Yesterday was carnitas day. Friends were coming so I threw a pork shoulder into the oven. 

Showered in salt. Rubbed down with the three magi of ancho chili pepper, cumin, oregano. Then surrounded by a root and citrus punch of onions and garlic and oranges and limes. All the juice and rinds included.

Slow cook in the oven for 4 hours at 275°. The aroma fills the house like a carnivore flower shop. A foretaste of things to come.

The shredded pork needs crisping before serving. Spread it out on a cookie sheet. 450° in the oven. Stirring frequently.

Shoot for crispy with burnt tips. (The citrus caramelizes. Beware the burnt spreading too far.)

Carnitas descend from a long line of recipes you can ruin in the last stage. One can easily crisp tender juicy pork into dry stringy leather.

Some of us can relate. We’ve been crisped beyond recognition. 

Crises turn us from ‘fun to be around’ to ‘a drain on the soul.’ 

We lose a job or a spouse or a child. Transform from soft and tender to dry and tough. Become burnt out or burnt up. With an unappealing odor.

Jesus can relate. 

His crown of thorns and throne of a cross repulsed everyone. His appearance ran counter to royalty. His death shouted defeat.

Friends and crowds scattered.

We who suffer run the opposite direction. 

Jesus’ suffering reveals a God who knows pain. A God who experienced overwhelming despair. A God forced to face the future alone. 

A God burnt out and burnt up but ultimately resurrected and restored. For you and for me and for everyone whose soul struggles with death’s impact on life.

In those times of giving up… In those days of feeling lost and broken… we run to that God. 

He knows the way to the empty tomb.