Help for the Hungry Soulنموونە

Embrace Your Hunger

“Do you want to go away as well?” Jesus addressed this question to his disciples—the ones who were left, at least. Many had already walked away from him because his message was not always easy to hear. His words cut to the heart. So he asked those closest to him now to think about the cost of following him. They did not yet know how hard things would get, how tightly they would need to hold on. They would need each other. They would need his words.

They would need Jesus to hold on to them.

And so he turned to the twelve disciples and asked them his question: “Do you want to go away as well?” (John 6:67). Simon Peter replied, “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life. We believe, and we know you are the Holy One of God” (John 6:68–69 NLT).

Hardship and Hunger

As we wrap up this devotional about growing our appetite for God’s word, the question on my mind is, Where do we go from here? How do we keep pursuing something that can feel so unfinished and imperfect in this life; namely, the satisfying of our deepest hunger for Jesus and in his nourishing words, especially when life is hard?

It’s natural for us to want a straightforward list of how-to’s, a surefire plan for change. And while I hope this devotional plan has helped and encouraged you toward a greater desire for Scripture, nothing can do what only God can in the human heart. Only he can increase our appetite for his words through his word. So we put ourselves in the position to receive from him, again and again. We ask him to do a supernatural miracle within us through his word.

And we let the many hardships of our days make us needy. So where do we go from here? We learn to embrace our hunger, letting it drive us to the only source of fullness, our true bread. We learn to see suffering, of whatever form or degree, as a strangely wrapped gift to be received from God’s hand, a reminder to us of reality: we are hungry for him.

This may seem obvious, but it’s hard for us to accept. Why? We don’t like to be needy. And it doesn’t feel natural to embrace anything that exposes our need.

Neediness is evidence of our weakness, vulnerability, and discomfort. It is proof that we can’t supply everything for ourselves, that we are more hungry than we realize and more dependent than we like to admit. The world’s embrace of autonomy and its rejection of authority naturally dwells within each of us—but no matter where we run or what we do, nothing will stop the perpetual need, the lingering hunger within our souls.

It is there, gnawing at our pride and reminding us we aren’t home yet.

We are in the wilderness. And we are hungry.

The beautiful thing about the story of the Bible is its realism. Scripture does not provide an escape from reality, but enters right into it. If you feel like every day is a struggle, you’re right; it is. If you feel like your desires are messed up (even those related to the Bible) and that you can’t get your act together, you’re right; they are, and you can’t. From the garden throughout the generations, God’s word has told us the tale of the human soul: our wholehearted hunger for the Creator, our terrible plunge into starvation, and our countless attempts to fix and fill ourselves with anything but true bread. We are in the wilderness, indeed.

But here’s the good news: God’s word is for the wilderness, for those not yet home.

It is for you and for me. It is for the hungry.

Every hardship—whether obvious and acute suffering, or the daily, lingering futility we may feel—is readying us for Jesus. Every groan anticipates glory. Every hunger pang points us to heaven.

So as we ponder together where to go from here, let’s look at two wilderness accounts from Scripture—two stories that instruct us about embracing our hunger today.

Grumbling and Grace

God’s people had just seen a body of water divide at Moses’s command, creating an escape route through the Red Sea. They had hurried through safely on foot, and not one life was lost— that is, until the waves came crashing down on their pursuers.

This was a miraculous salvation. An undeserved deliverance from death.

But now they had food on their minds. As they entered the wilderness, the whole congregation of Israel grumbled against Moses and his brother Aaron. “If only the Lord had killed us back in Egypt,” they moaned. “There we sat around pots filled with meat and ate all the bread we wanted. But now you have brought us into this wilderness to starve us all to death” (Ex. 16:3 NLT).

How could they, we wonder?

Yet, we too forget. We have seen God deliver our souls from starving hunger. We were on the brink of spiritual death, oppressed by sin and selfishness and enslaved by worldly desires. But when hardship comes to us—an unexpected health crisis, the death of a family member, extended strain from job loss, the darkness of depression, daily disappointments, the brokenness of everything—we are more like the Israelites than we’d like to admit.

We’re forgetful, turning from God and his word. We ask, Will he come through?

Does he really care for me? Is he everything he says he is? Is his word really that trustworthy?

As we walk through our own wilderness, it’s easy to think that the removal of hardship would make everything better. “If only ______ would go away or improve, then I would be happy.” “If only ______ would change, then I could get into my Bible.” Perhaps our circumstances would be easier—no one prefers pain and hardship—but an easy life doesn’t guarantee a satisfied soul.

The wilderness exposes our need for the word.

Often, God uses our hunger to reveal more of his perfect ability to fill it. And often God fills us with himself even when we don’t intend to be satisfied with him. He keeps giving us his word even when we grumble. This is called grace.

