When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, The moon and the stars, which You have ordained, What is man that You are mindful of him, And the son of man that You visit him?

For You have made him a little lower than the angels, And You have crowned him with glory and honor. You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands;

You have put all things under his feet, All sheep and oxen--Even the beasts of the field, The birds of the air, And the fish of the sea that pass through the paths of the seas. O LORD, our Lord, How excellent is Your name in all the earth!

Psalm 8:3-9

No Meat or Potatoes, But the Candy Aisle Is Full

On Saturday evening, two of us went out for a few groceries. As we walked through the aisles, the empty shelves drew my attention. What had disappeared, and why? These questions fascinated me.
What surprised me most was the absence of any meat in both the frozen and refrigerated sections.  The produce section looked like it had been raided, with empty buckets where potatoes usually sat. Down the center aisle, the only flour that remained was what had spilled out from bags that had been bought earlier. No rice to be found. The pasta section had only a few stray packages left.

The next aisle was a study in contrast: the candy section was overflowing. No shortage of sweets! Kit Kat, M&M’s, Hershey’s—all my favorites where there in all their flavors, packed in large quantities on the shelves.

The contrast between the meat section and the candy aisle reminded me of an important truth: In a time of suffering or crisis, people go for what they need most, not what they like most.
In a global pandemic with disruption, distancing, and isolation, no one who ran to the store was thinking about sweets. They were thinking about sustenance.

There’s a lesson here for all of us when it comes to our faith.

In times of abundance, it’s easy to forget the fundamental truths: the goodness of creation, the holiness of God, the reality of sin, the suddenness of suffering, the inevitability of death, and the need for salvation. We create the illusion that we are in control, and we expect the church to come alongside us with tips for better living, something that will sweeten the life we’ve cooked up for ourselves.

But what people like is not always what people need. When suffering hits and exposes our weakness—when we encounter the frightening diagnosis, the sudden accident, or the death of a loved one—sweets don’t satisfy. The candy aisle cannot sustain us. And unless our spiritual diet contains something more substantive, we will confront these challenges with spiritual anemia instead of strength.

What we need most is meat-and-potatoes Christianity. We need sustenance that will get us through the trial.

John Owen once said, “Christ is the meat, the bread, the food of our souls. Nothing is in him of a higher spiritual nourishment than his love, which we should always desire.”

During this season of uncertainty, why not take an inventory of our spiritual habits and practices?
Why not take this opportunity to dig deeper into God’s Word, to read books that wrestle with the fundamental questions of life, and to cultivate relationships that go beyond superficial pleasantries?

What if we could emerge from this crisis with a faith that is more solid and more substantive?

Sustenance over sweets.

-- Trevin Wax (Blog Post 3/17/20)