Sometimes I feel crazy for doing this. Quitting my job last May to step into the calling I felt the Lord putting on my heart. If the timing of my departure felt quick to you, I promise it felt quick to me as well. History has proved that it was a good call on many fronts. Financially is not one of those fronts. Before I go on, this is not a call to fundraise. This is just where we are because of the decisions we made. This space has always been a place of sincerity… The last word I want to be used to describe the blog is artificial… whether it’s artificial intelligence or artificial sincerity. So here it is.
I have said from the beginning that this year has been the year of sacrifice for our family… our Romans 12 era, if you will. Beth and I knew the costs when we stepped into it. And as I was speaking with my coach about this journey when we started, he asked me what we needed. And as Beth and I prayed about that, we both felt the Lord say to us “our daily bread.”
When Jesus was demonstrating what prayer should look like this is what He said we should pray for. It is an obvious allusion to the miraculous bread that rained from heaven each day that made the Israelites say, “What is this?” and thus got its name, “manna.”
So that is what we have prayed for. Daily bread. Manna. And God has been gracious to us and given us exactly what we need. He has indeed given us our daily bread… and not a lot more.
This isn’t the first time that we have lived with this kind of reliance on God. Belize was similar. There were days we would literally have bread for our meals. One Sunday evening Beth and I were stressing about our visas, which were due the next day. Our bank account was in the negative, which is where it was most of the time while we were in Belize, and we owed the Belizean government $250 USD if we wanted to stay in the country. We had no way of paying it Sunday morning. Sunday evening we got a knock on the door and the church leaders handed us an envelope and said this was all of the money they received in the offering Sunday morning… It was $250 USD. God has given us what we need and will continue to give us what we need.
So why do I still get antsy?
This summer at Hume has been special for so many reasons. I am certain I will share more over the coming months. One of the blessings we had while we were there was to sit in and listen to some world-class speakers in the Hume Teaching Series every evening. The Lord spoke some amazing things in those teachings. But as each week passed I would think about how close we were to getting back to real-life with real-life responsibilities ahead of us. You know, rent. And the closer we got to the end of summer, the more my mind would move past summer to those real life responsibilities.
One particular teaching stands out as poignant. And it was at the end of the lesson. Not even a main point, just a quick little jab that I didn’t see coming and hit me right in the nose.
Psalm 131:2
“Instead I have calmed and quieted myself, like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk. Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
The weaned child did not speak to me. But the speaker asked us what an unweaned baby is like. Crying for food. Looking for mom. The unweaned baby thinks, “I’m hungry now, my mom isn’t here now, she will never be here again, I will never eat again, I will starve.” After I got some tissue for my bloody nose, I realized how much I am like an unweaned baby. So quick to forget my father who gives me what I need. Just because I don’t always feel Him here with me doesn’t mean He is absent, unaware, and unconcerned with my needs. He will provide for me again and I will not go without. In fact, I lack nothing.
The following week, as I was icing my nose, there were several crying babies around camp… sometimes it was me… and then I would hear an actual baby cry and be reminded that my God is my provider and sustainer. He gives good gifts, and even when He withholds, I can trust His goodness. I believe this to be true. Sometimes I need God to help my unbelief.
I will never be able to hear a baby cry the same way again.
