Sacred Mundane: The Blog

One who is full loathes honey, but to one who is hungry everything bitter is sweet.

Prov. 27:7

Imagine my surprise when I realized that an entire book had been written themed on a verse that I thought had the exact opposite meaning! Ha!

I very much enjoyed Sara Hagerty’s thoughtful and honest book Every Bitter Thing is Sweet. She wrestles through suffering, blessing, promises, surrender, and sovereignty in a lovely way.  But it struck me as so funny to read this book centered on Proverbs 27:7 when I had always read it the exact opposite way!

In my Bible, beside that verse, I had scratched out these words: Live full.

Then, after reading her book, I added next to it (with a smile): Live hungry. 

Here’s what I mean: The first time I heard this verse I was 21-years-old, attending a ministry training school. During one class, a woman came and taught on relationships. I so vividly remember her sharing this verse, explaining that we must be filled up with God, so satisfied with His love, daily feasting on His presence, that everything else pales in comparison. The danger, she said, is when we live hungry, because then, even what is bitter tastes sweet. When we’re not filled with the love of God, we’ll accept pathetic substitutes, we’ll settle for unhealthy relationships, we’ll give in to the temptation of the world, we’ll look for earthly loves and substitutes to satisfy our starving souls.

We’ll live like beggars when we’re really children of the King.

That so deeply resonated with me. That was 14 years ago and I still think about that truth often. I am so often tempted to live empty, that aching, gnawing hunger in my heart that makes me look out there, elsewhere, for more joy, fulfillment, attention, satisfaction. We see people living this out all around us: “Somebody, please look at me. Please like me. Please accept me. I’m so desperately hungry I will settle for your attention and approval and love, rather than God’s. I’m so hungry, even what is bitter tastes sweet to me.

Of course, we should live hungry for God. Sara’s right, of course, blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. There is no “right” interpretation of this verse. It is simply a stated fact, and clearly both life-applications can be helpful and fruitful, when applied in the right way.

Live hungry. Live full.

But this Live Full truth is what has struck me this past week. Over and over He has gently whispered to my heart, “You are not a beggar.”  Indeed, I am not a beggar, I am a daughter of the King! I am full! I have every possible resource at my disposal as I carry out the King’s work, as His messenger and as His precious child.

I see my own tendency toward a hungry soul, to live beggar-like, and I see how this state of soul-hunger is such a danger, how it leads me to look elsewhere for my joy and satisfaction. Even a glance at my internet history reveals this.

Online searches often reflect soul searches. Right? 

Beggar-like living leaves me settling for less than His best. 

And so I turn back toward His Word, His heart, His love. I hide my hungry heart in the secret place where only He can satisfy. And as He fills this heart like only He can, worship spills out, the natural overflow of a satisfied soul:

Give me Jesus, Give me Jesus!

You can have all this world, give me Jesus!

There is nothing worth more, that can ever come close, no thing can compare, You’re our Living Hope.

I’ve tasted and seen, of the sweetest of loves, where my heart becomes free, and my shame is undone.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face,

and the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.

{Live full. Thanks for reading.}

It was the same uncomfortable question I’d asked myself many times before, the question that inevitably makes me squirm, but must be asked:

What part of this problem is my own contribution?

A friend of mine once modeled this for me so beautifully. When wrestling through an agonizing relational issue, she bravely and honestly addressed each and every way that she knew she had personally contributed to the problem. Even though it was maybe only 5% of the whole ball of relational wax, she dealt with her planks before reaching for specks.

The Father has brought me back to that simple question time and time again. Several times, when hurts have surfaced or injustices felt, He’s gently reminded me to ask this question first:

What part of this problem is my contribution?

Maybe it’s only 5% of the issue, but that first 5% is the most important step — it leads us on the path of humility and grace, instead of the easy route of vindication and self-justification.

