A cake not turned is raw on one side. That was Ephraim's problem—in so many ways, untouched by divine grace. Some partial obedience here, but rebellion still reigning there.

My soul, I charge you: examine yourself! Are you thorough in the things of God? Has grace penetrated to your very center, working its divine operations through all your powers, your actions, your words, and your thoughts? To be sanctified—spirit, soul, and body—that must be your aim and your prayer! And though sanctification may not be perfect in any single degree, it must be universal in its action. You cannot have the appearance of holiness in one place while sin still reigns in another. Otherwise you, too, will be a cake not turned.

Here's what happens to a cake not turned: it burns black on the side nearest the fire. And while no one can have too much genuine faith, there are some who seem burnt black with bigoted zeal for that fragment of truth they've received. Charred to cinders with vainglorious Pharisaic displays—those religious performances that stroke their ego. This assumed superior sanctity often masks a complete absence of real spiritual life. The saint in public is a devil in private. He deals in flour by day and soot by night. The cake burned on one side is still raw dough on the other.

If this is me, O Lord, then turn me! Turn my unsanctified nature to the fire of your love. Let it feel that sacred glow. And yes, let my burnt side cool a little while I learn my own weakness—how cold I grow when removed from your heavenly flame. Don't let me be found a double-minded man. Make me someone entirely under the powerful influence of reigning grace.

For I know this well: if I am left like a cake unturned—if I am not on both sides the subject of your grace—I must be consumed forever in everlasting burnings.