvenience, interruptions, and uncomfortable adjustments.

And then one morning, standing in my kitchen, I found myself praying,

“Lord, please let these biscuits turn out.”

I had to laugh.

Because somehow, life always seems to hold both.

The mountain and the breakfast table.

The prayer closet and the laundry pile.

The holy hush and the family gathering.

The spiritual summit and sausage gravy.

As I pulled those biscuits from the oven and watched them rise into beautiful, fluffy layers, I had an unexpected thought:

Maybe faith looks a little like biscuit making.

Stay with me.

First, there are layers.

God has been working in layers all along.

Healing layers.

Identity layers.

Trust layers.

Formation layers.

Humility layers.

Sometimes we want instant transformation, but God seems content to work slowly and thoroughly.

Layer by layer.

Second, rising takes time.

You can’t rush biscuits.

You can’t rush healing.

You can’t rush maturity.

You can’t rush God’s timing.

Some things need rest.

Some things need heat.

Some things need time in the oven.

Third, ingredients matter.

What we feed our hearts eventually affects what rises within us.

Praise.

Prayer.

Truth.

Gratitude.

Listening.

Trust.

All become part of the mixture.

Finally, biscuits remind me that God isn’t only present in dramatic moments.

He is present in ordinary ones too.

The God who met Moses on the mountain also provided daily bread.

Jesus preached to multitudes and cooked breakfast for His friends.

The sacred and the simple have always lived side by side.

Maybe spiritual maturity isn’t becoming so serious that we forget how to laugh.

Maybe it’s learning to recognize God in the middle of everyday life.

The extraordinary.

The ordinary.

The tears.

The laughter.

The mountain.

The kitchen.

And perhaps one of the sweetest lessons of all is this:

The same God who leads us through valleys and up mountains also delights in the moments when we gather around a table, give thanks, and celebrate the small victories.

Like biscuits that finally rise.

So here’s to faith, formation, and flaky layers.

To learning patience.

To trusting the process.

To quiet climbing.

To family around the table.

To laughter after hard seasons.

And to the God who meets us both at the summit and in the kitchen.

One step.

One prayer.

One fluffy biscuit at a time.

Because the Lord is working in the midst of all our flaky layers!

One of the greatest lies we can believe is that life with God is only found in the profound moments.

The mountaintops.

The breakthroughs.

The answered prayers.

The dramatic encounters.

But this week, I found Him somewhere else too.

I found Him standing in the kitchen.

In biscuits and gravy that turned out just right.

In pie dough rolled out across the counter.

In flour-covered hands working side by side.

In laughter.

In stories shared around the table.

In the satisfaction of creating something beautiful together.

I think sometimes we forget that Jesus attended weddings, shared meals, multiplied bread, and cooked breakfast on the shore for His friends.

He wasn’t only present in the synagogue.

He was present at the table.

Perhaps part of spiritual maturity is learning to recognize that holy moments don’t only happen in prayer closets.

Sometimes they happen while making pie.

And perhaps one of the sweetest victories after difficult seasons is this:

Not merely that we survived them.

But that we still know how to gather.

How to nourish.

How to celebrate.

How to give thanks.

How to laugh.

How to enjoy the people God has entrusted to us.

There is something deeply healing about flour on your hands and gratitude in your heart.

Maybe abundant life looks a little more ordinary than we expected.

Maybe it smells like biscuits baking and pie cooling on the counter.

And maybe that’s enough.

Maybe that’s holy too.

Copywrited: Greater Heights Publications 2026