If you're the kind of person who gets irritated when life stretches you beyond your comfort zone, I beg you, don’t read this post.

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When I ask people why they love bread, most of them can’t even explain it. They just know it’s soft, quick, versatile, and easy (that's the word).
Bread doesn’t waste your time. It goes with anything. It’s always there.

But have you ever stopped to ask yourself:

What does it take to become bread?... If you haven't, Let me show you.

First comes the flour but not just any flour, it must be sifted. Every lump, every imperfection removed.

Then it is mixed. Not gently. Not kindly.
It is thrown, turned, crushed, rolled over and over again. Butter, sugar, flavors, poured in, not to pamper it, but to break it down further.

Just when you think that’s enough, it is cut, molded, and shoved into shape. Then comes the worst part: THE FIRE.

Not a mild flame, not a sweet breeze of heat but a fire so hot that even the baker stands at a distance. And the bread stays there… for as long as it takes.

All of this pain, all of this pressure, Just to become something that can be eaten in seconds.

And yet, it is in that pain the bread finds its purpose.

So tell me…
Why do you cry at the first sight of heat in your own life?

Why do you abandon your calling because the mixing hurts?

Why do you run from process, when even bread doesn’t?

You want your name on platforms, your gift on stages, your voice in nations.

You want the world to taste your greatness.

But you don’t want to be sifted.

You don’t want to be cut.

You don’t want to enter the fire.

My dear, if you saw what bread goes through behind bakery walls, you might never eat it again.

Here’s the truth:
The impact of bread lasts far longer than the process of becoming it. And so will yours.

If only you pay the price.

You are not flour anymore. You are becoming.
Embrace the heat. Submit to the shaping and rise.

Hopefully, this story is so poetic to us as the Urantia book readers and as ambassadors of God ( the Father) for His Kingdom.