A Pinch of Purpose: Salt and Pepper in the Baker’s Hands

A Pinch of Purpose: Salt and Pepper in the Baker’s Hands

The 5 a.m. alarm had become Jerome's favourite sound. After fifteen years treating trauma wounds in refugee camps across three continents, the gentle chime that called him to his bakery felt like a lullaby. His hands, once steady with surgical instruments, now found their rhythm in kneading dough and shaping hope into edible form.

This Tuesday morning started like any other. Jerome tied his flour-dusted apron and began preparing his signature cheese biscuits-a recipe that had become the talk of Millfield. But as he reached for his spice rack, something made him pause.

In his left palm: coarse sea salt, crystals catching the kitchen's warm light. In his right: freshly cracked black pepper, releasing its sharp, earthy aroma. For a moment, these ordinary seasonings felt anything but ordinary.

"You are the salt of the earth," Jesus had said. "But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again?" (Matthew 5:13, NIV) HE read these lines early this morning while sipping his first mug of freshly brewed Arabica coffee. Something that he had got addicted to during his deployments.

Jerome smiled, remembering how salt was so sacred in biblical times that it sealed covenants. "Season all your grain offerings with salt," God had commanded in Leviticus 2:13. "Do not leave the salt of the covenant of your God out of your grain offerings."

Salt doesn't just flavor, it preserves, heals, and draws out the best in everything it touches. Just like how a pinch in chocolate cake doesn't make it salty but makes the sweetness shine brighter.

Then he considered the pepper. Unlike salt's preserving nature, pepper stirs things up. It awakens. A little brings life; too much overwhelms. It reminded him of Paul's wisdom: "Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt" (Colossians 4:6), grace and salt, yes, but sometimes also the gentle fire of pepper to awaken sleeping hearts.

As if on cue, the bakery's bell chimed. Margaret from down the street shuffled in, her usual bright demeanour replaced by hollow eyes. Jerome had heard through the grapevine about her husband's sudden passing three weeks earlier.

Without a word, he plated a warm biscuit-extra pepper today and set it before her with chamomile tea. "This one's got character," he said softly, settling into the chair across from her. "Sometimes we need a little heat to remind us of we're still alive."

Margaret took a tentative bite, then another. The pepper's gentle warmth unlocked something in her chest, and the tears came, not the bitter kind, but the healing kind that had been trapped for weeks.

They talked until the morning rush began. About love that endures beyond death. About finding strength in the smallest comforts. About how God seasons our hardest moments with just enough grace to help us taste hope again.

As Margaret left with a bag of biscuits for her neighbours, Jerome understood something deeper about his calling. Whether binding wounds in war zones or baking comfort in a small town, he was still in the business of healing-still helping people discover God's preserving love and awakening grace.

The Wayfarer's Reflection

Salt preserves and enhances; pepper awakens and enlivens. In God's hands, we serve both purposes, preserving truth in our broken world while awakening hearts to His love. Like the covenant salt of Leviticus and the seasoned grace of Colossians, our smallest acts of faithfulness can flavor someone's darkest day with hope. We are God's seasoning, meant to bring out the best in every life we touch.

How is God calling you to be both salt and pepper in your community today?