How much do we hunger and thirst for God?  Do we come ravenous as if our lives depended on His sustenance?  Do we come panting, tongues parched, yearning for just a cool drop of water to satisfy?

It takes the voice of God to break denial and forgetfulness.  It takes daily reminders that we are not self-sufficient creatures.  Daily reminders—one of the reasons our family lives in the country and tends horses on our farm—to remember that we are dependent—to keep us bowing our heads, seeking sustenance, being grateful.

We see two hooved animals here on the farm each day—one wild, the other domesticated.  Both are dependent creatures, like us.  There are deer in our fields and horses in our barn.

We never tire of delighting in the deer—their big brown eyes, black nose, and ears turning like satellite dishes to capture sounds all around.  And when they wave their white-flag tails to say goodbye, we always laugh.  The way they eat the left-overs in our soybean field is a reminder to us that all creatures are dependent on their Maker who creates the seed that grows the crops.

Our horses are the same delight and remind us of the same lesson.  They come into the barn twice daily, eager for food from my hand.  This morning, I did not disappoint.  I poured their grain and threw their hay and satisfied their hunger.  And I felt so powerful and benevolent, realizing how dependent these magnificent animals are on me.

But wait.

Where did I get their grain?  And where did I get their hay?  I became painfully aware of my dependence on our Maker after our farmlands suffered drought one season and flood the next, wiping out hay fields and tripling the cost to keep our horses.  They may be dependent on us, but we are dependent on Him who hold the skies.

So we’re not unlike the deer of the field or the horse in the barn.  All bodies are dependent on our Maker and Provider.

But our bodies have spirits too.

Do they recognize their hunger and thirst?  Do they realize their state of starvation?

Yes, they do.

But too often those starving spirits go rummaging through garbage dumps for some small morsel of sustenance when they could have access to the royal table, filled with sweet things.

But they won’t come.

Cannibals, they would rather eat their own through gossip and slander.

Carrion-lovers, they would rather eat the decaying offerings of the world promising fulfilment.

Alzheimer’s-sufferers, they forget about the one true God.

Actors, they play God.

Fools, they wonder why they die—why their bodies break and their hearts cry and their souls wither.

Then where do they turn?

The God who is love watches and waits through the whole human drama, waiting for us God-imposters to step off our own self-made stages.  Sometimes, we just have to fall off, don’t we?

Will they come now?

Will they realize now that all they ever wanted was here, with Me, all along?

We humans reap what we sow.

But God sows holy seed.  His seed was raised and nailed and taken down and buried in darkness.  And then, He came up and out by His own power.

Who can do such a thing but God?

And the holy seed—it gets planted in all who will receive what we can’t do for ourselves.  Like the fields on our farm, all we can do is receive holy seed.  And God’s Holy Seed produces holy fruit—the kind of spirit food that completely satisfies—love—joy—peace—patience—kindness—goodness—faithfulness—gentleness—and self-control. These holy fruits grow when we receive Jesus as our daily bread.

On Him we depend.

In Him we thrive.

By Him, we live forever.

This Good News.

This is the Gospel.

Will we receive our daily bread, from His holy hand?   Will we remember to bow our heads like the horse and the deer, in gratitude to our Maker and Provider of all that truly satisfies?

God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. For in him we live and move and have our being.  Acts 17:27-28