Back in Cambodia, I felt closer to the Father than I had in my entire life.
I can’t explain what it was. Looking back now, I can’t think of any special formula that I was using at the time. There wasn’t any specific order that I was going through in my quiet time that would’ve been the key. It wasn’t any crazy sermon I listened to or any life-changing books I read.
Somehow, I just felt the presence of God more clearly, more intimately, more powerfully than I ever had.
I was (using Christianese) “on fire for the Lord.”
This carried over into Vietnam; I would just wake up every single day knowing that it was an opportunity for me to get closer to the Father, to learn more about Jesus, to live more in the power of the Holy Spirit.
It was phenomenal.
But—about halfway through Vietnam—something changed.
I don’t know what it was. I don’t know if it was a slow progression or if it was just one moment or what. I just know that suddenly that deep intimacy I had been experiencing since the beginning of Cambodia was gone. I didn’t necessarily feel like God wasn’t there, but I certainly didn’t feel like he was as close to me as I knew he had been for the past month.
But, I was confident that I would regain this intimacy. God promises that if we draw near to him that he will draw near to us so I wasn’t really freaking out about it. I just knew I wanted—needed—to get back to that place.
This dry season—this period of feeling spiritually distant from the heart of the Father—drug on and on. Into Ethiopia. Into Rwanda.
By about the third week of being in Ethiopia, I started to really begin to lose my head a bit. I was desperately trying to climb back into the Father’s arms but just felt like everything I did would leave me back where I was: feeling distant. Once we got into Rwanda, I was trying everything I knew to do to work my way back into the intimacy of the Father. I downloaded all kinds Christian spirituality books and sermons. I talked to leaders and friends. I tried to put my mind back in Cambodia, thinking over every single thing I was doing on a day-to-day basis back then that would’ve allowed me to be closer to the Lord.
Nothing.
No matter what book I read or what “special” prayer I prayed, I couldn’t seem to get myself back into the place I had been at before.
I was so hungry, but I couldn’t seem to find food.
The other day I was reading in John 6.
It’s the apostle John’s account of Jesus feeding the five thousand. A story most of us have known since childhood Sunday school classes. Often referenced alongside walking on water and water to wine when considering the miracles of Jesus’ earthly ministry.
At this point, I was pretty sure I had gleaned all there was to be had from it.
But then, God did what he does best: he spoke to me in a new way.
Let’s pick up the story at verse 8 and go through verse 13:
“One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, ‘There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?’ Jesus said, ‘Have the people sit down.’ Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, about five thousand in number. Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted. And when they had eaten their fill, he told his disciples,‘Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost.’ So they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves left by those who had eaten.”
Did you catch it?
You may have missed it among the fact that He fed five thousand people with five loaves of bread and two fish. You also may have been caught up in the fact that they then had twelve baskets of leftovers. But, there’s something else in there.
Check out verses 10 and 11 again:
“Jesus said, ‘Have the people sit down.’ Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, about five thousand in number. Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted.”
Jesus asked the people to sit down.
He asked them to just stop fretting around trying to figure out how they are going to get food and to sit down, relax, and trust him to take care of them. And what happened when they did? He fed them. He filled them up. He gave them more than enough to satisfy every bit of hunger that they had.
In that moment, it hit me: I was trying to feed myself. I was trying to eat up all the books, sermons, advice that I could and then was freaking out when it wasn’t working—when it wasn’t enough to fill me up.
You see, in the midst of being in the awestruck wonder of this story, we must not forget the simplicity of the message Jesus is giving here: Jesus will feed us. He will give us enough to both sustain us and to overflow into leftovers for the people around us. After all, he is the bread of life (John 6:35).
All that He asks of us is that we sit down. That we stop all the striving and working to get to Him. That we stop trying to put together perfect formulas or schedules for reaching His presence. There is more than enough of His fully satisfying presence to go around; He wants more than anything to feed us with it. Jesus wants us to feast on Him because He knows that only He can fully satisfy us and fill whatever hunger we may have deep within our soul.
We just have to sit down.
