Bread
I have always had a love/hate relationship with bread. When I was a kid, I had cold lunch nearly every day. My lunch consisted of a sandwich, a fruit, and a juice box. Probably some crackers thrown in there for good measure, but the staples were always the same. In our house, bread was brown. Sometimes, it even had seeds. I severely dislike brown bread, and bread with seeds comes dangerously close to hate. Throughout my childhood, I would tell myself, when I'm an adult, I'm going to have WHITE bread. White, bleached, squishy Wonder Bread. Naturally, I was diagnosed with Celiac's Disease in April of my senior year of high school. Happily, I can never eat brown bread again! Sadly, I have never been able to experience my Wonder Bread dream. Even today, I rarely eat bread. If you've had gluten-free bread, you understand. Lately, however, I've been thinking a lot about bread.
Throughout the Bible, "bread" makes several appearances. In the Old Testament book of Exodus, the Israelites are being held captive in Egypt. They are slaves of the Pharaoh. Moses, God's reluctant mouthpiece, has repeatedly pleaded with the Pharaoh to let his people go so they can worship the Lord. Pharaoh repeatedly says no. Starting in Exodus chapter 7, God sends plagues on the Egyptians. After each plague, Moses goes to plead freedom from Pharaoh. Plagues of blood, frogs, gnats, flies, dead livestock, boils, hail, locusts, and darkness; Pharaoh didn't budge an inch. The final plague was the most severe, the most painful. The final plague was the Plague on the Firstborn, where the firstborn male child of every family died, including Pharoah's son. The Israelites were instructed to paint their doorpost with blood (from a year-old male lamb without any defect). The households that had blood painted on the doorposts were, literally, passed over by the Angel of Death. The entire account of Passover is in Exodus 12, but, for the purposes of this writing, I'll skip to the part where Pharaoh summons Moses and Aaron in the middle of the night and tells them to get out. Be gone. Take your people and get lost. Preferably yesterday. So they did. Israel fled to the desert, with God leading their way to the Promised Land. Unfortunately, Israel had this amazing ability to forget/ignore/become complacent with God. Sure, God had spared their firstborn sons, freed them from Pharaoh, and parted the Red Sea at flood stage (and then un-parted it when the Egyptian army was smack in the middle). Cool stories, but, we're hungry. Big hunger sharks. Colossal 'I'm-so-hungry-that-we-should-have-just-stayed-slaves-in-Egypt-because-at-least-we-had-food-to-eat' hunger sharks. This is where I see the "slow to anger" part of God's nature. I would have totally zotted every single one of their hungry, whiney selves right off the Earth. However, thankfully, I'm not God. Instead, God provided manna. In Exodus chapter 16, it says, "The Lord said to Moses, 'I have heard the grumbling of the Israelites. Tell them, 'At twilight you will eat meat and in the morning you will be filled with bread. Then you will know that I am the Lord your God.'" (v. 11-12) The bread that God supplied was thin flakes of white coriander seeds, that tasted like wafers of honey. It appeared every morning (except the Sabbath) and as the day progressed, it melted. Each person was allotted a specific amount, and, if you ignored the amount (remember, it is God giving the instructions here), the extra amount turned to maggots. On the sixth day, they were able to gather a double portion that did last until the next day, so they could keep the Sabbath. Due to a series of (more) missteps, the Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years. For every single one of those 40 years, God provided the manna for his people. Every. Single. Day. (except the Sabbath)
Fast forward about 1,300 years, and the Israelites have still not been able to break their cycle of forget and regret (forgetting the goodness and holiness of God, and then expressing regret for their forgetting, repenting, but then forgetting again...and the cycle continues). Enter Jesus. Jesus has some great moments with bread. In Luke 4, Jesus is in the desert for 40 days and 40 nights (remind you of anyone?) Having fasted for the entire 40 days, he's pretty hungry (understatement of the century). Satan, because he's Satan, tells Jesus to turn the stones in front of him into bread. Reason number 8,253 why I am most definitely not God: when Satan taunts a starving Jesus to turn the stones into bread if he really is the Son of God, Jesus simply quotes the Hebrew Scriptures (and doesn't turn anything into anything.) Totally shuts Satan down. In Luke 9, he feeds five thousand (plus) people with five loaves of bread and two fish. This was, very literally, a little boy's bag lunch. Five loaves of bread (not a Costco-size loaf of bread, think more of a homemade loaf of bread) and two small fishes. The Bible makes it clear in verse 17 that this is not one of those dinners where you eat just enough to be polite, but not so much as to seem greedy (like meeting your in-laws for the first time). No, it says that everyone was satisfied, and there were still 12 baskets of leftovers. There wasn't even 12 baskets to begin with! Later, he does a repeat performance of gastronomic miracles when he feeds four thousand (plus, because in Biblical times, they only counted the men, not the women and children) with seven loaves and a few small fish (Matthew 16). Earlier, in Matthew chapter 6, Jesus is teaching a crowd of people. After covering several topics, he gets to the topic of prayer. Jesus instructs the people to pray to God, 'Our Father' and ask him to give us our daily bread. In other words, we are to ask God to provide daily for our physical needs (bread).
