I did the math this morning: An Israelite wandering in the desert would have eaten 1,095 meals of manna a year. That’s 5,475 manna-meals in five years; 27,375 in 25 years. You don’t want to know the numbers for 40.
In all that plenty, God provided just enough food for the day and no more, exactly when it was needed and no earlier. It would drive me nuts. I personally need–oh, all right, I strongly prefer–advance planning, a few reserve supplies, and variety.
Yes, I would have whined.
Thinking about this made me realize is that my idea of what I need is far more extensive than what’s actually necessary. Often when I pray for my daily bread what I have in mind is something like a warm, crunchy baguette.
I want my daily bread and something tasty and fattening to dip it in. Or I’m thinking about flour and yeast so I can make my own dough and have others admire my industriousness.
It takes a major mental realignment to pray for what I need, just enough and no more, exactly when I need it and no earlier. I have to wrestle to accept that God’s idea of “just enough” may not be the same as mine.
Deep down, I don’t want to learn to be content with less than I yearn for. Which is why, I suppose, that abundance must wait until after I have grasped that what I need more than anything else is to rely on God.
Given the state of my heart, I’m guessing that 40 years in the wilderness might be enough. If I had no choice but to rely on God for 43,800 meals in a row–no matter how hard I complained–it’s possible I would get the message that He will provide what I need.
I note that in His goodness, despite my ingratitude he’s given me more than 40 years’ worth of nutrition already. In His goodness, he’ll also give me the time I need to grasp the the truly important things of life, before He brings me to the land of milk and honey.
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