This from Lena:
When we arrived in the States last June, I was sure my
fascination with shopping for things I can’t get in Peru would fade after a
month or so, but that wasn’t the case. In my family, we always joke saying,
“Hey, did you know there is a sale at Kohls?!!?” (There is always a sale at Kohls).
Even though I know that much of the shopping has been totally
reasonable, I find that there are heart issues that have surprised me with
their voracious spirit—an inner demand for more, for “enough” that is
impossible to satisfy.
When the Israelites were miraculously delivered out of
slavery (and into the desert), they went immediately into God’s training
program for How To Be God’s People. They
were free, but they were out in the dessert with all they owned and all their
families. They were like a traveling metropolis, with no way to keep themselves
in food and water—the most basic of elements. I am always fascinated by God’s
delivery system for the manna that saved their lives. Manna was delivered only by God’s hand, it
was delivered daily, it was un-hoardable, it was provided in such a way as to
never be too much or too little regardless of how much you gathered, and the
only time you could gather extra was in preparation for the Sabbath. God was
clearly their only source for food, and He insisted that they trust Him to
provide what they needed, but only when they needed it. Nothing more, nothing
less.
These rules remind me of the process of adoption and the way
parents need to proceed to form a secure emotional connection to their
children—especially those who come to their new home having been a victim of
neglect or abuse or lived in extremely impoverished situations. The new parents
have to be the only ones to feed the adopted child, the only ones to care for
their needs, so that trust can be built. They have to learn to trust their
parents enough to accept in their hearts that they don’t need to hoard food for
later—for just in case things go south—in case they need to make a quick get
away. It seems to me that when the
hoarding stops, it is clear evidence that trust is formed—something to
celebrate!
It has been so clear to me lately that the impulse to hoard
is a clear sign that the hoarder does not trust that what they need will be
provided. As a child of God, it means that I am still thinking I may have to
keep a suitcase ready in case this God doesn’t come through. In my own heart, I
find myself needing to cling to scripture. I tell myself, “Lena, if he dresses
the lilies so beautifully, how much more will He take care to dress you?” The
orphan in me fights back, but the loved adopted daughter declares her security,
and says, “My Father is a good father, and He will provide everything I need!”
So I do regular checks for cheerios in the closet. It’s a
journey, like everything else! Hoarding gives me a false sense of security that
doesn’t satisfy and a nagging worry over scarcity, but trusting the hand of the
Father gives peace and an opportunity to prove his love, not only to me, but to
those who walk with me and have their own stash hidden away that they need to
surrender. Even cheerios eventually go stale sitting in that closet, but his
mercies are new every morning, and his manna is ready for the day.
