Last week, a good friend and fellow pastor stopped by for a visit. As always, our conversation drifted naturally to our favorite topic — Jesus. No agenda. Just two friends reflecting on grace, Scripture, and the strange beauty of life in the presence of God.
At one point, in the middle of laughter and theology, my friend paused and said, “Isn’t it great that God puts the best cookies on the bottom shelf?”
The phrase stuck. I’ve been chewing on it ever since — simple on the surface, but profoundly nourishing the more I take it in.
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It brought me back to my years working at a psychiatric center in Monterey, not far from Pebble Beach and Carmel. The parking lot looked like a luxury car dealership — Ferraris, Bentleys, Rolls-Royces, Mercedes, BMWs. These were people who had made it to the top shelf — accomplished, affluent, admired.
And yet, the more I sat with that clientele, the more I noticed: they wanted more cookies. Still hungry. The top shelf wasn’t satisfying. It was exhausting.
God is not against the top shelf. He’s the One who gave us intelligence, creativity, and drive. The same God who “gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who have understanding” (Daniel 2:21) has enabled us to cure diseases, build civilizations, and uncover the wonders of His creation.
But as Solomon observed, after gathering his towering collection of worldly goods,
“I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind” (Ecclesiastes 1:14).
That’s the human condition. No matter how high we climb, we’re never quite full. And the higher we climb, the more elusive satisfaction becomes.
But grace? Grace is a bottom-shelf gift.
Through years of soul-wearying work, I’ve learned this: the richest, deepest, most life-giving blessings are found within reach of anyone.
You find them in the quiet, sacred moments that sneak up on you.
You’re barefoot in the sand, the sun melting into the Pacific. For a brief, breathless moment, the world feels still. Whole. It’s as if the earth is exhaling — and you’re standing in the breath of God. Then the sky breaks open — distant thunder, lightning tracing its fingers across the clouds. You feel small. And somehow, safe.
A child laughs — loud and unfiltered. Pure joy. It fills the air like music no one wrote down. And you remember: this is what freedom sounds like.
Later, you’re broken. You don’t have the words. But a friend holds you in silence. That stillness speaks louder than advice. Maybe even louder than prayer.
And then — perhaps the hardest gift of all — someone forgives you. Really forgives you. Even though they didn’t have to. Even though you wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t. That kind of mercy breaks something open in you. It makes you believe that maybe — just maybe — God is as good as they say.
These are not just moments. They’re glimpses. Signs of a God who is nearer than we think — and more generous than we deserve.
That’s where God puts the best cookies.
“The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made” (Psalm 145:9).
He “sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous”(Matthew 5:45) — not because we earn it, but because He is good.
And the best gift of all? Jesus.
He didn’t wait for us to climb to Him. He came down to us.
“He made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant … he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death — even death on a cross!”(Philippians 2:7–8).
Jesus didn’t ascend a pedestal — He descended into our dust. And in doing so, He placed all the blessings of Heaven within reach.
He made them accessible not to the proud or powerful, but to the meek, the weary, the broken. To those already lying on the floor with the clearest view of the cross.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”(Matthew 5:3).
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest”(Matthew 11:28).
That’s the paradox of faith. The closer we are to the floor, the closer we are to Christ. When we stop reaching and start receiving, we discover the best cookie of all: the taste of forgiveness.
And once you’ve tasted that kind of grace, you realize — the best cookies are on the bottom shelf.
Dr. David Zuccolotto is a former pastor and clinical psychologist. For 35 years he has worked for hospitals, addiction treatment centers, outpatient clinics and private practice. He is the author of The Love of God: A 70 Day Journey of Forgiveness.