About a month ago, in my daily devotional reading, New Morning Mercies, the author, Paul David Tripp wrote about Jesus being the bread of life. In John 6, beginning in verse 48, Jesus says, "I am the bread of life. Your forefathers ate manna in the desert, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which a man may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world." I'll be honest with you. This is one of those Jesus quotes that, at first blush, appears to go in circles. Not only does it appear to go in circles, but it also talks about eating flesh, which sounds an awful lot like cannibalism. Neither of these things, however, is what has caused me to ponder this idea of bread for the last month. Rather, what has been spinning around in my brain is the contrast between the different kinds of bread.
Bread is food; sustenance. Our bodies require sustenance. God designed them this way. As humans, we must eat in order to live, yet, 'bread' is temporary. In order for food to be effective, it must be continually consumed. I can't eat 'bread' on Monday and expect to still reap the nutritional benefits on Friday. My earthly body, my physical body, requires a daily infusion of 'bread' to keep living. While originally designed to be eternal (thank you Adam and Eve), my physical body is now temporary. 'Bread' is the temporary solution to sustain my temporary physical body throughout my temporary life. Think about it, God could have created manna that lasted for the entire 40 years of the Israelites exile in the desert. He didn't, though. God gave the Israelites manna that lasted for a short time (hours), then melted in the desert sun. The Israelites, God's chosen people, his beloved tribe, were utterly and completely dependent upon God to provide them their daily 'bread'. And he did. God cares about our physical needs. This is why Jesus included the part about asking for our daily bread in what we call "The Lord's Prayer." The thing about Jesus is, while he told a lot of parables and stories, every single word was on purpose. If he said something, he meant to say it. When he taught his followers, the lessons were strategic. The Lord's Prayer is a lesson; it is an outline for how to pray. One of the points of this outline was to ask God for our daily bread, our daily provision.
Throughout my life, I've struggled with the notion that God truly cares about the minutae of my life. He's GOD. Speak the word and the world comes into being GOD. Me? I'm Katy. I'm as human as they come. I care about the minutae of my life, well, because it's my life. But God? Waaayyy bigger things to take care of than the small details of Katy's life. In my heart and in my mind, there was always this wrestling: I know what I read about God, what I believe about God, but, is he really willing to make himself small enough to care and intervene at the smallest of levels? My human skepticism, fraility, and shortcomings would say, no. There's probably some things in this world I'm just going to have to worry about myself, and therefore, take care of myself. Then I read in Matthew 6:26: "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not more valuable than they?" It is Jesus speaking these words. Jesus, the Son of God, is telling his followers that God does care about the little things, and he is intimately involved in the minutae of life. Look at the end of that verse: "...Are you not more valuable than they?" How valuable am I to God? God allowed his very own Son, Jesus, to die on my behalf for all the wrongs I have ever committed and will ever commit so that I might spend an eternity with Him. I have eternal value to God. If he takes care of the birds of the air, you better believe he will take care of me.
