Let the Dough Rise - Faith Takes Time
- Salvatore Santaniello
- 3 hours ago
- 4 min read
I have decided bread is proof that God has a sense of humor.
Because bread is made from the simplest things on earth; flour; water; salt; yeast.
That is it.
Nothing glamorous. Nothing impressive. No dramatic soundtrack. Just a bowl full of stuff that looks like a failed school project.
And somehow; if you do it right; it becomes bread.
That feels a lot like discipleship.
Most of us want God to make something beautiful out of our lives. We want strength. We want peace. We want testimony. We want wisdom. We want to become better people.
But then God starts with the ingredients we actually have.
A little faith.
A little exhaustion.
A little stubbornness.
Some old regret.
A spoonful of hope.
And maybe just enough humility to admit we do not know what we are doing.
That is where the miracle starts.
Bread does not become bread because the ingredients are fancy. It becomes bread because the ingredients are worked together.
That part matters.
The dough has to be mixed. Then kneaded. Then stretched. Then pressed. Then folded back over itself.
Which is a very nice way of saying bread gets manhandled before it gets useful.
I dislike that part spiritually.
I would prefer God gently sprinkle blessings over my life like powdered sugar on French toast.
But most growth does not happen that way.
Sometimes the Lord has to work things into us. Patience. Forgiveness. Discipline. Courage. Repentance. A softer heart. A stronger backbone.
And sometimes that feels like pressure.
But pressure is not always punishment. Sometimes it is preparation.
Elder D. Todd Christofferson once taught about Jesus Christ as “the living bread which came down from heaven,” pointing back to the Savior’s words in John 6. Christ did not just give bread. He is the Bread of Life. He is what actually feeds the soul.
That changes the whole metaphor.
Because we are not just trying to become better bread on our own.
We are being changed by Christ.
He is the life in the dough.
Without yeast; dough just sits there.
Without Christ; so do we.
We can look religious. We can stay busy. We can attend meetings. We can say the right phrases. But without the Savior working inside us; nothing really rises.
Yeast works quietly.
You do not see much at first. You just have to trust that something living is happening in the dough.
That is hard for people like me.
I like progress I can measure. I like checklists. I like visible results. I like knowing whether the thing is working before I waste my whole afternoon staring at a bowl covered with a towel.
But faith often rises under cover.
A prayer here.
A scripture there.
A sacrament meeting where we barely kept our eyes open but showed up anyway.
An apology we did not want to make.
A temptation we did not give in to.
A small choice to keep believing.
None of that looks dramatic in the moment.
But heaven sees the rise.
Then comes the waiting.
Nobody likes this part.
Bread has to rest.
Which sounds peaceful until you realize rest is just waiting with a nicer name.
The dough cannot be rushed. If you bake it too early; it is dense. Heavy. Not ready.
That is a sermon all by itself.
Some blessings need time.
Some healing needs time.
Some people need time.
Some testimonies need time.
Some of us are still rising.
And that does not mean God has forgotten us. It may mean He knows exactly what He is doing.
Then; after all that mixing; kneading; waiting; and rising; the dough goes into the oven.
Because apparently bread was not already uncomfortable enough.
Heat finishes what kneading started.
Life does that too.
Trials reveal what has been growing inside us. Heat does not create the dough; but it proves it. It firms it. It gives it structure. It turns potential into something that can actually feed someone else.
That may be one of the quiet purposes of discipleship.
God is not only making us stronger for ourselves.
He is making us useful.
A loaf of bread is not made to admire itself.
It is made to be broken and shared.
That brings us right back to Jesus Christ.
Every week; we take the sacrament bread. It is broken. Passed. Received. Remembered.
Not fancy bread.
Not impressive bread.
Just a small piece.
But in that small piece; we remember the greatest gift ever given.
The Savior was broken so we could be made whole.
He descended below all things so He could lift all things.
He became the Bread of Life so hungry souls like ours could keep going.
So maybe the lesson is simple.
Do not give up because life is kneading you.
Do not assume nothing is happening because you are still waiting.
Do not believe the heat means God has left the kitchen.
He is still working.
He is still shaping.
He is still helping us rise.
And when the time is right; somehow; by His grace; He can take the ordinary ingredients of our lives and make something holy.
Even from us.
Especially from us.
I leave these thoughts with you in the name of Jesus Christ; amen.