The realities of this world seem to continually tell me otherwise. The world beats on our souls, and it's exhausting.
Sometimes, I want more. More than the presence of God? Yes, I confess. Sometimes I want some of that life that has been apportioned to others. The life I expected to live. The life where I have small struggles but not big ones; the life where my husband is not in pain every day.
But part of why I sometimes heretically think that God doesn't seem like enough is because our experience of God's presence in this life is sometimes so paltry, so devoid of sustenance and nutrition, we barely have strength to stumble forward a few more steps.
I know in my head, he is all. He is Provider, Sustainer, the One who knows and loves us intimately, the One who went to unfathomable extremes to make us his.
For the LORD's portion is his people, Jacob his allotted inheritance. In a desert land he found him, in a barren and howling waste. He shielded him and cared for him; he guarded him as the apple of his eye…~ Deuteronomy 32:9-10
“I am to be the only inheritance the priests have. You are to give them no possession in Israel; I will be their possession.”~ Ezekiel 44:28
When God gave the Promised Land over to the Israelites, he apportioned the land to eleven of the twelve tribes. The Levitical tribe received no land; the Lord was to be their inheritance, their portion. They served in the tabernacle, later the temple, and from them the priests were chosen. Now, the believer carries on the priesthood (1 Peter 2:9), and we are his temple, and God is our portion.
|The Bread of Life...|
Sounds ludicrous, doesn't it? But we have an inheritance of infinitely higher value that we sometimes mistakenly treat much the same.
In the past, I assumed that if God didn't seem very real, if he didn't seem to be helping me, if he didn't seem to be providing--then he must not really care. I turned a blind eye to his Word, my very sustenance, to his immense demonstration of his love for us in Christ. How can I seriously think that God went to all that effort to save us, only to not care now? Only to have "wandering eyes," looking for someone else to love?
It's a lie.
And it's a battleground. And we need to engage in the battle. If we are starving for God, for his love, for his presence to carry us through a time that we can't see any way of making it through--then it's a mercy that we see this. God is not only all I need--he is what I need more than I recognize. But he gives me glimpses through the trials in my life, that I need him more. And when I know that and start to rely on him, start to lean hard into his shoulder and loving embrace--he shows me I need him more. He is the Bread of Life, the Vine we draw our life-blood from, the Shepherd who continues to pursue us every time we wander off and wonder, where is there food? He is our food.