Cider Pressing--and What It Means to Die Daily

Last week the children got their wish when their daddy agreed to spend the day taking them apple picking in Denver at two places where there were free apples. (More on that later.)

And then Thursday afternoon and evening we set up the cider press that my sister's family had left for us, and we had a few friends in and pressed cider.

On the front porch, we ladies and girls cut the apples into quarters and cut out any really bad spots.

The boys and their dads kept the apples shredding in the shredder on the sidewalk,

and then wrapped the shredded apple in tough cheesecloth, 

placed those bundles of apple between layers of wooden slats,

and then compressed it with a compressor.

After those friends left, we had a quick supper, and then started all over again with other friends.

And night fell.

And it got chilly.

And the knives continued to quarter,

and the shredder to shred,

and the compressor to press until nothing was left but pulp--

and cider. 

Nothing like fresh pressed apple cider!

These half gallon jars went to our home schooling friends who helped us for a couple hours.

Sweet, sweet, rich cider.
The children couldn't stop drinking that stuff.
They slurped and slurped,
and we shared it out with our friends, this one and that.
Apples are great, but a lot of apple is core, skin, pulp, and,
oh, yeah, worms and yucky black stuff around the worms. 

You get rid of that stuff when you press cider.

 The apple is gone when the cider comes streaming out of the spigot.

The apple died,

and the cider comes pouring out.

 

Joni Erickson Tada reminds us that the Gospel "tells me to daily take up my cross and die to self..."

She wrote, "I call it an interior crucifixion. An inside slaying of anxiety, doubt, or fear – for me, it’s dying to thoughts like, what if my pain gets worse? Will I be able to live like this for the rest of my life?! God, this isn’t really your will for me… is it?!

It’s not something God asks us to do occasionally.

We are to pick up our cross daily because a cross-filled life is made up of many cross-filled days....

And I will tell you a secret.

As I’ve practiced taking up my cross – that heavy, hard thing in my life – I have fallen in love with Jesus through a deeper, sweeter, more intimate union with Him, the crucified Christ.

Living day by day in the fellowship of sharing with His sufferings, I discover a side of Jesus that perhaps many people don’t see – at least people who shun the distasteful duty of dying to themselves.

Yet God shares His intimacy on His terms; and those terms call for us to, in some measure, suffer as His precious Son did...

"Our culture hates that sort of stuff. It will do everything it can to distract you away from the blood-stained road to Calvary. That sort of life is for martyrs and missionaries… not you, it’ll insist.

Oh, friend, join me in receiving every inward and outward trouble with both your hands, as a chance to die to yourself and enter into a happier fellowship with Jesus.

When God does not give you what you desire; when you pray until your knees ache, and yet the Lord says ‘No,’ it is a way of receiving trouble with open, willing hands.

It’s a glorious opportunity to let go of what you want, and cling to what Christ wants – perseverance, endurance, and a clearer understanding of His amazing love."

[from Joni's new daily devotional, A Spectacle of Grace, as quoted in aholyexperience.com]

 The above devotional thought meant a lot to me,

because this very morning I had been bringing something to the Lord,

a dear desire, that actually came from Scripture,

and I wanted it to happen--

and prayed for it to happen--

and claimed the promise to happen--

in my time frame.

And my heart broke as I handed it over to the Lord--

to do in His time frame,

not mine.

And so more of my apple is quartered, and shredded,

and pressed and compressed,

and the night falls and it is chilly.

Dear God,

don't let this little apple go to waste!

Don't let this crushing load go to the garbage! 

Let there be some sweet cider somewhere--sometime,

in Your time frame!