Collecting Manna

It was a year ago about this time that I was feeling the pinch of trying to fill lunch boxes and serve decent meals on a tight budget.  These kinds of things are hard to share publicly sometimes, because I naturally resist people feeling sorry for me as some might, while others might lean towards judging how well I use or don't use resources (like, if we turned the heat down, and wore triple layer socks, wool sweaters and caps we'd all save money on the heating bill...etc. OR, if I went and got a job and worked during the day when kids are in school, maybe we'd have a bit more of a cushion... OR... you fill in the blank).  Lest you have any concern as I share these somewhat personal matters - it was/is an issue of stewardship and budgeting.  We could take a 30 year mortgage instead of a 15 year and life would be a bit easier for us, but debt would be longer.  I do not consider we are 'poor' by any stretch of the imagination.  I've not written much on finances because it's best to keep silent where one has nothing of value to say.  I am not qualified to speak to issues like these, but I can simply share my stories and experience.  We have our lean times and rarely, times of surplus.  I'm sure most anyone of any socio-economic level can relate (I particularly did not use the word 'status' there, in case you missed that).  Implementing a budget - even an unrealistic one, as I feel ours is somewhat - is painstaking and requires determination and discipline - two things that I was not born naturally possessing and have not done well to nurture with the raw material that I am.  But with that difficulty, as a Christian, there is always an invitation to something deeper.  When it comes to provision, I am invited to do what I can do to work within a budget, and to recognize that ultimately, budget or not, I (and our family) are entirely dependent on the provision of God for all we need - physical, emotional and spiritual.  Hence, Manna.  (I'll explain in a bit).

As with most things that are bugging me, or of concern to me, I mull them over with God figuring He hears my thoughts and concerns.  And last year around this time, I was kind of unburdening myself, telling God, 'This is no fun.  I am tired of budgets and stringent-ness, and discipline.  I want it to be easy.  I've learned enough patience already.'  This is what my 'oh so spiritual' prayer-life looks like: me saying it like it is.  And waiting.  And listening.

I didn't hear a voice from the sky.  No, we didn't win the lottery (which we've never played).  No, nothing immediately miraculous occurred.  I told God how I felt and then I started to observe the previous few months.  It had felt dry spiritually - like nothing was happening.  I, like anyone running a household of 9 people, had gotten dragged into the doing, doing, doing of life and was growing weary and parched in my soul.  I am not the type to thrive on the doing.  I crave stillness, silence, depth (I'm sure depth can happen for busy/doing types too - just it doesn't much for me).  I didn't have much space in my life to nourish my soul.  And God is with us in those times too.  Surely, He always invites us to 'Be still and know that I am God.'  And we may say, 'Not just now...' Either way, this does not nullify His grace.  My prayer that day ended with reflecting on how God meets my every need and I haven't been paying attention to it for months!  I determined to open my eyes to see His provision every day.  And then the Manna stories began.

They poured in.

Every.

Single.

Day.

So much that Andrew would say at supper, "Is this another Manna story?"

What am I talking about?

Manna: the flaky stuff God sent from the sky to feed His helpless, wandering people, when they had nothing to eat and were faced with starvation and extinction.  This is one of those magical, fantastical stories kids learn in Sunday school.  It's one of those miraculous ongoing events (lasting decades, actually), that those without faith scoff at and remark on the foolishness of those who believe.  I'll grant that, through faithless eyes, these stories are incredulous and beg to be mocked.

I use to the word 'Manna' to represent a way in which God met our needs - whether they be physical, emotional or spiritual.

This can be controversial even in theological Christian circles: Does God interact with us like this today?  Isn't the fact we have 'free will' mean we need to harness the power of our own lives and effect all the change we want to see?  (And, even the use of the term 'free will' invites a whole other debate that I won't even get into here - and yes, I understand free will was lost in the fall of man, blah blah blah - insert pet theological discussion here).  And I'll grant these are valid questions and challenges.  But I'm living my life over here, so I'll let theologians duke it out in their ivory towers.

I'll walk by faith, even in the minute particulars of the day-to-day.  Because, you see, I don't need to grow in reliance on Him - I merely need to grow in seeing how dependent I already am on all He is, and all He does.  Sometimes spiritual leaders broadcast our need to 'let go and let God' when in fact, I believe, we need to actually, 'Open our eyes and see God.'  My Manna stories have been all about seeing the ways God steps into my path and speaks: You have no idea of the storehouse of my goodness.

I would share these stories at supper-time: Hey, kids, I got manna today - wanna hear?  And they would sit amazed.  Then one of them said, 'Wait, this is going on every day!  These are great stories!  I don't want to forget them!  Write them down!'  So I started to list them - not the telling of them - just a one sentence summary of the event.

I started to dabble in what I meant by Manna.  Was it merely physical provision?  No - there was a whole section of manna stories that had to do with my emotional and spiritual needs.  Here's one:

I was berating myself for not being a great, organized, on top of it all, together, disciplined, Mom.  I had gotten to school late, again.  I was driving home and apologizing to God for the mess I felt I was.  'I'm just no good.  I can't get it together.  How come I'm such a lame-o?'  And of course, in the midst of my 'woe-is-me'/'I suck' wailing, I'm also criticizing myself for not being more positive and how interior whining like this is not helpful.  So I'm like, 'Lord! I can't even properly evaluate myself without getting tangled into all the shoulds.' My eyes actually filled with tears at this point and I pulled up to a stoplight.  At that moment, I looked up from the steering wheel and saw the license plate ahead of me which read: 'GUD JOB'

Coincidence?

At that moment I felt like God was my cheerleader.

That's what I mean when I talk about Manna.

There was a needful moment, and God showed up.

Manna only lasted the day it was collected - like fireworks that explode with uncontainable energy - manna was not something the people could save for future occasions.  They had to learn the discipline of looking to God every single day for what they would need to eat - to survive.  They also had to go out and collect it.  They had to have eyes to see - a desire to look - a hunger that fueled the search.

Soul-hunger is what drives my eyes to look above.

His provision plentifully falls from the sky.

This week alone I already have 5 stories of unusual provision.  I'll start sharing some of them here in the coming days.


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