I never even cracked my Bible in private today. It’s a horrible thing to have to record, but I get some sort of penance satisfaction from pointing the finger at myself. Perhaps it’s my personality that demands someone to reprimand, and when no one else is available, I pounce on myself. Honestly, though, it is pitiful that I’ve not read the Word today. I cuddled by my parent’s fire, Bible in hand this morning, and promptly drifted to sleep. Sure, I got fed during church by Papa, Don and Nick, all sharing good stuff—about the gifts we have in Christ Jesus. And sure, I played and sang praise songs with Josiah and Zach this afternoon. But I didn’t gather my Bread from Heaven first thing in the morning and I’m sure my spirit has been ill-fed today on account of it. “Tomorrow,” I promise myself, and my Bible, and the Lord. “Tonight I want to finish up my journal, climb into bed and cuddle in to sleep, sleep, sleep. After all, doesn’t the Lord give His loved one’s sleep?” Sure, He does. And He says to meditate on my bed and be still. What better way to meditate than after a hearty spiritual meal? Sadly, I don’t feel hungry. When fasting, you know, the longer you go, the less you desire food. I can’t bear for my spiritual system to go into starvation mode, no longer demanding sustenance. I can’t make up the tomorrow for not eating today. I think of the famine for God’s word—in other countries where believers stay awake all night to read as much as they can, never sure when a Bible will be again available to them. Never sure when they will have time again to sit and read the precious Word of God. Tonight before I go to sleep, I will take the time to read God’s word, in case I never have another chance.
Lord, because it seems less filling,
See my hardened heart, unwilling
To get up and gather early,
Taste Thy bread so pure and holy.
But Thy precious bread from heaven,
Free from sin’s pervading leaven,
Unlike manna in the desert
May be gathered now and ever.