Unexpected Lessons Hiding in My Dough: How Sourdough Revealed the Slow and Sanctified Work of God in My Life

Stretch & Fold Your Faith: Lessons from the Dough Bowl

When I first started baking sourdough, I assumed the key to success would be a perfect recipe. If I measured carefully, followed the timeline, and kept my starter alive, surely I’d be guaranteed a tall, crusty, beautiful loaf. But as it turns out, sourdough has a way of humbling even the most diligent bakers. Sometimes the dough spreads instead of rising. Sometimes it’s tight, sometimes too slack. And every once in a while, just when I think I’ve nailed it, something unexpected happens—and I’m back to square one.

Over time, I began to notice something. The process of baking sourdough mirrored something deeper: my walk with Christ. And here is where I found some unexpected lessons in my sourdough baking.

The Waiting

Fermentation takes time. You can’t rush it. You can’t force the dough to rise just because you’re ready. It needs warmth, rest, and patience. And so do we. In a culture that prizes instant results and rapid growth, sourdough reminds me that God works slowly and purposefully. Isaiah 64:4 says, “God acts on behalf of those who wait for Him.” Just like the dough needs hours to develop flavor and structure, so do we need seasons of stillness for God to shape us.

The Stretch & Folds

This method—gently stretching and folding the dough over itself every 30–45 minutes—isn’t about working harder; it’s about building strength through grace. It reminds me of how God often shapes us. Not in one big transformation, but through repeated, gentle correction. Stretch. Fold. Rest. Repeat. 2 Corinthians 4:16 says, "Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day."

We may feel pulled or folded by life’s challenges, but in God's hands, we are being built up—not broken down.

The Mystery of Transformation

The most magical part of baking is that invisible work—the leavening that happens while we’re not looking. We cover the dough and walk away, and hours later, it’s risen. Isn’t that just like the Holy Spirit? Working quietly, deep in the unseen parts of our hearts? Jesus said in Mark 4:26-27, "This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how."

Faith is built in those hidden, quiet spaces. The Word of God feeds us, the Spirit shapes us, and over time—often without realizing it—we’re changed.

The Score

When it’s time to bake, we take a sharp blade and slash the dough. At first, this step felt like destruction. Why would we cut into a perfectly risen loaf? But without the score, the loaf would burst unpredictably in the oven. The score gives it direction. It reminds me of Hebrews 12:11, which says, “No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace.”

Sometimes God’s hand feels sharp—like a correction or a redirection. But His cuts are precise, filled with purpose, and always for our good.

The Heat

And then comes the fire. The hot oven. The final transformation. In 1 Peter 1:7, we’re told that trials come so that our faith—of greater worth than gold—may be proved genuine. The oven reveals what the process has built. And much like our lives, it's in the heat that our character, our perseverance, and our faith become visible.

Final Thoughts

So the next time you're folding your dough or feeding your starter, let it preach to you. Let it remind you that growth takes time. That God's process is never rushed, though it is always on time. That being stretched isn't a punishment—it's part of your strengthening. And that the heat you're walking through today may be the very thing that reveals His glory in you tomorrow.

Bread takes time. And so does sanctification. But He who began a good work in you will carry it to completion (Philippians 1:6).

So keep stretching. Keep folding. Keep feeding. He’s not finished with you yet.

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