At this juncture, I am going to hit pause and say something that is weighing on my heart. There is a significant difference between God caring about my daily needs and providing my daily needs and what I think my daily needs are and should be. I say this often, but it bears repeating: I AM NOT GOD. My perception of what is good, necessary, desirable, and expected is ridiculously warped. It is warped by sin, which permeates every facet of my existence. My brain doesn't know how to view the world with God's eyes. I do not naturally desire the things of God. Hence the reason I need a whole lot of Jesus and a whole lot of grace. God answering my prayers in a way that is different from what I wanted/desired does not mean he didn't answer my prayer. When God's provision looks different from how I imagined it, that simply confirms that I don't have the mind of God. He knows what is best for me. Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." What is the good that God works for? It is anything that causes me to become further conformed to the likeness of his Son, Jesus. In other words, when God is working for my 'good', he is working to make me more like Jesus. Considering that Jesus was the greatest human being who ever lived, I'm actually pretty flattered that God wants me to continue to be conformed to the likeness of the GOAT.
I want to share a deeply personal story to illustrate just how much I believe God cares for our smallest needs. To fully appreciate the story, I have to share a little bit about that man I married, my Andrew. Anyone who truly knew Andrew understood that there were two sides to him: the joking, pranking, eye-roll-inducingly immature, and funny guy, and the deep intellectual, tortured by his own thoughts. Most people only saw the first guy. I'll never forget one of the first times he met my mother. He told her a joke (side note: this is his joke, not mine...but if you've met my mom, you can understand the utter hilarity of the situation). It went: "What do you call two Mexicans peeing by the side of the road?" "Jose [Hose A] and Hose B." My mom burst out laughing in a laugh ususally reserved for preschool soccer games and retellings of childhood embarrassing moments. When referring to his hair (or lack thereof), Andrew would say, "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away." This was the side of Andrew that I needed. It was, basically, the opposite of how I approach people and life, and it made for a great combination of personalities. And a ridiculous amount of eye rolls.
The side of Andrew that not many saw was his deep and intellectual side. He was a thinker, not just because he had OCD. He would read books on theology, grace, forgiveness, salvation, and the Christian life. These weren't the fluffy kind you would get from Barnes and Noble. He read Henri Nouwen, Brennan Manning, Bill Gillham, Dallas Willard, Phillip Yancey, and more. He would have weekly meetings with his mentor, and they would go through apologetics, and in-depth studies of individual books of the Bible. Yes, much of Andrew's reading and study was in a desperate pursuit to provide himself with assurance of his salvation. His OCD never let him have that. Still, he would read, and write in a little steno notebook, and read some more.
Andrew also listened to music constantly. Specifically, he listened to Hillsong (a group out of Australia.) I used to tease him that the lead singer of the Hillsong Worship group was his "girlfriend". One day, he played a song for me that he found on youtube. The song is called, "Grace to Grace." This song touched his heart in a way no other song had. He referred to it as his and God's "wedding song". This would be the song that would be playing in Heaven when he met Jesus. There is not a doubt in my mind that this is what the Heavenly chorus was singing when Andrew sat on the lap of Father God, who Andrew referred to as "Daddy".
In February of 2019, after 5 years of being at the same church, it became clear that it was time for us to move on. Andrew had been deeply wounded in a small group Bible Study, and he couldn't stay in a church and a group that would treat him that way. Neither could I. We tried a church that weekend that we enjoyed. They had Paw Patrol characters and free Culvers ice cream that week, so our kids loved it. We attended for a couple months, however, the church didn't yet have a building of its own, and there was this feeling that we needed...to keep looking. Knowing this was a church plant, I looked up the original "sending" church (i.e. the church that sponsored the church plant). As it turns out, the sending church was located not too far from us, and they had a recovery ministry. In Andrew's words, they embrace screw-ups, so they might let us in.
