The Manna: A Parable

Settle in with a nice cup of coffee, and I shall tell you a story...

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A long time ago, in the days when the Israelites wandered in the wilderness, there was a young woman named Rachel.  Rachel was an energetic, organized, and efficient housewife - at least she liked to think so.  She took pride in keeping her household running smoothly.  Actually, when it came to that, there wasn't a lot to do.  There wasn't much cleaning because their possessions were so few.  And since there was only one food to choose from, meal preparation should have been fairly simple.  Should have been.

You see, it was this stuff they called "manna", because no one knew what it actually was.  Every morning, the tiny flakes appeared on the ground along with the dew.  Every morning, the Israelites were to gather enough for that day, according to how many people were in their family.  Rachel was content to follow God's instructions for the first few weeks.  She arose early every morning and gathered the manna.  It didn't seem like a chore, because she knew without it, they would starve - and she was thankful for God's provision.  But Rachel was too efficient, too analytical, too far-sighted for her own good.  She got to thinking, What if one day there isn't any manna on the ground?  Maybe this daily-gathering routine is all a mistake, a waste of time.

That morning she gathered double.  She prepared the same amount as usual, then set aside the other half for the next day.  A sense of comfort and security settled in her heart.  She would not have to worry now; she had taken care of tomorrow.  The next morning she woke up to the sound of her friends Judith and Leah outside the tent.  They were talking and laughing softly as they gathered the manna.  Rachel smiled pityingly to herself and rolled over to sleep some more.  She did not have to get up so early and gather manna.  When she finally got up, she went over to the jar where she had left the manna.  Lifting the lid, she was horrified at what met her eyes...her manna was filled with WORMS, and a horrible stench filled her nostrils.  She ran from the tent, weeping in revulsion, and dumped the manna on the ground.  Now she had no food for her family.  Guilty and defeated, she went to Judith.  Judith had obediently gathered the manna that morning.  She willingly shared what God had provided with her faithless, foolish friend.

Only a week later, Rachel again decided that gathering the manna daily wasn't what she wanted to do.  It's just that it was so hot last time, she reasoned.  I'll make sure I put it in a cooler spot this time, and it'll be fine.  So she did.  But the next morning, the sight of those repulsive worms met her eyes, and the sadly familiar sour scent drifted up from her jar.  Disgusted, she dumped it outside and with slumped shoulders, went in search of Judith.  As Judith handed her friend a jar of her own manna, she looked Rachel straight in the eye.  "You know what happens when you try to do things on your own - saving manna for the next day.  Why don't you trust God?" she whispered.  Rachel shook her head sadly but said nothing as she took the manna.  I won't do this again, she assured herself.

Scenes like this repeated themselves often in Rachel's life.  She couldn't seem to keep from taking things into her own hands and refusing to trust God.  Sometimes she would discover the spoiled manna early enough to run outside and gather more.  She would thank God for being merciful.  Other times, the opportunity was gone before she realized her mistake, and she'd go to Judith or another friend and beg some from them.  Often she'd rather have hidden in her shame, but the hungry cries of her children forced her to swallow her pride and admit her failure to trust.  Time and again she vowed not to repeat her mistake, but how quickly she seemed to forget God's provision - and the consequences of disobedience.  Still God was patient and faithful.  The manna appeared on the ground every morning, available to anyone who would simply walk outside and trust Him.

Nearly forty years passed.  Rachel was no longer a young woman.  She was stooped and graying, but her hearing was still sharp.  Often the rumblings of discontent in the camp came to her ears.  Leaning on her walking stick, she would hobble over to the grumbling Israelite and point a gnarled finger.  "This manna is God's miracle to us.  Every day for forty years He has sent it, just like He promised He would.  He has never let us down.  Do you think you should complain?  Do you think you have reason not to trust Him?  He has done exactly what He said.  All He asks is that we trust Him to be who He is, and to obey His instructions.  He told us to gather for the day, and leave tomorrow in His hands."  A few heads would nod in agreement with Grandma Rachel, and she would quietly walk away.  God had shown a faithless, doubting young woman that He remains lovingly faithful in spite of His people.

-The End-

(Disclaimer: Yes, the Rachel referred to is me, although I don't have a family.  And I pray it will NOT take me 40 years to learn to trust God's daily grace.)