We blindfolded kids for the middle school Trust Walk

I am the Lord thy God, which brought thee out of the land of Egypt: open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it.  Psalm 71:10

I drove up to Phoenix Saturday, for a science fair, and basically for the whole trip, I thought about this verse, which led me to reflect on God’s goodness.  

And the image I had was of a bulbous squeezed-eyes-shut birdlet, beak wide open, perhaps naked-without-plumage trembling a bit with eagerness, waiting for his mother to fill his very wide open mouth.  

Not very attractive perhaps, at first glance. An absolute willingness to receive whatever tidbits that the mother bird deems appropriate, be it crushed grub or snatched insect, because of the implicit trust in both momma’s goodness and knowing. Sort of along the lines of If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?

And the context of the verse is interesting, in that it is part of the conversation “Lord, teach us to pray.” 

After He taught them, “Give us today our daily bread,” and “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened,” He placed all of this teaching in a picture of a person pounding on the door of a friend in the middle of the night, begging to borrow bread for a guest, someone with quote, “shameless audacity.”

But Jesus does a little clarification move in Luke; He takes it a step further, and defines “good things,” for his disciples, the smaller crowd, as “the Holy Spirit... If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

And piled on top of this is the teaching from Chris yesterday, and the singing of Cameron: All I have is yours.  

That’s what the Father said to the older brother of the prodigal son.  “My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.”

Everything.  I am the Lord thy God, which brought thee out of the land of Egypt: open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it. 

But, all of these promises are related to the little bird, wiggling with impatience, “Give me what is good for me. Give me what I need.”

I, who am Queen of the Prayer Lists.  The one who day after day who lays her tattered lists before her Father and waits.  But now that I am older.  And a tiny bit wiser, I am learning to frame these prayers with the words of Jesus, “But not my will, but Thine be done.” Not because I am mystical or wistful, but because I am a stubborn pragmatist.  Because I have been filled.  Because I have received my daily bread, I am perfectly willing to bang on the door.  A long time.

And quite honestly, my sustenance is most often manna, “What is it?” The unimagined. I had been longing for leeks and onions and garlic from Egypt, expectations tightly bound by past experiences, digging about in the dirt, rather than looking upward to heaven, for that which far more wonderful than the human mind can comprehend.  

Thus once again, LORD, I will open my mouth.  And my heart.  To receive Your goodness for today.  Give me today, my daily bread.