Enduring Hunger

The house was still. It was just me and the wee one, Connor Phillip Maher. I had convinced his mama to let me have the midnight feeding so she could get some much needed rest. The moon flooded into the picture window behind me, bathing the living room in a soft glow and illuminating the tiny features of my newest love. My grandson was in what I fondly call “the milk coma”, that seemingly unconscious state that befalls a newborn with a full belly.

A trickle of milk escaped perfect little lips and I smiled. Oh, sure. He may have milk to spare right now, but I knew that in three short hours—give or take a second— he’d be gnawing at the burp cloth as I hurried to tuck it under his chin. And those itty bitty fingers, the ones that had only just now relaxed their grip on mine, they’d be clutching frantically for the next meal. It’s baby language for, “I want more and I don’t mean maybe.”

Many years ago, the Apostle Peter used this picture of desperate dependency to lay out the believers’ growth plan. Writing in I Peter, chapter two, Peter instructs us to long for the sincere milk of the word like a newborn baby for his or her next meal. The image speaks as clearly to us today as it must have to the first generation of Christ followers and the instruction is similarly familiar to regular churchgoers. The problem often comes along the “how-to hunger” line, but I believe we find that clue in the remainder of our verse, “If you’ve tasted the kindness of the Lord.” So, have you—tasted, I mean? A Mr. Chesterton once said, “Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and not tried.” Begin now to seek God and feed regularly on His word. Your growing hunger may just amaze you, but I for one won’t be at all surprised to find you with extra nourishment dribbling from your lips, unconsciously and involuntarily, for all to see.

Hugs,
Shellie