As I go through dry times in my spiritual life, I am tempted to do several things:
I am tempted to think that God has abandoned me; I am tempted to seek distractions that occupy my mind so that I don’t have to think about the angst that exists within my heart; I am tempted to live in the past, remembering mountain tops in my spiritual life; I am tempted to sin or to take shortcuts to pleasure that do not include God’s commands; I am tempted to place such pressure on relationships with others that they cannot possibly meet my expectations.
When I am in these situations, it helps me to remember the Israelites and manna. God gave them manna as a food, but it was also a physical demonstration of His love and provision. He instructed them very specifically on how it was to be used…they were only to gather enough for the particular day, except the day before the Sabbath when they were to gather enough for two days. If they gathered more than they needed it spoiled, turning His good provision into something rotten.
So, how do I make this connection of my daily life to manna for the Israelites? Well, God provides each of us with daily life—with food and clothing, with shelter and relationships, with exposure to the beauty of the creation, with opportunities to commune with Him. These are our daily manna. They are always there, in varying quantities and varying qualities, no matter how many other things might negatively impact our lives. (The Israelites had manna, but they had plenty of problems, too).
When I think God has abandoned me, I remember the roof over my head, the food in my pantry (or my stomach), the cold glass of water I can drink whenever I want, the love of my family, the beauty of the sky and the creativity of the vegetation around my home.
When I am tempted to seek distractions in place of Him, I remember the instruction to seek Him first; when I take time to do this, He reorders my priorities, making the distractions less attractive and less imperative, and then, allows me greater enjoyment of them simply because they no longer carry the weight of needing to satisfy my deepest longings.
When I am tempted to live in the past, to try to resurrect past memorable spiritual experiences, I instead give thanks for those experiences without allowing them to become idols that corrupt the very love they were intended to convey.
When I am tempted to sin and take short cuts, I am reminded of the rotten quality of pleasure gathered outside of His will and the regret that follows, just as manna gathered in excess was no longer fit for its original purpose and brought sorrow to the Israelites.
When I am tempted to expect fellow humans to be God, I remember to forgive them their trespasses, and to set the bar of my expectations on the ground—not easy, but a concept upon which I work daily—God demands nothing of me except my faith; how can I justify my expectations of performance when He has none of me?
Arising each day when the prospect that this day is to be lived separately and without baggage from the day preceding, and without the after-load of the day to follow, is freeing. Just as the Israelites had only the manna of the day to gather, I have only to gather the moments of the day into communing with Him, living His will, and allowing His sovereignty to order my day, whatever may come.
Certainly life is not always or even frequently easy. But when my heart approaches life from this perspective, when the disruptions of the day are viewed within His sovereignty, when the tragedies that flash across the news are known to be known from all time by Him, when the fun of the day is seen as His provision for my sake, when the dry times are known to be His way of giving me discipline, of sharpening my will to be compliant with His, then my anxieties wither, my joy blossoms amongst the debris of whatever destructive events the day may bring.
Thanks be to God for His immeasurable Grace and Mercy, that gives me Hope in all these things.
