For five long years my family suffered through a drought. A King Cake drought. For five years we lived on the East Coast of Maryland – where everything is crab-flavored and NO ONE understood.
Why would you put a baby in a cake?! That sounds too sweet, here, eat this pretzel covered in Old Bay.
It was a nightmare.
Occasionally a beloved friend or family member would send the precious pastry in the mail – and oh how we rejoiced! We tried making homemade versions of King Cake, but Pinterest is a dirty liar. It was not easy. It was not good.
Finally the Lord called us home to New Orleans and this year we have not been discerning in our King Cake feasting. Any chance we get – any flavor you have – any bakery you’ve heard of, we have explored them with reckless abandon. It’s like finding a cool mountain brook in an oasis, after wandering the desert for half a decade.
Am I being a little overly dramatic? NEVER! Ok… maybe a little. But a love for King Cake is nothing compared to the desperate need our hearts have to be in the presence of Jesus. We will ultimately spend eternity in His presence, but until then, through prayer, worship and reading His Word we experience a cool mountain brook after stumbling through a desert of self.
And no matter how far into the desert you have wandered, all you ever have to do is turn around to find our King ready to hold you.
