BREAKFAST

I don’t like to eat too early in the morning. Today it was ten before I cut up my usual oranges topped with plain yogurt and salted sunflower seeds, added a cappuccino made from freshly ground decaf beans, and for good measure juiced a couple of grapefruit. I’m enjoying this repast as I write—and as I think about the significance of breaking my fast.

I’m never hungry in the morning, though I haven’t eaten for over twelve hours. It takes those first few bites to get the saliva running, I suppose. At first, my body resists; but if I wait until my stomach growls, I sometimes don’t eat till afternoon.

This lethargy is mirrored in my inner life as well. Learning something new takes effort and isn’t appealing at first—until I’ve turned the first few pages or clicked onto an engaging site. But once I’ve started, the intellectual juices get flowing and I feast on ideas. It’s the same with my soul; it needs nutrition as well, and too often the fast stretches long enough that I lose my appetite for things of the Spirit. I need to take the first bite to remember that the words of God are sweeter than honey and the honeycomb (Ps. 19:10).