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Tuesday, August 3, 2021

Looking for bread in all the wrong places

 


There are days that I have meltdowns...when I find it more comforting to sit and bewail my circumstances, weeping and moaning and becoming as useful as a dishwasher with no water.

Sunday was one of those days.

I woke up feeling edgy, which is never a promising thing. Well, it is promising, but not for smooth sailing, but more for high winds and choppy seas. My little boat was rocking and I knew a storm was coming.

Why would you have a meltdown, you ask?

Food. It was all about food.

You see, I have this thing about weekend breakfasts...that they should be special and a time of sitting down together and sharing not only good food, but companionship. It's an expectation I wake up with every Saturday and Sunday morning. In the past it was an expectation that I could easily fulfill, no problem.

This past Sunday morning, however, I felt overwhelmed even before I dragged my tired body out of bed, I knew it wasn't going to end well. Plunking myself down on the couch with a steaming cup of coffee, I thought, Not again. I just can't do it. I can't think of anything I want to eat. I'm sick of cooking. I hate having diabetes and on and on and on. By then the meltdown was secured.

All I wanted was the good ol' days...when brunches looked like pancakes and bagels and muffins. For that matter, anything that had carbs and sugar in it. I was sick and tired of veggies and eggs and meats. Let me tell you, people who say they are not addicted to food are delusional. Eating is not only physical but emotional, and it does not like to be changed. I am a living testimony to that.

So I sat on that couch for an hour, sobbing my heart out. When Ted had the courage to sit down with me, I told him, I would rather be able to eat what I want and die early, than to have to do this for the rest of my life. Yeah, pretty pathetic. Ted went on to remind me of people we know who have not listened and obeyed what they needed to do, and the consequences of those choices. Like kidney failure, amputation, losing their eyesight, and death. You would have thought that that 2x4 being whacked against my head would wake me up, but no, I kept on wailing.

I don't know, maybe sometimes we just need a pity party. God gives us that grace. But only for so long. Lord, if it was my kid doing this, I would have sent him to his room and let him know that he could come out when he calmed down, and then he would still have to eat what I told him.  

Anyway, we had thought we would actually go to church that morning but I was no mood whatsoever. So we stayed home and turned on our favorite service who has our most favorite Priest, Father Mike. Week after week after week his messages have been spot-on. As the service began, somewhere in my weary spirit I whispered, Lord, I can't do this anymore. I need your help. I desperately need to hear from you today. Please. I beg you. Don't abandon the work of your hands.

I don't know if Ted heard what I heard during the message. For all I know, he could have heard something completely different...something he needed to hear...something like, how not to murder your wife when she's driving you crazy. Lord have mercy.

With great humility I say that God was faithful to my heart cry...just the Gospel reading told me that. 

"My Father gives you the true Bread from Heaven. I am the Bread of Life- he who comes to Me will never hunger, he who believes in Me will never thirst."

Father Mike went on to talk about the Israelites in the desert...how they grumbled and complained over the food they were given and how they stomped their feet and held up their fists because they wanted to go back to Egypt. They moaned and groaned and drove Moses crazy because they missed the food there.

They forgot the slavery part of the deal.

So God sent them to their room for 40 years and told them for 40 years you will learn to trust Me. I will train you to live in freedom. 

Ouch. Ouch.

Freedom. How much do I really want it is the question. It sounds so enticing. But it comes with a cost. Freedom to do the right thing means saying No to the wrong thing. It means letting go of feelings and emotions and centering on what God has shown me is the right thing for me...not looking around me and wishing I could be like others...not looking backwards, but up to Him.

It involves trust.

Trusting that what God asks me to do is the best thing for me. Trusting that His love and joy over me and my obedience is of greater value than food. Trusting that He knows my deepest desire is to not die from diabetes, but have a life-long testimony of God's goodness and faithfulness to me...one day at a time. Sometimes even one meal at a time.

The flesh is powerful. But never has the flesh been known to want what is good for us. It wants what it wants no matter the cost to us. Even death.

I see now that Jesus needs to be the Bread I desire. When I hunger and thirst for that which would only kill me, I need to see that as a sign of remembrance that I need Him...that I can't do this without Him...that I can trust Him, especially when I can't trust myself.

How about you, my friend? Is there an area in your life that enslaves you? It may not be food, there are hundreds of other options to choose from.

Christ came to set us free. Because He desperately, passionately loves us and desires good for us.

And anything He deems good is worth fighting for. 

May each of us taste and see that the Lord is good. 

Amen. And Amen.

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And now for your listening pleasure...one of my favorite artists singing about my blog! 😅






 


 



 

2 comments:

  1. I love the focus on freedom and how God’s will and following him is true life! Thanks for sharing!

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