At first, we reject it as insufficient. We wanted deliverance. Not sustenance. We wanted the pain to stop, not to be held up through the pain. We are just like the children of Israel who rejoiced at God’s delivering grace in the parting of the Red Sea, but complained bitterly at his sustaining grace in the provision of manna. With every heartache we want a Red Sea miracle. A miracle that would astonish the world, reward us for our faithfulness, make our life glorious. We don’t want manna. But God knows better. Each day he continues to put manna before us. At first, we grumble. It seems like second best. It wasn’t the feast we envisioned. It was bland and monotonous. But after a while, we begin to taste the manna, embrace it, and savor its sweetness.
This manna, this sustaining grace, is what holds us up. It revives us when we are weak. It drives us to our knees. And unlike delivering grace which, once received, inadvertently moves us to greater independence from God, sustaining grace keeps us tethered to him. We need it every day. Like manna, it is new every morning. God has delivered us and answered some prayers with a resounding “yes” in jaw-dropping, supernatural ways. We look back at them with gratitude and awe. Yet after those prayers were answered, we go back to our everyday life, often less dependent on God. But the answers of “no” or “wait,” and those answered by imperceptible degrees over time, will do a far deeper work in our soul. They keep us connected to the Giver and not his gifts. They force us to seek him. And in seeking him, we will discover the intimacy of his fellowship. In the midst of our deepest pain, in the darkness, God’s presence will be unmistakable. Through excruciating struggles, he speaks to us. He comforts us through his word. He whispers to us in the dark, as we lie awake on our tear-stained pillow. He sings beautiful songs over us of his love.
At first, we just want the agony to go away. We don’t rejoice in the moment. We don’t rejoice at all. But as we cling to God and his promises, he sustains us. Joy is at first elusive. We have glimpses of delight, but it is mostly slow and incremental. Yet over time, we realize we have an inexplicable joy — not in our circumstances, but in the God who cares so fiercely for us. Eating the everyday, bland, sometimes unwelcome manna produces a joy beyond our wildest imaginings. We will find that this joy, which is often birthed out of suffering, can never be taken away; it only gets richer over time. Our circumstances cannot diminish it. It produces lasting fruit like endurance, character, and hope. It draws us to God in breathtaking ways. It achieves a weight of glory that is beyond all comparison.
I still pray earnestly for deliverance, for the many things I long to see changed, both in my life and in the world. That is right. It’s biblical. We need to bring our requests to God. But as much as I long for deliverance, for delivering grace, I see the exquisite blessing in sustaining grace. It’s not about getting what I want; it’s about God giving me what I desperately need: himself.
