Hungry

This morning, Father, make us hungry. I ask for the insides of us to rumble and growl to be fed. I ask that we be satisfied with only your manna—only the food that feeds the eternal parts of us.

Father, I am hungry. But.

Constantly I feed the hole of my mouth with junk. With food that is nothing more than fillers and calories. And I am talking about physically and spiritually. We both know this truth. I try to ignore what I am doing. I try to disguise it as I need time. I need rest. I need space. I need some buffer room.

What I (we) really need is you. I know this to be true in my head. I know this in my mental matrixes, but I crave and long for things that are immediate. Things that supply what seems to be on-the-spot satisfaction. Just as I walk through the kitchen and reach for a snack even though I am not hungry I reach for things in my spirit that fill but do not satisfy.

Father, through the psalmist you exhorted us to open wide your mouth and I will fill it. There is a promise there. There is promise. When we come to you to be fed we will be satisfied.

But, God, I tend to be so much like the Israelites. I see your manna spread out on the grasses like dew in the morning—glistening and sweet, but I feel the longings for leeks and onions and garlic rise up in me. They are loud and incessant in their demand of attention from me. These are all flavorings. They are all savors meant to add to our food, not be our food. And we roll manna around on our tongues and swallow hard because it seems so bland, so plain.

How do we learn that leeks, onions and garlic will not sustain us. These will not lengthen and strengthen our muscles. They will not provide nutrients necessary for the total health of our bodies.

But manna does.

Father, change my cravings. Change the palette of my appetite. Help me to long for what is good for me.  Enable me to assess my hunger and open my mouth wide for you to fill it with the richest of food and the best of wine. Your words says that is what you will do.

But we live like we don’t believe you. And we snitch and sneak the chocolate and the onions and the garlic and ask for quail because we don’t believe you will offer us the richest of fare. We have been conditioned to believe what you offer us will sustain us, but not satisfy us. What you offer will feed us, but not please the cravings.

No, we live like all you are going to offer is bread and water. But we forget…oh how we forget that your Son was the living bread. And he turned water to wine. Wine so rich, so smooth and so good that it was declared the best wine tasted at the wedding.

Why, oh why, God do we believe you did those things then, but have ceased to do them now.

Come, turn our water to wine. Come change our stale, dry crackers into living bread.

In the precious, beautiful name of Jesus.

Amen and amen