Jesus replied, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. [John 6:35 (NLT)]
Since he had a business meeting in Switzerland later in the week, my son went to London over the weekend to see his daughter who is in college there. Nearly every photo texted back to us showed my grand eating. Admittedly, she is a starving college student, living on a tight budget, who has grown tired of eating peanut butter, hummus with veggies, Raman noodles, and pasta in her apartment, so she took advantage of having access to her father and his credit card. With Dad paying the bill, she could again eat steak and lamb chops, indulge in gelato, and stock her pantry with fruit, meat, and cheese from Borough Market. As much as this starving coed needed food, what she really needed was a visit from home. Hugs from her father probably offered more nourishment than any amount of food. His visit did more than replenish her cupboards; it recharged her emotional batteries.
Sometimes, we have a hunger that won’t be satisfied by a trip to Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s, or Olive Garden; no amount of food can satisfy spiritual hunger. Rather than having our father visit, take us out to dinner, and fill our grocery bags, we need time with our Heavenly Father so He can fill our hearts and souls.
Last week, early in the morning, my husband asked if I had time for a walk at the beach. “No way!” was my first thought. Having spent several days in preparation for presenting a Bible study that evening, I was way behind in my writing, the bed linens needed changing, the laundry basket was full, and there were enough crumbs on the floor that you literally could eat off it! But, knowing how overwhelmed and spiritually empty I felt, I agreed. Being early risers, we arrived shortly before dawn and the full harvest moon in the west watched over us as the sun rose in the east. Feeling like I had yesterday, today, and tomorrow in the palm of my hand, I was reminded that God really does. In awe, as the moon’s light shimmered on the water while the sky grew pink with the sunrise, I walked in the beauty of God’s creation and felt His peace descend on me. Filled with His grace, I was renewed, refreshed, and restored. Remembering a lovely praise song, I silently sang: “Fill me up, God. Fill me up, God…” As the aroma of bacon wafted from a beach-side restaurant, my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t yet eaten breakfast. Nevertheless, that quiet time with my Heavenly Father sated my spiritual hunger and filled me up in a way that bacon, eggs, and toast never could.
God gave us a weekly Sabbath to rest, relax, restore, and replenish. The Hebrew word sabbat, which we know as Sabbath, comes from the verb sabat which means to stop or cease. The observance of the Sabbath every week was central to the Israelite’s life (and should be to ours) but, sometimes, in our fast-paced world, one day a week is not pause enough. There are times, like that Thursday morning, when we need what Terry Hershey calls a “Sabbath Moment” — a temporary cease-fire from the assault of busyness that so often bombards our lives. It’s a brief turning away from the day’s hustle and bustle to spend time with our Heavenly Father. The Sabbath moment does for us what her father’s visit did for my grand: it feeds and restores us. It fills us up!
More of your spirit is what we need,
More of your annointing,
More of your glory, fill me.
Fill me up God (fill me up God),
Fill me up God (fill me up God),
Fill me (that’s what I really want). [Will Reagan]
I’ve never seen a field of lilies in blossom but they couldn’t be any more beautiful than the field of narrow-leaved sunflowers that surrounded me at the bird sanctuary recently. Standing in wonder as their yellow faces smiled down on me, I was reminded of Jesus’s words about the lilies of the field. When I came upon a cardinal pecking away at a large ripe berry, I remembered His words regarding the birds. While watching the bird enjoy his breakfast, the story of Elijah and the ravens that fed him came to mind and I thought about God’s promise to provide.
But blessed is the man who trusts me, God, the woman who sticks with God. They’re like trees replanted in Eden, putting down roots near the rivers — Never a worry through the hottest of summers, never dropping a leaf, Serene and calm through droughts, bearing fresh fruit every season. [Jeremiah 17:7-8 (MSG)]
Mark, Matthew, and Luke all tell the story of Jesus calming the sea. He and the disciples had started to sail the five miles across the Sea of Galilee when a fierce storm struck. Tired from a day of preaching, Jesus remained asleep in the stern while the storm raged. As the waves broke and the boat began to fill with water, the disciples were sure they would perish. After they woke Jesus by shouting, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re going to drown?” He rebuked the wind and the storm ended.
“Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, the True Judge,” is a blessing often said by Jews when they undergo a death or tragedy. “This is all for the good,” or “Blessed is the true judge,” is often said by other Jews in response to their tragic news. Rather than being about God’s final judgment of a person, these words remind them that only God can judge whether events are good or bad. To illustrate this point, the Talmud has a story about the second century sage, Rabbi Akiva. One night, the rabbi, along with his rooster and donkey, arrived in a village. When no one would give Akiva a place to stay, the rebbe said, “All that God does, He does for the good.” He then walked to a field outside of town, set up camp, and lit his lantern. That evening, a gust of wind knocked over the lantern breaking it, a fox came and ate the rooster, and a lion came and killed the donkey. In spite of all that, Akiva said, “All that God does, He does for the good!” Just before dawn, marauders came and attacked the village but, camped in the field without light, crowing rooster or braying donkey to reveal his presence, the rabbi remained safe.
Grey hair may be a crown of glory and the splendor of old age, but that’s about all the splendor and glory I see in advanced years. As my mother-in-law approaches her 102nd birthday, there is little about her quality of life that I consider glorious or splendid. Her sparkling personality, vigor and enthusiasm, along with her hearing, visual perception, ability to reason, and memory are vanishing. Occasionally a spark of her old self resurfaces but, for the most part, the essence of the woman who has been a mother to me for over fifty years has disappeared.