In early May (I think it was maybe Mother's Day, even) we went to this church. We were late to the service, (like a lot of parents...let's be honest.) and we walked in as they were praying after the first song. The prayer finished, and the band began playing the intro to the next song. Both Andrew and I stopped cold, and looked up at the screen where the lyrics were posted. This next song was "Grace to Grace". Not only had we never been to a church where they played this song, we didn't sing this song again in a worship service during the rest of Andrew's life. Regardless, in that moment, we were standing in this holy place of worship singing Andrew's favorite song, the song that drew him into the presence of his "Daddy". When the song was finished, Andrew turned to me and said, "I think this is the church."
Later that same week, Andrew met the Senior Pastor for coffee. He wanted to talk to Pastor Joe about his salvation, but also lay out some of his "shortcomings" and see if this church and congregation was a safe place. Sadly, Andrew had been rejected so many times in his life that he no longer wanted to invest in something that would end up hurting him more. It broke my heart to see that, but, knowing his past hurts, I understood completely. At some point in this conversation, Pastor Joe looked at Andrew and asked him, (in reference to his relationship with God) "Who's your Daddy?" Daddy. God the Father as Daddy. The very spiritual truth that Andrew spent hours pondering and developing in his head. When Andrew came home, it was no longer 'I think'. Grace Fellowship, this is the church.
Over the next six months, we got minimally involved (I mean, I ended up leading the preschool VBS group, but it was mostly because there were three high school girls in charge of 25 three- and four-year-olds. My usurping the group was more catastrophe prevention, really.) The church was beginning an intensive small group study in the fall, however, when it came time to sign up, Andrew wasn't doing well, and a weekly commitment wasn't something we could make. So, we continued to attend on Sundays. Andrew and Pastor Joe continuted to meet several times, and I'm confident that both considered each other a trusted friend. When Andrew died, there was no question in my mind of who should preach at the funeral. While I remember very little from the funeral, I do recall feeling blessed and at peace with the words Pastor Joe spoke.
Fast forward a couple of months, and, at church, I ran into Pastor Joe's wife in the commons. We spoke briefly, and she invited me to join their small group. She assured me I wouldn't feel awkward coming into the group, as most of them had been praying for me since November (read: I wouldn't have to tell my story or explain why I was there alone). Bonus, they met at church and had childcare. Sign me up.
After a couple false starts (one epic meltdown by one of my kids, and one awful case of the stomach flu that turned into Influenza B), I finally made it to one of the meetings. This group was friendly, irreverent, full of laughter and obvious care for one another. Honestly, I felt like these were people I might actually be friends with in real life. Moreover, I felt like Andrew would have fit in to this group, and he would have felt welcome. At the time, that was hugely important to me. It still is. My spiritual growth, relationship, and perspective has been indelliby shaped by my marriage to Andrew, and the experiences he had (and we had). My story and my grief was honored in this place. My wedding anniversary, the first without Andrew, fell on a group night, and they brought balloons to honor the day and gave me a card. I found out that seveal of them had brought me meals after Andrew passed. I didn't even know these people, but they were showing me love. Even though that thing called COVID stopped us meeting in person a short time later, I was already invested.
Over nine months before Andrew died, God knew that I was going to need these people. He knew that I was going to need friends, and Gospel friends at that. He put into place the circumstances that led our little family to this church, and, by extension to this group of people. I have been a part of this group for only six months. Yet, when my son's coat broke (the 2nd winter coat to lose a zipper that winter), and there was only a few weeks left in winter, one of my group members dropped off a coat for him to wear. And it was Spiderman. This same friend has dropped off ready-made meals for my kids, and checked in to see if I needed things at the store. Her husband came to my house on a Sunday morning and mowed my lawn (and weed whipped it). The self-propel feature on my mower was broken (which I did not know), so he had to really heft that lawn mower around, but he didn't say a word. He just showed up and helped care for my family. The men of the small group got their "Dude Crew" together and did some large yard projects for me. The moms and I have been to the beach and gotten our kids together to play. From these people, I have seen the goodness, faithfulness, and care of God. None of it was grandiose. Its all been minutae. It's all been the small stuff. And it's all been the work and care of God.
"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of theese. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given unto you as well. Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." - Matthew 6:28-34 (NIV, emphasis mine)
"When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set into place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?
You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.
