The Pickle Jar Spoon

So I’m praying as I finished my Bible reading, “What is my next step?” And He brought to mind the somewhat bent spoon that Mom always kept in her cutlery drawer.

We could use it for cereal or soup or peas, but she was careful not to pull it out when company was at our table. It was her “pickle jar spoon.” She used it to break the vacuum seal of pickle jars for easier opening. The slightly pointed tip of the handle fit perfectly under the lid, and with a little twist, there was a “pop,” and the pickle jar was easily opened.

The bent spoon stayed at mom’s house when I married. My husband and I didn’t own a bottle opener yet, so there I was with nothing handy to open a pickle jar. I tried gripping the jar with a dish towel. No pop. I wet the towel for better leverage. No pop. I reached for one of my new spoons and pondered. We only had enough spoons for a table of four.

My husband walked into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to open this jar of pickles.”

He didn’t say a word, but he gave me a take-charge look and reached for the jar.

“Pop!”

He turned and stepped away as if his manly duty was done for the day.

“I loosened it for you,” I said to the back of his head.

Isn’t it funny the way memories sometimes flood our mind while we are trying to pray? And I thought . . . prayer! That’s the first thing necessary to open a pickle jar—with the lid of that pickle jar being symbolic of the barrier an unbeliever wears, shielding themselves from the very truth that will save them.

“But I do pray. Lord, you know I pray.”

Memories of my mother and her pickle jar spoon lingered as I went about my day. Pickles-pickles-pickles. I checked the pantry for pickles and saw that my supply was dwindling. I added pickle relish and sandwich dills to my grocery list.

“Do you want pickles on that?” The server held her pad and pen while she waited.

I hesitated, distracted by nostalgia. “Of course.”

Mom’s pickle jar, spoon method, is not the only method, and gadget manufacturers don’t want this younger generation to know it’s the best, but when I’ve demonstrated the spoon technique in front of friends, some have said, “My mom used to do that.”

It still works. Get yourself a “dollar-store” spoon and try it.

***

I say all that to have you consider how you go about accomplishing the Lord’s work. Am I doing the Lord’s work or busy work? Am I stalled because no one uses my favorite tools anymore? Church groups go off to work in different directions, leaving some feeling stranded, not knowing where to put their greatest effort or use their spiritual gifts and talents. That dependable tool that used to be isn’t practical anymore?

But pickle lovers don’t let the lid keep them from pickles, and the same is true whether it’s jam or mayonnaise or Miracle Whip. And the real question . . . do I really want the things my Bible shows me, or am I content to know it’s there—on the other side of glass—thinking I’ll get to it when “this” happens, or “that” changes.

Some of us are tired. We ask, “Does what I do for the kingdom really matter?” It’s not always easy to tell, especially when we are used to measuring effectiveness by outcome. Numbers. Applause and accolades.

What about the gal who “only” loosens the lid? Is it for nothing? Is it kingdom work when no one reports it or even knows about it?

Most of us, as sisters in Christ, have a sense about what we need to be doing. And don’t we all want for an opportunity to open the lid of the gospel for someone—to give them a taste and then walk with them through Scripture to guide their hunger? It is good to do what Jesus told us to, to do it well and to completion.

For he has satisfied the thirsty and filled the hungry with good things (Psalm 107:9, CSB).

Jesus can satisfy the searching unbeliever with the truth of the gospel, and He can satisfy my thirst to be there and participate in those events as they take place. Like a couple of puzzle pieces meant to connect, so is our desire to serve the Lord a perfect match to the need of some lost soul, looking to belong.

My prayers lately have been for opportunities to share the gospel with someone. Anyone. I want to be more than a lid loosener. Yes, I know it’s the Holy Spirit who opens hearts, but frankly, I’ve been hungry. I’ve had a craving for the sound of angels rejoicing over a sinner coming home. I’m sure that some of you are hungry too.

An answer to prayer happened during a Sunday morning Bible study recently. There was no need for me to go anyplace special. I sensed God saying that He was in charge. Nothing was up to me, other than to be present and prayerful when a young man walked into our classroom.

He was in his early twenties. We are all retired, some us retired by a couple of decades by now. But we were present, prayerful and having years in God’s word had prepared us to answer this man’s questions.

And boy, did he have questions!

My lesson plan fell to the background as he demanded answers. He pushed for answers and attention, ignoring the fact that he was the newbie in an established group with an established agenda. None of us knew what to think.

We sat around a square of tables. I sensed the young man’s lostness, and I sensed a whole lot of praying going on as I answered his rapid-fire questions. Questions coming from a man who, right away, told us about his mental illness.

For me at least, I knew this was a circumstance of answered prayer. “Lord,” I prayed. “When I said ‘anyone,’ I didn’t mean this guy.”

The conversation didn’t go down the organized path of the Roman Road. It zigged and zagged like the mind of someone with his stated illness. But every one of his questions begged for an answer supplied by God’s word and which happened to be just on the edge of someone in our group’s tongue.

We knew by his questions that we weren’t the first with this opportunity. I did most of the answering, but others addressed this young man with sensitivity, kindness and most of all the truth. I’m sad to report that the young man did a lot of confessing in that hour, but voiced no desire to repent or trust Jesus to manage his decisions or lifestyle. Very sad.

He stayed for worship and the preaching. He went forward during the last song to talk with the pastor. I found out later that we weren’t his first encounter with our church. He had been to our food bank and the lady who runs our clothes closet had invited and been praying for him.

Loosening the lid.

None of us who heard this man’s confessions and prayed with him are guaranteed to be present when the truth of the gospel “pops” through to his heart and mind and soul. We pray that he listens to and understands the voice of Holy Spirit, then responds with “Yes.” And of course, we’d like to witness that event.

Our God-given tools were put to work that day. This may have only been a test of our equipment and readiness, even our compassion and patience. A rehearsal for the next opportunity. But wow! That was one kingdom work-out. An appetizer.

“Okay, Lord,” was my prayer that evening. “Being a lid-loosener is great, too.”

Mom didn’t turn around to grab her old pickle jar spoon as she left this world for heaven, yet I couldn’t find it if I searched the whole earth. But in the wee hours of that Monday morning, after months with no dreaming, I dreamed about that bent spoon laying handy and waiting in my own cutlery drawer. So I prayed, “Lord, give me another of those encounters. With anyone. Anyone.”

Written by Rita Klundt.
Author and speaker, Rita Klundt’s, all-time favorite read is a true and transparent story with an only-God-could’ve-done-that ending. If something happens, good, tragic or funny, Klundt encourages women, not only to tell it, but to write it. Her memoir, “Goliath’s Mountain,” is a poignant and tragic love story that deals with mental illness and suicide. Klundt compiled and published stories from other Christian women, all with ties to Illinois. That award winning book, “Real Life. Real Ladies: Short Stories from the Pew” is about to become the first in a series. Rita and her husband live in Pekin, Illinois. You can find her online on her website and on Facebook. 
You can find more of Rita's posts on the PriorityNow Blog here.