Hunger for God
A. Murray:
"Desires for other things..." (Mk 4:19) is an enemy. And the only weapon that will triumph is a deeper hunger for God. The weakness of our hunger for God is not because he is unsavory, but because we keep ourselves stuffed with "other things." What is at stake here is not just the good of our souls, but also the glory of God. God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him. The fight of faith is a fight to feast on all that God is for us in Christ. What we hunger for most, we worship.
Between the dangers of self-denial and self-indulgence there is a path of pleasant pain. It is not the pathological pleasure of a masochist, but the passion of a lover's quest: "I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish in order that I may gain Christ" (Phil. 3:8).
The greatest enemy of hunger for God is not poison but apple pie. It is not the banquet of the wicked that dulls our appetite for heaven, but endless nibbling at the table of the world. For all the ill that Satan can do, when God describes what keeps us from the banquet table of his love, it is a piece of land, a yoke of oxen and a wife (Luke 14:18-20). The greatest adversary of love to God is not his enemies but his gifts. And the most deadly appetites are not for the poison of evil, but for the simple pleasures of earth. For when these replace an appetite for God himself, the idolatry is scarcely recognizable, and almost incurable.
Some people hear the word of God, and a desire for God is awakened in their hearts. But then, " they go on their way they are choked with worries and riches and pleasures of this life" (Lk 8:14). In another place he said, "The desires for other things enter in and choke the word, and it becomes unfruitful" (Mk 4:19). "The pleasures of this life" and "the desires for other things"-these are not evil in themselves. These are not vices. These are gifts of God. They are your basic meat and potatoes and coffee and gardening and reading and decorating and traveling and shopping and exercising and talking. And all of them can become deadly substitutes for God.
Our hunger for God should mean that we will do anything and go without anything if, by any means, we might protect ourselves from the deadening effects of innocent delights and preserve the sweet longing of our homesickness for God.
God wills to know the actual, lived-out reality of our preference for him over all things. And he wills that we have the testimony of our own authenticity through acts of actual preference for God over his gifts. A real lived-out human act of preference for God over his gifts is the actual lived-out glorification of God's excellence for which he created the world.
We easily deceive ourselves that we love God unless our love is frequently put to the test, and we must show our preferences not merely with the words but with sacrifice. Our preferring faculty is kept on alert and sharp. It does not let the issue rest. It forces us to ask repeatedly: Do I really hunger for God? Do I miss him? Do I long for him? Or have I begun to be content with his gifts?
The strongest, most mature Christians are the hungriest for God. It might seem that those who eat most would be least hungry. But that's not the way it works with an inexhaustible fountain, and infinite feast and a glorious Lord. When you take your stand on the finished work of God in Christ, and begin to drink at the River of Life and eat the Bread of Heaven, and know that you have found the end of all your longings, you only get hungrier for God.
If you don't feel strong desires for the manifestation of the glory of God, it is not because you have drunk deeply and are satisfied. It is because you have nibbled so long at the table of the world. Your soul is stuffed with small things and there is no room for the great. God did not create you for this. There is an appetite for God. And it can be awakened. The true mortification of our carnal nature is not a simple matter of denial and discipline. It is an internal, spiritual matter of finding more contentment in Christ than in anything else.
"Open my eyes, that I may behold wonderful things from Thy law" (Psalm 119:18). And if we do not see him in his greatness, we will not desire him in his fullness."
"Desires for other things..." (Mk 4:19) is an enemy. And the only weapon that will triumph is a deeper hunger for God. The weakness of our hunger for God is not because he is unsavory, but because we keep ourselves stuffed with "other things." What is at stake here is not just the good of our souls, but also the glory of God. God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him. The fight of faith is a fight to feast on all that God is for us in Christ. What we hunger for most, we worship.
Between the dangers of self-denial and self-indulgence there is a path of pleasant pain. It is not the pathological pleasure of a masochist, but the passion of a lover's quest: "I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish in order that I may gain Christ" (Phil. 3:8).
The greatest enemy of hunger for God is not poison but apple pie. It is not the banquet of the wicked that dulls our appetite for heaven, but endless nibbling at the table of the world. For all the ill that Satan can do, when God describes what keeps us from the banquet table of his love, it is a piece of land, a yoke of oxen and a wife (Luke 14:18-20). The greatest adversary of love to God is not his enemies but his gifts. And the most deadly appetites are not for the poison of evil, but for the simple pleasures of earth. For when these replace an appetite for God himself, the idolatry is scarcely recognizable, and almost incurable.
Some people hear the word of God, and a desire for God is awakened in their hearts. But then, " they go on their way they are choked with worries and riches and pleasures of this life" (Lk 8:14). In another place he said, "The desires for other things enter in and choke the word, and it becomes unfruitful" (Mk 4:19). "The pleasures of this life" and "the desires for other things"-these are not evil in themselves. These are not vices. These are gifts of God. They are your basic meat and potatoes and coffee and gardening and reading and decorating and traveling and shopping and exercising and talking. And all of them can become deadly substitutes for God.
Our hunger for God should mean that we will do anything and go without anything if, by any means, we might protect ourselves from the deadening effects of innocent delights and preserve the sweet longing of our homesickness for God.
God wills to know the actual, lived-out reality of our preference for him over all things. And he wills that we have the testimony of our own authenticity through acts of actual preference for God over his gifts. A real lived-out human act of preference for God over his gifts is the actual lived-out glorification of God's excellence for which he created the world.
We easily deceive ourselves that we love God unless our love is frequently put to the test, and we must show our preferences not merely with the words but with sacrifice. Our preferring faculty is kept on alert and sharp. It does not let the issue rest. It forces us to ask repeatedly: Do I really hunger for God? Do I miss him? Do I long for him? Or have I begun to be content with his gifts?
The strongest, most mature Christians are the hungriest for God. It might seem that those who eat most would be least hungry. But that's not the way it works with an inexhaustible fountain, and infinite feast and a glorious Lord. When you take your stand on the finished work of God in Christ, and begin to drink at the River of Life and eat the Bread of Heaven, and know that you have found the end of all your longings, you only get hungrier for God.
If you don't feel strong desires for the manifestation of the glory of God, it is not because you have drunk deeply and are satisfied. It is because you have nibbled so long at the table of the world. Your soul is stuffed with small things and there is no room for the great. God did not create you for this. There is an appetite for God. And it can be awakened. The true mortification of our carnal nature is not a simple matter of denial and discipline. It is an internal, spiritual matter of finding more contentment in Christ than in anything else.
"Open my eyes, that I may behold wonderful things from Thy law" (Psalm 119:18). And if we do not see him in his greatness, we will not desire him in his fullness."
posted by the grindstone | 12:02 PM
1 Comments:
This is a very stirring post. I was especially convicted by the statement, "And the most deadly appetites are not for the poison of evil, but for the simple pleasures of earth." I know that it is easy for me to replace God in my appetite by justifying what I am desiring instead as "good". This entry helped me see that I allow myself to become distracted by even the very gifts that God is granting to me.
I want to be sharp in my worship of Him alone and fixed in preserving that "sweet longing of our homesickness for God." Thank you for the challenging words, I'm looking forward to your next entry already.
-Christa
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