You made him ruler over the works of your hands;
you put everything under his feet,
all flocks and herds,
and the beasts of the field,
the birds of the air,
and the fish of the sea,
all that swim the paths of the sea.
O Lord, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!" - Psalm 8:3-9 (NIV)
I'm not done with bread...well, I am (literally...so not worth it), but I'm not. There's so much more about this idea of bread in the Bible, but that is for another day. "Give us this day our daily bread..." Thank you, Jesus, that you answer this prayer every time!
Throughout the Bible, "bread" makes several appearances. In the Old Testament book of Exodus, the Israelites are being held captive in Egypt. They are slaves of the Pharaoh. Moses, God's reluctant mouthpiece, has repeatedly pleaded with the Pharaoh to let his people go so they can worship the Lord. Pharaoh repeatedly says no. Starting in Exodus chapter 7, God sends plagues on the Egyptians. After each plague, Moses goes to plead freedom from Pharaoh. Plagues of blood, frogs, gnats, flies, dead livestock, boils, hail, locusts, and darkness; Pharaoh didn't budge an inch. The final plague was the most severe, the most painful. The final plague was the Plague on the Firstborn, where the firstborn male child of every family died, including Pharoah's son. The Israelites were instructed to paint their doorpost with blood (from a year-old male lamb without any defect). The households that had blood painted on the doorposts were, literally, passed over by the Angel of Death. The entire account of Passover is in Exodus 12, but, for the purposes of this writing, I'll skip to the part where Pharaoh summons Moses and Aaron in the middle of the night and tells them to get out. Be gone. Take your people and get lost. Preferably yesterday. So they did. Israel fled to the desert, with God leading their way to the Promised Land. Unfortunately, Israel had this amazing ability to forget/ignore/become complacent with God. Sure, God had spared their firstborn sons, freed them from Pharaoh, and parted the Red Sea at flood stage (and then un-parted it when the Egyptian army was smack in the middle). Cool stories, but, we're hungry. Big hunger sharks. Colossal 'I'm-so-hungry-that-we-should-have-just-stayed-slaves-in-Egypt-because-at-least-we-had-food-to-eat' hunger sharks. This is where I see the "slow to anger" part of God's nature. I would have totally zotted every single one of their hungry, whiney selves right off the Earth. However, thankfully, I'm not God. Instead, God provided manna. In Exodus chapter 16, it says, "The Lord said to Moses, 'I have heard the grumbling of the Israelites. Tell them, 'At twilight you will eat meat and in the morning you will be filled with bread. Then you will know that I am the Lord your God.'" (v. 11-12) The bread that God supplied was thin flakes of white coriander seeds, that tasted like wafers of honey. It appeared every morning (except the Sabbath) and as the day progressed, it melted. Each person was allotted a specific amount, and, if you ignored the amount (remember, it is God giving the instructions here), the extra amount turned to maggots. On the sixth day, they were able to gather a double portion that did last until the next day, so they could keep the Sabbath. Due to a series of (more) missteps, the Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years. For every single one of those 40 years, God provided the manna for his people. Every. Single. Day. (except the Sabbath)
Fast forward about 1,300 years, and the Israelites have still not been able to break their cycle of forget and regret (forgetting the goodness and holiness of God, and then expressing regret for their forgetting, repenting, but then forgetting again...and the cycle continues). Enter Jesus. Jesus has some great moments with bread. In Luke 4, Jesus is in the desert for 40 days and 40 nights (remind you of anyone?) Having fasted for the entire 40 days, he's pretty hungry (understatement of the century). Satan, because he's Satan, tells Jesus to turn the stones in front of him into bread. Reason number 8,253 why I am most definitely not God: when Satan taunts a starving Jesus to turn the stones into bread if he really is the Son of God, Jesus simply quotes the Hebrew Scriptures (and doesn't turn anything into anything.) Totally shuts Satan down. In Luke 9, he feeds five thousand (plus) people with five loaves of bread and two fish. This was, very literally, a little boy's bag lunch. Five loaves of bread (not a Costco-size loaf of bread, think more of a homemade loaf of bread) and two small fishes. The Bible makes it clear in verse 17 that this is not one of those dinners where you eat just enough to be polite, but not so much as to seem greedy (like meeting your in-laws for the first time). No, it says that everyone was satisfied, and there were still 12 baskets of leftovers. There wasn't even 12 baskets to begin with! Later, he does a repeat performance of gastronomic miracles when he feeds four thousand (plus, because in Biblical times, they only counted the men, not the women and children) with seven loaves and a few small fish (Matthew 16). Earlier, in Matthew chapter 6, Jesus is teaching a crowd of people. After covering several topics, he gets to the topic of prayer. Jesus instructs the people to pray to God, 'Our Father' and ask him to give us our daily bread. In other words, we are to ask God to provide daily for our physical needs (bread).
