Grace Like Manna

I’m a worker, a planner, a do-aheader. If there’s a project looming in the future, I’m probably going to tackle it today. Sheesh, once I read everything on my entire college American Literature syllabus and wrote the final paper within weeks of starting classes just because I knew I’d be busy with play practices when the paper was due! The point being, I don’t like to wait until the last minute for things I need. I’d rather plan ahead. Waaay ahead.

Know what doesn’t work that way? Grace. 

Once Upon a Time

Perhaps you know the story of the Israelites when they left Egypt to find the land God had promised to them. At first they were stoked. God’s power was everywhere like Bam! Kablam! Flies! Frogs! Locust! Blood! Split seas! Drowned enemies! Yippee! 

But the very next day they were as whiney as a tired, spoiled toddler. “I wish I were a slave again. I miss the onions. I miss the melons. Where’s the beef?” But God had not brought them out into the desert to die of starvation, of course. That’s why He sent them manna. Miracle food from heaven. I’ve always pictured it being like little communion wafers, but I hope for their sakes that it was tastier than that. Maybe more like lembas bread? 

An As-Needed Basis

For five points in this game of Sunday school trivia, how often did the manna come down from heaven? Yes, you in the back with your finger up your nose. That’s correct—once a day, every morning except on the Sabbath. (Sabbath day was leftovers day, a welcome treat for the cooks, I’m sure.) And of course the whiney Israelites weren’t happy even with a daily provision of manna, but that’s a different story. 

The point is that God provided them with the food they needed when they needed it. They couldn’t stash some away just in case God forgot to send it later. If they tried to hoard it overnight to save themselves the trouble of collecting it the next day, they woke up to jars of rotten manna. (Very short shelf life.) Instead, God gave them a daily chance to trust him.

Day By Day

God has plenty to say about each new day. Jesus teaches us to pray not for our monthly Costco trip or our weekly grocery run but for our daily bread (Matt. 6:11). He also tells us not to worry about tomorrow because “each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matt. 6:34). The Old Testament rejoices in the truth that God’s love and mercy are new every morning (Lam. 3:22-23). And more manna came down every day.

Really, God didn’t need to make a world with night and day, a world where each sunrise is a new beginning. But He did it anyway. Why? Only God knows the full answer, but part of it is to remind us of our frailty and His faithfulness. If it were up to me to make the sun rise every morning, I’d be up all night stewing about it. But instead I have to lay down and sleep (even if it’s only in snatches these days) just like every other creature. And while I rest, God renews. When I wake up, there is new love, new mercy, and new grace.

The Miracle of Multiples

When I was still expecting my second baby, I often fried perfectly good brain cells trying to figure out how on earth people raise more than one kid at a time. I knew there must be some method because of the frequency of repeat-offender parents, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how it worked. I was especially stressed about bedtime. My hubby works second shift, and my son had come to expect a rather elaborate bedtime ritual. I was stumped.

So I tried to plan it all out. I could put a bouncy chair in this corner for the baby, and my toddler could still sit on my lap for story time. Or maybe I could fit the baby’s swing here. But if the baby cries, I’ll need to hold her during story time. That means I need a bigger rocking chair. Or two chairs. Yes, I’ll need two chairs, a swing, and a bouncer, and then bedtime can remain unchanged. 

Ha. Ha. 

Hope in the Trenches

The truth is that every night is different. Some nights my toddler, Isaiah, gets a bath. Other nights he goes to bed grubby. Some nights the baby, Eva, sleeps so I can read three books and tell a story while I tuck Isaiah in and rub his back. Other nights Eva’s shrieking like an old door in a wind storm, so story time is truncated with many apologies (mine) and tears (also mine, but sometimes Isaiah’s too). That’s just how it’s going to be for now. 

I had expected to out-plan and avoid these unpleasant nights. I wanted assurance that everything would be fine, that things wouldn’t change too much. I wanted to know exactly how it would all work out in advance. I wanted tomorrow’s grace today. But that’s not how it works. His mercies are new every morning. He gives me grace not for tomorrow or even ten minutes from now. I get strength for each moment and not a moment sooner. It may be messy at times, and I don’t know how things will go from one day to the next. But no plan is the new plan, and God is giving me grace to accept that.

Daily grace. Grace like manna.

And it is enough.