Happy mistakes of my faith
Photograph by Pixabay via Pexels
Rev. Justin Cox
My grandmother was a complicated woman.
Complicated in that she enjoyed watching “Golden Girls” and “American Gladiators” with equal pleasure. When not laughing at Sophia and Dorothy or witnessing a man named “Laser” pummel a volunteer fire chief in a jousting event, she’d get her farm chores done early to tune into PBS. She loved the Cajun cook, Justin Wilson. My sister and I would join her on afternoons fresh off the school bus, listening to Wilson deliver his catchphrase, “I Ga-ron-tee,” before staying put to watch painter Bob Ross make something out of nothing.
Ross, with his big hair and quiet voice of affirmation, would turn a blank canvas into a majestic scene with little effort. Instructing people that they could do the same through his painting method. He'd go along, making a mountain here and a river there. However, sometimes, his brush would catch or get in front of him, resulting in what he'd call a “happy accident.”
He never let a would-be mistake deter him. He rolled with it, transforming the slip into a branch or bush.
I have long admired that trait in Ross but have struggled to embody it myself. I quickly spiral when a mishap occurs, and once one does, I start to feel “in the weeds,” as if I’m behind and unable to catch up and correct the situation.
Making mistakes and experiencing “happy accidents” has been a significant part of my time in the kitchen and in front of the stove. My experimenting often welcomes the unexpected and encourages me to let go of the regimented style or belief that things need to happen a certain way.
My faith is similar to that as well.
Recently, I reacquainted myself with making scones. My nose was pressed into a book by Southern baker extraordinaire Nathalie Dupree. Dupree, who passed away earlier this year, wrote several books and received award after award for her culinary creations. Hers was one of the first books I turned to when I started making biscuits, so I knew her recommendations on what passed for a scone would be top-notch.
Cooking offers a lot of grace. Baking, not so much. Precision, attention to detail, and a healthy prayer life are required. I used it all as I grabbed the needed ingredients and placed them on my counter. All was going smoothly; I followed the instructions to the T.
And then, a “happy mistake.”
I made it unscathed until the dough-cutting process. Dupree’s directions were to cut 12 equal pieces, which wasn’t as clear as I would have liked. What I ended up with were smaller “mini-scones.” Of course, this didn’t change the flavor of the scones, but I loathed coming that far and not nailing the recipe. The experience reminded me why I barely squeaked by high school geometry.
Making mistakes and experiencing “happy accidents” has been a significant part of my time in the kitchen and in front of the stove. My experimenting often welcomes the unexpected and encourages me to let go of the regimented style or belief that things need to happen a certain way. My faith is similar to that as well.
I typically clean while I work, which leaves me in a state similar to the Ignatian Examen while the timer counts down. For the next 22 minutes, as the scones rose and puffed out, I thought about the mistakes that had led me to where I am and helped shape the person I am still becoming. My mind plunged into the intersectionalities of my evolving faith journey.
What have been the things I thought I needed to hold onto to be considered as part of something? I suppose this was on my mind since I’d seen social media updates coming out of the 2025 Southern Baptist Convention Annual Gathering over in Dallas, Texas. Lots of talk about doctrine and orthodoxy regarding the Christian faith. Over the years, I’ve been exposed to all sorts of perceived religious dogma only to discover after a little investigation that it’s little more than someone’s interpretation. I wish people and the institutions they uphold would just call it that.
Interpretation is much more fragile. It doesn’t sound as imposing, making it hard to erect something, like a set of beliefs, on it.
In my Baptist circle, there’s a lot of emphasis on freedom. Bible freedom, soul freedom, religious freedom, church freedom. Folks who come from the tradition are described as being non-creedal people. Creeds, like doctrines, typically represent a consistent and unchanging system of understanding.
Baptists need reminding that, in their better days, they’ve done well being a “confessing” people. Confession calls for evaluation of where you’ve been, where you are, and where you hope to go. It’s a call to think about why you do what you do and allows, even encourages, one to make changes when needed.
“Happy mistakes” are a nice way of saying you’ve experienced a new interpretation. Making mistakes and assessing new confessions of being are ways I feel I’ve gone deeper with my faith.
For me, shuffling around the kitchen while referencing and recreating recipes is both fun and humbling. It’s a way to build on something, adapt it, and pass it along for someone else to do the same with later.
That process is filled with all sorts of accidents. I’ve learned a lot and become proficient in some areas — able to take what I have and make a new creation out of what’s in my pantry.
So, where has this led me to? Well, as for scones, I can choose to try again to see if I can achieve Dupree’s divine dozen count, or I can decide that I like my 20-odd-count mini-scones and keep making them that way. Perhaps I’ll adjust the amount of buttermilk? Maybe I’ll substitute sweet milk? Why not add some walnuts to that? The point is that what gives me life shouldn’t be constraining.
My faith shouldn’t, either.
Justin Cox received his theological education from Campbell University and Wake Forest University School of Divinity. He is an ordained minister affiliated with the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship and enrolled in the Doctor of Ministry program at McAfee School of Theology. Opinions and reflections are his own.
The views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily those of American Baptist Home Mission Societies.
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