About a month ago, in my daily devotional reading, New Morning Mercies, the author, Paul David Tripp wrote about Jesus being the bread of life. In John 6, beginning in verse 48, Jesus says, "I am the bread of life. Your forefathers ate manna in the desert, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which a man may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world." I'll be honest with you. This is one of those Jesus quotes that, at first blush, appears to go in circles. Not only does it appear to go in circles, but it also talks about eating flesh, which sounds an awful lot like cannibalism. Neither of these things, however, is what has caused me to ponder this idea of bread for the last month. Rather, what has been spinning around in my brain is the contrast between the different kinds of bread.
Bread is food; sustenance. Our bodies require sustenance. God designed them this way. As humans, we must eat in order to live, yet, 'bread' is temporary. In order for food to be effective, it must be continually consumed. I can't eat 'bread' on Monday and expect to still reap the nutritional benefits on Friday. My earthly body, my physical body, requires a daily infusion of 'bread' to keep living. While originally designed to be eternal (thank you Adam and Eve), my physical body is now temporary. 'Bread' is the temporary solution to sustain my temporary physical body throughout my temporary life. Think about it, God could have created manna that lasted for the entire 40 years of the Israelites exile in the desert. He didn't, though. God gave the Israelites manna that lasted for a short time (hours), then melted in the desert sun. The Israelites, God's chosen people, his beloved tribe, were utterly and completely dependent upon God to provide them their daily 'bread'. And he did. God cares about our physical needs. This is why Jesus included the part about asking for our daily bread in what we call "The Lord's Prayer." The thing about Jesus is, while he told a lot of parables and stories, every single word was on purpose. If he said something, he meant to say it. When he taught his followers, the lessons were strategic. The Lord's Prayer is a lesson; it is an outline for how to pray. One of the points of this outline was to ask God for our daily bread, our daily provision.
Throughout my life, I've struggled with the notion that God truly cares about the minutae of my life. He's GOD. Speak the word and the world comes into being GOD. Me? I'm Katy. I'm as human as they come. I care about the minutae of my life, well, because it's my life. But God? Waaayyy bigger things to take care of than the small details of Katy's life. In my heart and in my mind, there was always this wrestling: I know what I read about God, what I believe about God, but, is he really willing to make himself small enough to care and intervene at the smallest of levels? My human skepticism, fraility, and shortcomings would say, no. There's probably some things in this world I'm just going to have to worry about myself, and therefore, take care of myself. Then I read in Matthew 6:26: "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not more valuable than they?" It is Jesus speaking these words. Jesus, the Son of God, is telling his followers that God does care about the little things, and he is intimately involved in the minutae of life. Look at the end of that verse: "...Are you not more valuable than they?" How valuable am I to God? God allowed his very own Son, Jesus, to die on my behalf for all the wrongs I have ever committed and will ever commit so that I might spend an eternity with Him. I have eternal value to God. If he takes care of the birds of the air, you better believe he will take care of me.
