St. Augustine wrote, “Christ is the bread, awaiting hunger.” This was in the context of communion, but like a good junkyard project I want to tear it apart and put it back together in a different context.
The quote reminded me of something from my first book. There was a season in my life when things were going exceedingly well. Everything was clicking. It was like I had no worries at all. No “buts” here, it really was just a great season in life.
As I was driving one day and thinking on this — somewhat smugly I suppose — a thought gripped me. It’s almost as if, gulp, almost as if, yikes, almost as if … I don’t need God.
That scared me. It shook me so much I pulled over to the side of the road to reflect on it. Read the book if you want the full story.
So how does Augustine’s line, “Christ is the bread, awaiting hunger” fit into this?
Sometimes we have so much, life is so filled with blessings, that we live in ignorance of our own internal hunger. The wealth around us is so tempting, so distracting, that it insulates us from a deeper hunger. The longing for God becomes a faint whisper amidst the noise of our own success.
It’s like a kid in a candy shop — tons of fun, but not exactly a nutritional diet. Or like an acquaintance who once told me he only has a drinking problem when things are going well and he can celebrate. When times are tough he turns toward healthier decisions.
Jesus said, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to Me will never hunger…”
But if we don’t sense our hunger, will we understand the generosity of this offer? We become like the socialite who has too many dinner invitations to choose from and doesn’t value any of them.
The challenge of wealth is not to get rid of it. The challenge of wealth is to live in the midst of it — as most of us in the developed world do — and not allow it to distract us from our deeper hunger.
No wonder it’s tough for the rich to get into heaven. Lord, please make me a bruised camel as I find a way through the eye of the needle.