Repetitive Mercies

With a stack of books, I turn the door handle, jerking open the back door that leads into the garage. As if in response to being moved the latches on the door produce their familiar squeak encouraging me to hurry on. Opening the garage door, I quickly hasten through, reaching the grass still damp and cool from the dew. Happily perceiving that the sun had finally decided to peep it's head around the storm clouds, I walk on thinking no more of it.

Running across the lawn, I head towards my final destination. The pier, my secret spot, is really not secret but it sounds much more romantic to think of it that way. It's as if I can focus better. I feel like He's there waiting for me, wanting to hear about all of my pains and joys, hopes and dreams, longings and gratitudes. 

Placing myself down on the edge of the pier, I roll up the bottom of my plaid pajama pants and splash my feet for a second in the cold muddied lake. After an intimate conversation with my Maker, I flip my way to the story of the Israelites wishing to read it after having heard someone refer to it recently in a sermon. Completing the story, I pause to reflect. 

My mind begins to spin in a thousand different directions. 

What grumps. How ungrateful. Do they know how much God hates murmuring? They had everything they needed: daily manna, a continual reminder of his presence, clothes that never wore out, His Law, incredible miracles, protection from their enemies, fresh water, etc. What losers. They just couldn't get their act together…..

Attempting to slow my thoughts, I conclude with their hearts being hardened towards His daily faithfulness and mercy. 

I try putting myself in their place, imagining myself an Israelite. 

With a smile spreading across my face, I venture to envision myself in an Israeli robe. No, I think I'll just leave that part out…

If I had seen a cloud by day and fire by night, as assurance of God's presence. If I had seen the Red sea parted. If I had eaten bread daily given from heaven. If I had experienced my shoes never wearing out. If I had drunk water that had been given from a rock. Would I have complained for more? Would I have forgotten to give thanks? 

Shaking my head, I now move myself back into the 21st century and replay moments from my life. 

About my daily activities, I follow myself around and gaze into my recent past. The moments flash by, each one penetrating my heart like a sword. I perceive myself complaining over the rainy weather, continual aches and pains, daily pill taking, wishing I could control each day and know when and why I feel unwell, protesting over my stretched out diet, and grumbling about not having "this or that". Convicted, I cry out to God, begging of Him to forgive me. Realizing that all that I'm provided with is given by covenants and grace. Why does it seem like every problem is my problem? Conviction comes so often now...

My mind goes back to the Israelites and I ask myself once more, if grumbling would have been my response to God's incredible mercies towards their situation? They were so dull to His mercies. Just because a mercy is repetitive doesn't mean it's dull, does it? Do I do that? No, not me I'm a pretty grateful person... aren't I? 

I look inside my heart and ask myself if I'm convinced of God's providence? Do I see life as something which is teaming with dynamics? Am I taking for granted the manna that God provides daily for me? Do I see each part of life as a revelation of God's marvelous creativity? Or have I have also become dull to His incredible mercies just because they're repetitive?

"Oh you know, that's just the law of gravity, that's just how that flower grows, or that's just how the world waters itself. The grass, it always grows. The sun, it always shines because that's just what it's supposed to do. "

I'm humbled as I realize the many times I've watched a gorgeous sunset and fail to see it as spectacular because it always does that. Looking upward at the sky I feel my face warmed by the sun's presence and a tear trickles down my cheek. Oh God, I also have become dull to your repetitive mercies. Please forgive me.

Every sermon I hear is manna. Every friendship I've been given is manna. Every joy and every trial I encounter are manna. Every breath I take is manna. Every healthy day I live is manna. All the food I eat is manna. All the clothes that I wear are manna. The family that you've chosen for me is manna. The sunsets, the raindrops, the flowers, the grass, they are all manna.   

My brokenness overwhelms me as I think on the many blessings I've been given, that I repeatedly disregard. I've been provided for abundantly and I've chosen to ignore it. I see it as something that "just happens". I, like the Israelites, have been given daily manna, an assurance of His presence, food and clothing, His laws to guide me, and His grace to sustain me. Not only do I complain over the severe mercies He provides but I lack an appreciation for the daily grace He shows me in all areas of my life. He is not required to show me kindness but He does it because He delights in showing repetitive mercies to His children. Lord I praise you and acknowledge your unending mercies. My heart is full as I recognize your patience towards my ever ungrateful heart.