At this juncture, I am going to hit pause and say something that is weighing on my heart. There is a significant difference between God caring about my daily needs and providing my daily needs and what I think my daily needs are and should be. I say this often, but it bears repeating: I AM NOT GOD. My perception of what is good, necessary, desirable, and expected is ridiculously warped. It is warped by sin, which permeates every facet of my existence. My brain doesn't know how to view the world with God's eyes. I do not naturally desire the things of God. Hence the reason I need a whole lot of Jesus and a whole lot of grace. God answering my prayers in a way that is different from what I wanted/desired does not mean he didn't answer my prayer. When God's provision looks different from how I imagined it, that simply confirms that I don't have the mind of God. He knows what is best for me. Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." What is the good that God works for? It is anything that causes me to become further conformed to the likeness of his Son, Jesus. In other words, when God is working for my 'good', he is working to make me more like Jesus. Considering that Jesus was the greatest human being who ever lived, I'm actually pretty flattered that God wants me to continue to be conformed to the likeness of the GOAT.
I want to share a deeply personal story to illustrate just how much I believe God cares for our smallest needs. To fully appreciate the story, I have to share a little bit about that man I married, my Andrew. Anyone who truly knew Andrew understood that there were two sides to him: the joking, pranking, eye-roll-inducingly immature, and funny guy, and the deep intellectual, tortured by his own thoughts. Most people only saw the first guy. I'll never forget one of the first times he met my mother. He told her a joke (side note: this is his joke, not mine...but if you've met my mom, you can understand the utter hilarity of the situation). It went: "What do you call two Mexicans peeing by the side of the road?" "Jose [Hose A] and Hose B." My mom burst out laughing in a laugh ususally reserved for preschool soccer games and retellings of childhood embarrassing moments. When referring to his hair (or lack thereof), Andrew would say, "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away." This was the side of Andrew that I needed. It was, basically, the opposite of how I approach people and life, and it made for a great combination of personalities. And a ridiculous amount of eye rolls.
The side of Andrew that not many saw was his deep and intellectual side. He was a thinker, not just because he had OCD. He would read books on theology, grace, forgiveness, salvation, and the Christian life. These weren't the fluffy kind you would get from Barnes and Noble. He read Henri Nouwen, Brennan Manning, Bill Gillham, Dallas Willard, Phillip Yancey, and more. He would have weekly meetings with his mentor, and they would go through apologetics, and in-depth studies of individual books of the Bible. Yes, much of Andrew's reading and study was in a desperate pursuit to provide himself with assurance of his salvation. His OCD never let him have that. Still, he would read, and write in a little steno notebook, and read some more.
Andrew also listened to music constantly. Specifically, he listened to Hillsong (a group out of Australia.) I used to tease him that the lead singer of the Hillsong Worship group was his "girlfriend". One day, he played a song for me that he found on youtube. The song is called, "Grace to Grace." This song touched his heart in a way no other song had. He referred to it as his and God's "wedding song". This would be the song that would be playing in Heaven when he met Jesus. There is not a doubt in my mind that this is what the Heavenly chorus was singing when Andrew sat on the lap of Father God, who Andrew referred to as "Daddy".
In February of 2019, after 5 years of being at the same church, it became clear that it was time for us to move on. Andrew had been deeply wounded in a small group Bible Study, and he couldn't stay in a church and a group that would treat him that way. Neither could I. We tried a church that weekend that we enjoyed. They had Paw Patrol characters and free Culvers ice cream that week, so our kids loved it. We attended for a couple months, however, the church didn't yet have a building of its own, and there was this feeling that we needed...to keep looking. Knowing this was a church plant, I looked up the original "sending" church (i.e. the church that sponsored the church plant). As it turns out, the sending church was located not too far from us, and they had a recovery ministry. In Andrew's words, they embrace screw-ups, so they might let us in.
In early May (I think it was maybe Mother's Day, even) we went to this church. We were late to the service, (like a lot of parents...let's be honest.) and we walked in as they were praying after the first song. The prayer finished, and the band began playing the intro to the next song. Both Andrew and I stopped cold, and looked up at the screen where the lyrics were posted. This next song was "Grace to Grace". Not only had we never been to a church where they played this song, we didn't sing this song again in a worship service during the rest of Andrew's life. Regardless, in that moment, we were standing in this holy place of worship singing Andrew's favorite song, the song that drew him into the presence of his "Daddy". When the song was finished, Andrew turned to me and said, "I think this is the church."
