Losing My Lunch


I’ve wallowed long enough. Remember my idiot day? It’s still with me but I’m feeling a might better.

I had a pastor, once, who used the expression, “He really ate my lunch”, to refer to the devil getting the best of him. I love that metaphor. That just sums it right up, doesn’t it? God has been talking a lot about how much He has for us and how we can have everything that He has in store. He lays out a veritable banquet of delights before us everyday with more on the way. We truly want for nothing. Why is it, then, that we allow the enemy to have a seat and start serving himself? He muscles up, like he owns the place, snatches our plate right out of our hands, and starts woofing down the garlic mashed potatoes. And we let him! What’s up with that?

I’m done with sitting in the corner waiting for the scraps. Give me the big chair and the big spoon. My friend Kim told me that she used to sit in her father’s lap and eat from his plate until she was ten? or twelve? years old. What a beautiful description of what Abba offers us. We can sit right in His lap and eat from His plate. There’s nothing second rate about that.

I’ve been letting the enemy of my soul devour everything from my life and I’m getting the indigestion. I’m not letting him have my lunch, anymore. I like my lunch, God packed it just for me. It’s mine.

I remember another story about someone giving up their lunch. A boy offered his humble meal of five barley loaves and two fish to Jesus and the disciples. (John 6:9) What happened next? The Word says that Jesus fed five thousand men, not counting women and children. That could have been well over ten thousand people. Not only is Abba interested in me and my needs, but He uses what I give Him to feed the world. I’d say that was a far better deal that anything my enemy can offer. Hmmmm, huddled, alone, in the corner eating crumbs or sitting in my Father’s lap enjoying His goodness with everyone. Hmm, let me think. What? Who needs to think?


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