So I quietly voiced that question, into the air. Gently made a suggestion. It was met with such humility, receptivity, maturity. Oh, how one’s response to criticism speaks volumes about their character! What a joy it is to see people respond with a desire to grow. How often I cringe under it, but my heart’s cry is for the Father to help me humbly receive, respond, grow. If only we understand how simply accepting our 5% responsibility might work wonders in our relationships.

Here’s what I mean: Usually in a conflict, if we were to list out “our fault” and “their fault,” chances are the “their fault” list would be about 95% of the issue. That is, *ahem*, from our perspective. We contributed about 5% of the problem.  But here’s the deal: When we are honest about our 5%, and we truly repent (turn), confess (acknowledge), and humbly ask the other person for forgiveness, even just for our 5% contribution, things change.

When one person takes responsibility for 5%, and the other person takes responsibility for 5%, the next thing you know there is 100% reconciliation. It’s amazing. That first 5% is the magic. It opens the faucet for forgiveness to flow. It changes the atmosphere and quiets the strife. The battle’s over when one party quits fighting.

But oh that 5% is hard! It’s so hard to take that first step. How? How do we move that way when our emotions are screaming, “Get even! You’re right! Don’t give in! It’s their fault!”

Look, again, to Jesus, who quietly reminds us: Blessed are the peacemakers. And we remember Paul’s clear exhortation: “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” In other words, Take responsibility for your 5%. And of course, we remember that infamous duo, dear Euodia and Syntyche, who couldn’t get along, and how Paul names them, asking all those around to help them agree in the Lord.

In other words, it’s all our business to ask ourselves and each other the uncomfortable question:

What part of the problem is my contribution?

If we’d just take responsibility for our own 5% contribution, amazing things might happen.

{Here’s to peace. Thanks for reading.}

It is disheartening to fervently pray, earnestly interceding for something — and then see the circumstances around you appear completely counter to how you’d hoped. This past week there were many such situations, and as I continued in prayer and searched the Scriptures, God brought me to Mark 4.

To the storm.

You know the story, right? The crowds are basically mobbing Jesus because His healing and delivering power is so incredible that throngs of people are pressing in around him at all times. So he tells his disciples to get in the boat, and they’d sail across the Sea of Galilee to the other side. But during the night, while Jesus is sound asleep, the storm comes, the waves crash, and the boat begins filling with water.

The disciples cry out, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

Jesus wakes, rebukes the wind and says to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Suddenly all is calm, and the disciples are amazed.

But the wind isn’t the only thing Jesus rebukes. He rebukes His disciples as well: “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Part of me has wondered what they did wrong. What showed Jesus that they had no faith? They woke Jesus up, didn’t they? They knew that He was the answer, isn’t that pretty good faith? Isn’t that what we do in faith?

But listen to their words: “Do you not care?!”

There’s the unbelief. 

Notice that their doubt is not a doubt of Jesus’ power but of His goodness.

Don’t you care?! 

They don’t say, “Aren’t you able to fix this?!”

They say, “Do you not care?!”

And isn’t that what we say? When we don’t see the answer, when we’re confused and disheartened and don’t see the desired result right away, aren’t we so tempted to grumble to God in our hearts:

“Do You not care?!” 

I believe the entire attack of the enemy, his entire scheme and only real aim is to get us to question the goodness of God. He knows there’s no use making us doubt His power. It’s obvious. Ummm…Jesus rose from the dead — I think the power issue is settled.

But if he can get us to doubt the goodness of God, he wins. If he can erode our trust, our rest in His love and special care and provision, if we can think,

“There’s God, asleep on the job, clearly He must not care.” 

Then he wins.

But he won’t win. Because we are not ignorant of his schemes and we know that affirming and declaring the goodness of God will always bring the victory. No matter what the storm is like, or how “asleep” He looks, we express our faith by not only declaring His power, but His goodness as well.

For the LORD is good,

his steadfast love endures forever,

and His faithfulness to all generations.

Psalm 100:5

{May His goodness carry you this weekend. Thanks for reading.}