Later that same week, Andrew met the Senior Pastor for coffee. He wanted to talk to Pastor Joe about his salvation, but also lay out some of his "shortcomings" and see if this church and congregation was a safe place. Sadly, Andrew had been rejected so many times in his life that he no longer wanted to invest in something that would end up hurting him more. It broke my heart to see that, but, knowing his past hurts, I understood completely. At some point in this conversation, Pastor Joe looked at Andrew and asked him, (in reference to his relationship with God) "Who's your Daddy?" Daddy. God the Father as Daddy. The very spiritual truth that Andrew spent hours pondering and developing in his head. When Andrew came home, it was no longer 'I think'. Grace Fellowship, this is the church.
Over the next six months, we got minimally involved (I mean, I ended up leading the preschool VBS group, but it was mostly because there were three high school girls in charge of 25 three- and four-year-olds. My usurping the group was more catastrophe prevention, really.) The church was beginning an intensive small group study in the fall, however, when it came time to sign up, Andrew wasn't doing well, and a weekly commitment wasn't something we could make. So, we continued to attend on Sundays. Andrew and Pastor Joe continuted to meet several times, and I'm confident that both considered each other a trusted friend. When Andrew died, there was no question in my mind of who should preach at the funeral. While I remember very little from the funeral, I do recall feeling blessed and at peace with the words Pastor Joe spoke.
Fast forward a couple of months, and, at church, I ran into Pastor Joe's wife in the commons. We spoke briefly, and she invited me to join their small group. She assured me I wouldn't feel awkward coming into the group, as most of them had been praying for me since November (read: I wouldn't have to tell my story or explain why I was there alone). Bonus, they met at church and had childcare. Sign me up.
After a couple false starts (one epic meltdown by one of my kids, and one awful case of the stomach flu that turned into Influenza B), I finally made it to one of the meetings. This group was friendly, irreverent, full of laughter and obvious care for one another. Honestly, I felt like these were people I might actually be friends with in real life. Moreover, I felt like Andrew would have fit in to this group, and he would have felt welcome. At the time, that was hugely important to me. It still is. My spiritual growth, relationship, and perspective has been indelliby shaped by my marriage to Andrew, and the experiences he had (and we had). My story and my grief was honored in this place. My wedding anniversary, the first without Andrew, fell on a group night, and they brought balloons to honor the day and gave me a card. I found out that seveal of them had brought me meals after Andrew passed. I didn't even know these people, but they were showing me love. Even though that thing called COVID stopped us meeting in person a short time later, I was already invested.
Over nine months before Andrew died, God knew that I was going to need these people. He knew that I was going to need friends, and Gospel friends at that. He put into place the circumstances that led our little family to this church, and, by extension to this group of people. I have been a part of this group for only six months. Yet, when my son's coat broke (the 2nd winter coat to lose a zipper that winter), and there was only a few weeks left in winter, one of my group members dropped off a coat for him to wear. And it was Spiderman. This same friend has dropped off ready-made meals for my kids, and checked in to see if I needed things at the store. Her husband came to my house on a Sunday morning and mowed my lawn (and weed whipped it). The self-propel feature on my mower was broken (which I did not know), so he had to really heft that lawn mower around, but he didn't say a word. He just showed up and helped care for my family. The men of the small group got their "Dude Crew" together and did some large yard projects for me. The moms and I have been to the beach and gotten our kids together to play. From these people, I have seen the goodness, faithfulness, and care of God. None of it was grandiose. Its all been minutae. It's all been the small stuff. And it's all been the work and care of God.
"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of theese. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given unto you as well. Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." - Matthew 6:28-34 (NIV, emphasis mine)
"When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set into place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?
You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.
You made him ruler over the works of your hands;
you put everything under his feet,
all flocks and herds,
and the beasts of the field,
the birds of the air,
and the fish of the sea,
all that swim the paths of the sea.
O Lord, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!" - Psalm 8:3-9 (NIV)
I'm not done with bread...well, I am (literally...so not worth it), but I'm not. There's so much more about this idea of bread in the Bible, but that is for another day. "Give us this day our daily bread..." Thank you, Jesus, that you answer this prayer every time!
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