A couple of weeks ago I caught an episode of Kitchen Nightmares.  Restaurants on the show are mere weeks from having to shut their doors.  In their hour of need, world-renown restaurantier Gordon Ramsey sweeps in to save the day.  He takes inventory of the menus, tests their food and takes inventory of their facility, workflow and books.  At the end of his evaluation, he directs a complete overhaul of the restaurant, from the menu and décor to the marketing strategies and workflow.

Three restaurants were featured, but “The Secret Garden” was in a class by itself.  Outside it looked like a quaint European cottage.  Inside was a different story.  Ramsey was astounded by what he found.  His meal was ugly and salty with poorly mated flavors.  Back in the kitchen, the scene was even worse.  It was filthy; the racks were covered with unidentifiable slime; the cooler was full of rotting produce and putrid meat.  Maggots were well established, and much of the food was growing mold and fungi.  At the helm was an insufferably arrogant French chef.

One would think the chef would have been desperate for Ramsey’s wise counsel.  After all, he was facing insolvency and stood hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt.  And it was true, he listened for a while, but it seemed he was only humoring Ramsey to obtain his help and publicity.  Under pressure, he reverted to his old failed recipes and stuttering workflow.  Stress revealed his true colors and he became combative and insubordinate.  

It was remarkable to watch a man so full of pride that he would blow his opportunity to get free consulting services from a world expert in his field.  He was uncooperative, insulting and offered nothing positive about any of Ramsey’s changes.  Of the three restaurants highlighted, his was the worst, but he was the least open to change and the most belligerent.  

As I marveled at this man’s hubris, it dawned on me that I do the very same thing with God.  I’m completely bankrupt on joy and purpose on my own, and yet under pressure I frequently revert to old familiar habits of obtaining worth and happiness.  I flip the bird at God's counsel, sometimes blatantly.  In that moment of revelation, my foolishness astounded me.  I claim to know better than the Creator who knows all. 

Gordon Ramsey's counsel was a rare privilege.  My fortune is that I may call on the wisdom of the wisest of all.  How dumb would I be to squander that?  For the chef's sake, I hope he eats some humble pie before it's too late.  For my sake, I hope I never miss a slice again. 

 

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