Sometimes the story just writes itself around you and you don’t even know it’s happening. Then one day, you smell that heavenly aroma and it all comes back.
There’s nothing quite like it – that smell of a freshly baked loaf of bread. You may try to break it all down to science and molecules, but I will fight you to the end over it. That smell is pure magic. It communicates all the things in one whiff – comfort, provision, nourishment. It somehow symbolizes everything we need – physically and emotionally.
And there she stood over that counter – kneading the dough. My amazing mom – faithfully providing for her family. I saw the picture this week and it all came rushing back to me. There was no Walmart in the steamy jungles of Liberia – there was simply flour, water, and her hands. So she kneaded that dough, she baked the loaves, and we ate that bread. Day after day, week after week. It nourished our bodies then – and today it nourishes my soul.
I think about those frantic Israelite mothers in Egypt – the time comes to go, and what do they do? They grab their bread, some just had dough, and flee Egypt for the Promised Land. Those children would eat, because their mom packed the bread! As a child, there is so much comfort in that – so much security knowing that you will be cared for.
There is another bread – one that is offered at the altar in the Tabernacle throughout the Israelite’s wanderings in the desert. And later in the Temple in Jerusalem – throughout the history of the Israelite people, The Bread of the Presence has served as a symbol that acknowledged God as life and nourishment.
Hundreds of years later, Jesus held bread. And broke it. And fed 5,000 people with only 2 loaves. He never runs out, does He?
And then come these astonishing words: “Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” John 6:35
Can we all get back to that simple place once again? The place of a child who needs nourishment as simple as bread? Bread that satisfies to the fullest. Bread that comforts and nourishes. Bread that heals all our brokenness. Bread that feeds all our needs – physical and emotional. Bread that never runs out.
I just wanted to pretend that it hadn’t happened. It was just one of those days you want to forget. You know – wake up to a brand new day and forget all the yesterday that had gone before?
It’s not that anything significantly bad happened. I just couldn’t keep it at bay anymore. All the emotions that had been piling up – all the cumulative news of loss on top of the personal pains we all carry. It just got to be more than I could tamp down anymore. The frustration, the confusion – all the unnamed emotions that you manage to ignore most of the time came bubbling unbidden to the surface. We’ve all had these days that just feel engulfed in sadness – and if you’re anything like me, you can’t wait for the day to end so you can shake it off and start over tomorrow. Yeah – it was one of those days.
The next morning came – the birds were singing and the sun was shining and I was glad. I sat down with my coffee, my Bible, and my journal – thankful to start a new day.
Free of all that gloom. Until I felt that nudge on my heart – that gentle voice of His Spirit telling me He wasn’t done with yesterday. I had more to do.
It was like He was asking me to take another look. Don’t just shove it down again and try to distract yourself with the newest brightest thing to come your way. Don’t pretend those feelings aren’t there and will just go away if you ignore them. Stop. Look. Take it in for a minute.
So I sat there in the quiet of the morning. That precious silence that doesn’t last long. Me, my coffee, and Jesus. I looked back and let it back in – all those dark things I wanted to shake off. And then this happened – and it has made all the difference.
I felt Him directing me to shift my eyes over – and I caught my breath. He called me to behold HIM. To hold the darkness up in the light of HIS glory, His wonder, His majesty. And right there, in the dawn of the new day, I knew He was there with me. And the more I saw of Him, the more that big wall of pain shrunk as His beauty engulfed it. The more I tasted of His realness, the more I wanted of it. ““Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him” Psalm 34:8
“What, then, is the God I worship?.. You, my God,, are supreme, utmost in goodness, mightiest and all-powerful, most merciful and most just. You are the most hidden from us and yet the most present amongst us, the most beautiful and yet the most strong, ever enduring and yet we cannot comprehend you. You are unchangeable and yet you change all things. You are never new, never old, and yet all things have new life from you. You are the unseen power that brings decline upon the proud. You are ever active, yet always at rest. You gather all things to yourself, though you suffer no need. You support, you fill, and you protect all things. You create them, nourish them, and bring them to perfection. You seek to make them your own, though you lack for nothing. You love your creatures, but with a gentle love. You treasure them, but without apprehension… You can be angry and yet serene. Your works are varied, but your purpose is one and the same. You welcome all who come to you, though you never lost them. You are never in need yet are glad to gain, never covetous yet you exact a return for your gifts… You release us from our debts, but you lose nothing thereby. You are my God, my Life, my Holy Delight, but is this enough to say of you? – St. Augustine
This chasing after His glory… it never gets boring and never ends. Like the back wall of that wardrobe leading to Narnia – we can live in the mundane of the world we have come to expect – or we can reach through that wardrobe wall to the wonder of the God who made it all!
I hear the embattled Apostle Paul whisper in my ear, “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” – 2 Corinthians 4:17
and David declaring, “Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the abundance of your house; You give them drink from Your river of delights. For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light” Ps 35:7-10
Come along with me through the wardrobe – I’m going to be putting my discoveries right here for the next month – why not join on in? Let His glory engulf your sorrows, your confusion, your raw emotions and just breathe in His goodness that is all around.
“In such holy wonders, baptize our imaginations, that we might ever be a people shaped by awe at your eternal power, and a people moved to worship by revelations of your divine nature. Awaken our hearts now to beat in rhythm to the dance of your creation. Tune our ears to hear the songs of stars in their trillion-fold choruses, bearing witness to your glory, your power.” Douglas McKelvey
I had to run out for a couple minutes today, so I grabbed the old car that gets parked under a tree, swept away the mountain of leaves that the weekend had left us, and hit the road.
As I rounded the corner, I gasped a little, because the sun hit my windshield and there, glowing like the most brilliant artwork, were imprints of all the leaves that had piled up on my windshield.
Imprints … stick with me for a minute.
Because then I saw the darker less artistic splotches – you know, those that the friendly neighborhood birds had deposited alongside those beautiful leaves. And it made me ask myself – what sort of imprints am I leaving behind? In the middle of this pandemic and social unrest? The day before a highly contentious election? How about the day after said election?
What do you see when the sun (Son) reflects off my life? We don’t get to choose many of our circumstances – but we do get to choose what we do with them.
We all leave a trails behind us – may ours be filled with beauty and grace and wonder