Lying in bed with ice on my forehead, I could feel God more tangibly than ever before. I hadn’t read the Bible in weeks, but the words kept permeating my dizzy, migrained mind. God’s presence and peace were just as physically strong as the nausea and fire in my skull.
God I’m ready to be better, I prayed. But I’m going to miss being so close to you.
I knew it would happen. When all I had was God and a sickbed, I talked to him all day long. But the migraines slowly faded and the business invaded. I could read again. I could accomplish. I worked full time and finished college. I got married.
Why does the manna stop when everything is going great? Where are the supernatural works of God in my rosy life?
Seriously? They’re everywhere. I feel silly I ever asked that question.
I’m just like the Israelites. When my daily sustenance is lying on the desert sand and is jarringly, obviously supernatural, I see God. When water comes from a rock, I see God.
But when water comes out of my faucet I forget about him. When dinner is in the oven, I complain that I had to make it. When my head doesn’t hurt anymore, I forget who healed it.
God brought the Israelites through forty years in the desert to give them a gigantic gift, way bigger than manna. He gave them the luscious produce of an entire land. Maybe he was proud to see Israel beginning to cultivate its blessings, proud to see Israel graduate beyond being spoon fed bread and water.
So where is God in my normal life? Everywhere. He’s in the supernatural fact that my husband cares about loving me more than himself. He’s in the fact that water comes out of my faucet and there’s food in my fridge. (Most of the world would consider that manna from heaven.)
He’s in the sweet family memories. He’s in the resolved conflicts. He’s in my pain-free head. Maybe I would feel his presence more if I took the time to realize I’ve got so much more than manna in the sand.
Photo credit Kevin Schraer.