So get rid of all evil behavior. Be done with all deceit, hypocrisy, jealousy, and all unkind speech. Like newborn babies, you must crave pure spiritual milk so that you will grow into a full experience of salvation. Cry out for this nourishment, now that you have had a taste of the Lord’s kindness. 1 Peter 2:1-3
What do we crave? What do we cry out for? What do we think about and give energy to and pursue?
The latest iPhone? That new flat screen tv? A better car? Some new jeans? The next sweet treat we can put in our mouths?
Where does my attention rest when I’m resting? What do my thoughts wander towards when I’m not pushing them in any particular direction?
What do I crave?
This is a deeply difficult question to wrestle with. In truth we crave a lot of things we shouldn’t. Some of them are just inherently wrong to desire—“lusts of the flesh” as the Bible would call them. Others aren’t wrong, they just occupy too much of our time, take too high a priority, become too central to why we are living. Come to think of it, the Bible calls these lusts of the flesh as well…
Have we tasted of the Lord’s kindness? Have we been saved apart from our own merit? Are we living as children of the King? If so, why do we more easily crave other things, rather than crying out for nourishment of the Spirit?
Maybe we forget. Maybe we lose sight of what God is doing and what he’s offering. Or maybe we’re just broken sinners who need constant reminders and course correction. Yes, that last one’s the most true.
I want the full experience of salvation, not just a bidding of time until heaven. I want the full experience of salvation, not just a hope for someday, when Jesus returns. I want all there is, all that can be, all of God. Here. Now. I do want this.
I do crave this. But I wander in sin and find distraction in the other hunger pangs that also ring out. Those pangs of empty promises and broken attempts at fullness of life. I crave this food from the Savior, but I lack the discipline to stop eating whatever the world puts in front of me. I tend to stuff my soul with all the junk that lies around too close at hand. I forget myself and where I’ve come from and whose I am. I forget the feast that’s offered and the way he satisfies; trading it instead for the unpalatable emptiness of what’s in close proximity.
Will all those things I wish I had, and all those dreams of what I could do, and all the ways I wish for different circumstances really feed my soul? I should be craving the only sustenance that brings life and fullness. Then all those others things will find their place and play their part and live down to their potential.
Lord, may I crave more of you and not lose sight of the ways I long to put other things and other people in the role of filling my soul as only you can.