In Exodus 16, the word grumble is used multiple times. The people grumble against Moses and Aaron, which is ultimately a grumbling against the Lord. And how does the Lord respond to their complaining? “I have heard the grumbling of the people of Israel. Say to them, ‘At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall be filled with bread. Then you shall know that I am the Lord your God’” (Ex. 16:12).

God responds with grace. He gives the people what they do not deserve, passing over their grumbling and providing them with daily bread. This is striking. In our daily struggle to hunger for God’s word as we should, in all our wayward desires and distractedness, God still provides what we need most. He gives us himself through the daily manna of our Bibles, through an encounter with his Son brought about graciously by his Spirit.

We grumble. God gives.

This is who he is for us in the wilderness, friends. We may wonder if our appetite for God and his words has grown at all over the years; we will struggle with discouragement and failure, even as we pursue such growth; we may be plunged into a depth of suffering that makes us question whether God’s promises are true, if he is really for us after all; we may be tempted to turn from him to lesser things.

But he doesn’t turn from us. Instead, he continues to give us himself. He speaks, that we may know that he is the Lord our God. Even when we grumble, even when we turn away, he provides.

Good Works and Good News

Fast-forward 1,200 years. Jesus lifts up his eyes from the mountain and sees a large crowd coming toward him (John 6). It had been a long week of ministry for his disciples, and they were not yet called to rest. There was more work to be done, more people to help.

More grace to be given.

So Jesus turns to Philip and asks, “Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?” (6:5).

Flustered, the disciples look at each other, sure that no amount of money would be enough to feed a crowd like this. Andrew volunteers a small boy’s lunch—five loaves of bread and two fish—but he is also making a point. There just isn’t enough to go around.

Or so they think.

Jesus tells his disciples to have the people sit down in the grass. And he does what he alone can do. He feeds them. By a miraculous multiplication, he feeds the crowd. And not just barely, but abundantly—so abundantly that there are leftovers. So abundantly that the crowds start following him around, wanting more of what he has to give.

“We want to perform God’s works, too. What should we do?” his followers ask him. Jesus takes this opportunity to correct their idea of what a good work is, of what their souls need most: “This is the only work God wants from you: Believe in the one he has sent” (John 6:29 NLT)

Believe. This is also what Jesus wants most from us, friends. He wants our hearts.

Just as the crowds did, we often think we can earn God’s approval by performing the necessary “good works” of the Christian life, including Bible reading. We wrongly conclude that we have to “get this right” in order for God to love us. And if we don’t get it right? Then we must not be serious enough, holy enough, or good enough. And so we try harder; we get up earlier; we study longer—only to find ourselves more tired and discouraged than when we began. And as the guilt presses in, it’s easy to want to give up.

Like the forgetful crowds we anxiously ask, “What should we do?”

But this plan, friends, has not been about doing everything right as it pertains to your Bible. It has not been about working your way toward some kind of “good Christian” status in God’s eyes, or in the eyes of others, through the way you engage with Scripture. None of us are good enough for God and his grace, and that is the whole point. That is precisely why we run to his word: to receive from him what we cannot provide for ourselves. All of us are hungry, needy, and desperate, and only Jesus can give us what we most need. Himself. All is grace.

This is what he told the crowds that day, and it is also good news for us:

I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst. . . . All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out. For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me. And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day. (John 6:35–39)

No matter what your Bible reading track record has been, if you have come to Christ for the eternal life he alone can give, you are safe. He will never cast you out. If you have taken hold of Jesus by faith, admitting your helplessness and humbling yourself before him, then you can rest assured he will never, never let you go—no matter how messy your attempts to grow.

Has it been years since you opened your Bible? Come to him. It is never too late to start.

Has your heart been cold toward his words? Come to him. He creates burning hearts.

Have you been plagued by doubts and fear? Come to him. His promises are trustworthy.

Are you hungry? Come to him. He will fill you. He will give you life through his words.

Feasting Forever

So where do we go from here?

We keep admitting how hungry we are, embracing that hunger and letting it drive us to Jesus and his word, again and again. We remember that no amount of “right Bible reading” will save us. Only Jesus saves. We encounter him through Scripture, where his Spirit works to fill our souls with lasting satisfaction in him (John 6:63).

We remember the Holy One who, in the wilderness, fought every temptation and hardship by fully embracing the words of God (Luke 4:1–13), and we rejoice that he reigns in heaven to help us right now. We walk through the wilderness with him alongside us, as he beckons us to take up his word, trust his work, and embrace his heart.

As Jesus asked his friends, so he asks us: “Do you want to go away as well?”

No, Lord. Where else can we go?

Jesus has the words of eternal life as he feeds our hungry souls today and promises to feast with us on the last day, and forever.

To read more on growing your appetite for God's Word, check out Help for the Hungry Soul: Eight Encouragements to Grow Your Appetite for God's Word. by Kristen Wetherell