It’s a promise. It’s a fact. If you are His, He supplies. Period.
His supply will never be lacking. It will contain everything that you need. Always.
That doesn’t mean, however, that God will always make you comfortable, nor that He will always give you abundance or prosperity or understanding. There may be things in your life that are desperately uncomfortable, that you think MUST change. If that is what is happening to you, remember the children of Israel. They wandered in the wilderness for forty years. It wasn’t because they were stupid or got lost and couldn’t find their way. It was because they were fearful and discontent. God gave them everything they needed, but they yearned for more. They wanted to go back to their farms, their homes, the familiar places. They surely thought, as we do sometimes, that things simply could not go on like that. They wanted things to follow their agenda. They weren’t content with manna, but longed for onions and melons and the exotic foods of Egypt. They were impatient waiting for Moses to return with words from God, so they set up idols to worship.
What they didn’t understand was that God gave them exactly what they needed. Not only did He miraculously keep their clothes and shoes from wearing out, while providing them with food and water, but He gave them the desert. And they needed the desert. Sometimes a place of desolation is exactly what we need to draw closer to our Lord. If we are comfortable and have all we want, we tend to forget Him. The desert gives focus, takes away the distractions, and teaches us to fully depend on Him, because there is nowhere else to turn.
Am I sometimes like the Israelites, wishing for meat instead of bread, thinking only of the things I don’t have, and missing the very lesson that God has set before me? If I feel I am in the desert, am I turning my heart toward God or finding an idol to replace Him?
I need deserts. I need dry times to remind me how lost my life is without God. Whenever I am at a loss, not understanding how things could go so very wrong, it is a signal to turn my heart toward God. I don’t always need to understand—I need to trust.
This morning I read about Elijah. If you don’t remember what he did on Mount Carmel, refresh your memory by clicking here.
The view from mount Carmel today
[Elijah said] Fill four barrels with water, and pour it on the burnt sacrifice, and on the wood. And he said, Do it the second time. And they did it the second time. And he said, Do it the third time. And they did it the third time. And the water ran round about the altar; and he filled the trench also with water. ~1 Kings 18:33-35
After challenging the prophets of Baal to demonstrate the power of their god to send fire, Elijah set up his own altar. I’ve always thought that all that water was just to make sure no one thought the fire started accidentally—that Elijah just wanted to make the miracle more obvious. But this morning I realized that this was a desert! There had been no rain for three years. People and livestock were dying for lack of water. Think how it felt to the watching people to see twelve barrels of water being simply poured out over that altar—an enormous amount of precious, precious liquid running down and soaking into the ground. They surely saw that as a huge sacrifice. They may have even been angry at the seeming waste. It is a testimony to the amazing faith of Elijah that he had taken this thing that was most valuable and poured it out abundantly before the Lord.
So in my desert, do I hoard the things that are scarce? Do I hug them to me or do I pour them out to God? When I yearn for something, something that seems it would make my life complete, am I willing to give it as a sacrifice to God? When I am tormented by uncertainty, do I offer the bits that I do understand? Do I give them up as precious water, to a God “that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think”? (Eph 3:20)
Before that day on Mount Carmel was over, God sent rain—torrents of rain! The twelve barrels of water that had been offered up suddenly seemed insignificant. So it is when we offer ourselves, our dreams, our desires, our questions, our fears to the Living God. He is able to take our paltry offerings and return blessings beyond our wildest dreams.
It’s fairly easy to offer God a tithe—a small part of our bounty—but when we offer to Him from scarcity, the yield is even more sweet.
Lord, I give you this thing that I lack. This thing that I want so desperately, I sacrifice it to You. I know that my lack is your superabundance, your power is made perfect in my weakness. (2 Cor 12:9)