I ate a bowl of cereal last night after midweek service and it wasn’t satisfying like the many times before. And I let out a big belch of emptiness. Because milk only makes you feel full.
You were made to eat more. You were made to eat the meat of Him who made you.
And I ache, because all this time I’ve been a baby on milk.
I run my hands over the chocolate-brown leather of His Bread before bed. The Bible is meat and makes a full soul. And the preachers are only messengers not meat. And Sunday’s not enough nourishment to sustain the soul man.
I’m thirty and taking big girl bites of His bread, and starting to swallow how He was broken for me. And even though the mouth gets full–grace never stops stretching the skin into maturity.
The best meal was never the bottle. The best meal is always the choice meat of His mercy. And even a few bites a day will increase your appetite for whole loaves of Word.
So, the Bible stays in the kitchen now–close to the bread cabinet. Where we can savor it. Where I can reach for food that truly fills. Because the hunger pains won’t get pushed away without His bread.
2-3 As I opened my mouth, he gave me the scroll to eat, saying, “Son of man, eat this book that I am giving you. Make a full meal of it!” So I ate it. It tasted so good—just like honey. Ezekiel 3:2-3 MSG
Because our bodies won’t keep from wilting without feasting on His Bread. This is the meal that makes us whole and well with all that life will feed us.
And heaven forbid if we frustrate the grace of God by refusing His choice fruit–His Son, His Holy Scripture, His Spirit. Taking His Supper without tasting His goodness at our daily table.
Father, help us make your Word food first. Then we will be mature–grown up in grace and made ready for the work of the Kingdom.