Filling Our Hungry Souls
More input. Less output.
That’s the phrase I repeated to myself this past month. Maybe it sounds selfish, I suppose, especially coming off a season when I’d taken steps back and said no more than a few times already.
But somehow, as the decade wound down, so did the strength of my soul. I felt dry and worn and hungry. That’s the only way I can describe it. Putting my words out into the world felt like giving those last few crumbs of bread away. I had nothing to say, nothing of substance to offer. I needed, well, nourishment for my soul—the thing I talk about as the tagline for my own work.
So I took about a month off from posting on my blog, sharing on Instagram, or submitting guest pieces. Instead, I read fiction and cooked for fun. I met up with friends and dove into Scripture. I played with my kids and took time to pray. I scribbled notes when an idea hit, but I didn’t do anything with them. I’m letting those simmer, giving myself the space to offer them to others when they’re actually ready.
It’s amazing what a difference a good meal makes. It gives you a bit of comfort, joy, and strength to keep moving. Just like our bodies, if our souls starve, we burn out. What would it look like if we savored this nourishment frequently and regularly?
Some seasons call for more output, of course. If all we ever do is indulge in the feast alone, if we hoard the gifts, words, ministry, or resources all to ourselves, we’re guilty of a sort of spiritual gluttony. What’s done in the name of self-care can all too quickly become selfishness if we’re not cautious. We’re called to give, and we know God in his grace can multiply even our stale breadcrumbs.
But I wonder if sometimes we’re missing out on giving more because we haven’t yet feasted ourselves. We haven’t taken in enough through prayer, community, his Word, worship, beauty, art, and all the good gifts of God. And so we’re left trying to feed others with a dry crust of bread when we could be inviting them to a banquet.
He Prepares a Table
In the second half of Psalm 23, David uses the metaphor of host to describe God’s goodness. The LORD is a host who has prepared a bountiful feast. Psalm 23:5 says, “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.” God puts his generosity, salvation, goodness, love, and provision on display for his guest. Then in verse six, instead of enemies pursuing the psalmist, God’s goodness and love follow. There’s no need to fear.
One commentator remarked, “The psalmist does not say that our cup will always be full or that our heads will always be anointed with oil, but we do have the promise that God’s beneficence will be our lifelong companion.”[1] Life doesn’t always look like a lavish banquet. Yet what if we’re so busy running through the proverbial drive-thru that we miss out on the feast offered to us in the presence of God?
He Fills the Hungry Soul
I don’t want to miss out anymore. And I don’t want to sit at the table alone, either. I get to taste and see that the Lord is good.[2] I get to help set the table and prepare the meal, so to speak. I get to invite others to the feast and share with them the joy I experience as I savor the presence of God. But I can’t share what I don’t have. After all, it’s out of the abundance of the heart that our mouths speak.[3] What nonsense do I end up saying when my heart goes unfed—or when I feed it junk?
So let’s taste and see. Let’s pull up chairs and dine at the banquet. Let’s be satisfied with God’s goodness so we can offer that goodness with others.[4] “For he satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things” (Psalm 107:9).
[1] Longman, Tremper E., David E. Garland, and Willem E. VanGemeren. Psalms. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2008, p. 256.
[2] Psalm 34:8
[3] Matthew 12:34, Luke 6:45
[4] Jeremiah 31:14
