Fresh...that is what you want in Sushi. I mean, here you are eating something raw, not flaky fall of the skin, but chewy fresh off the bone. And so, in order to satisfy the palate and comfort the belly, it sure has to be fresh.
And when it is, it is pure heaven; buttery, melt in your mouth, nothing like it, light and airy, fresh.
It is amazing how much that is true of my spiritual life as well. Memorizing verses, knowing biographies of saints that have gone before me, adhering to daily disciplines of faith, knowing right doctrine of theology all ground and root me. But on the daily level, I am still in need of manna. Pick it while it's ripe, only take what you can eat, wafer like in translucence-manna.
Today, I awoke sad. Loath to get out of bed, my morning walk spoiled by the rain, the home overwhelmed by every housekeeping need in the book, my husband gone for an early morning of work, children already squabbling over knights and legos; I lingered, I sighed, I prayed, "Lord, help me with the motivation to get out bed, to do this day well".
The prayer, it continued. I stood, and chose not to dress, not to make my bed, yet. To just make it to the front room, to smile with each nodding head of childish sweetness, to make sure breakfast was satisfying and good, was enough. And I ate my manna.
The work of listening to the older two children list the reasons they had not started math, the younger two walk through whose turn it was with Robin Hood's figurine, to take the dog out in the rain for a quick jaunt, to find the coffee still hot; I breathed a silent prayer of taking in, of eating the manna.
Fresh. Fresh wind, fresh fire, Fresh food for the moment. Give me what I need to follow you in this moment. Carry me, carry me....
The children are a bright spot, a gift. But the laundry, the sink of soaking dishes, the toys and clothes strewn on every floor, are harder to conquer, to obey, the be in...they sink me down and call me to find a new hope, every day, every day, every day.
So, I am thankful, for sushi (yum) that reminds me of my Lord's sweet daily bread, the freshness of it, the daily newness of it, that fills me just enough in this moment to live and breath and have my being. Without Him, I do not know if the children's dear light of laughter and sillies and cuddles on the couch would touch me as profoundly.
And I know for sure the laundry, cleaning, cooking, and food shopping would stand out only in their lackluster mundanity, if it were not for the freshness found in eating of Him, in each moment, with each passing need, in each daily chore.
Fresh. Where are you needing a fresh word, presence, experience? Come to Him and find...
Like newborn babies, you must crave pure spiritual milk so that you will grow into a full experience of salvation. Cry out for this nourishment, now that you have had a taste of the Lord’s kindness. 1 Peter 2:2-3
And when it is, it is pure heaven; buttery, melt in your mouth, nothing like it, light and airy, fresh.
It is amazing how much that is true of my spiritual life as well. Memorizing verses, knowing biographies of saints that have gone before me, adhering to daily disciplines of faith, knowing right doctrine of theology all ground and root me. But on the daily level, I am still in need of manna. Pick it while it's ripe, only take what you can eat, wafer like in translucence-manna.
Today, I awoke sad. Loath to get out of bed, my morning walk spoiled by the rain, the home overwhelmed by every housekeeping need in the book, my husband gone for an early morning of work, children already squabbling over knights and legos; I lingered, I sighed, I prayed, "Lord, help me with the motivation to get out bed, to do this day well".
The prayer, it continued. I stood, and chose not to dress, not to make my bed, yet. To just make it to the front room, to smile with each nodding head of childish sweetness, to make sure breakfast was satisfying and good, was enough. And I ate my manna.
The work of listening to the older two children list the reasons they had not started math, the younger two walk through whose turn it was with Robin Hood's figurine, to take the dog out in the rain for a quick jaunt, to find the coffee still hot; I breathed a silent prayer of taking in, of eating the manna.
Fresh. Fresh wind, fresh fire, Fresh food for the moment. Give me what I need to follow you in this moment. Carry me, carry me....
The children are a bright spot, a gift. But the laundry, the sink of soaking dishes, the toys and clothes strewn on every floor, are harder to conquer, to obey, the be in...they sink me down and call me to find a new hope, every day, every day, every day.
And I know for sure the laundry, cleaning, cooking, and food shopping would stand out only in their lackluster mundanity, if it were not for the freshness found in eating of Him, in each moment, with each passing need, in each daily chore.
Fresh. Where are you needing a fresh word, presence, experience? Come to Him and find...
Like newborn babies, you must crave pure spiritual milk so that you will grow into a full experience of salvation. Cry out for this nourishment, now that you have had a taste of the Lord’s kindness. 1 Peter 2:2-3
3 comments:
Oh, so true that we need his freshness...in every moment. We cannot coast along.
hey Mary Robin! as i'm still relatively new to the blogging thing.. i just found out today that people have been leaving comments on my blog and i never knew! i tried to go to your fb to leave this comment but it appears you have left the fb world! i think its awesome that you have a sewing machine from the 20's! ive used some older ones but i dont think any of them were from that far back! what kinds of problems do you have with it? i would love to talk to you sometime about sewing and such! i think its a great skill to have and i'm excited for noah to get a little older so i can teach him! my email is kelly.laub@yahoo.com if you ever want to catch up or if i can maybe help you with that machine of yours!
I like this one. Boy, do I need it too! Something fresh in the midst of sameness. I really like it!
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