While communing with God this morning, I caught myself anxiously praying about all that has been staring me down and spinning me silly. That’s when I sensed the Holy Spirit, like an anchor to my soul, drawing me back to this precious moment in time and reminding me of God’s faithfulness to meet the needs.

All will be given. 

Those were the words sent to settle my stirred-up soul. Those are the words the Holy Spirit has been whispering to me for several weeks now, most likely in the hope that one day they’ll finally reach the roots of me. 

All will be given. 

Open, dear daughter. Do not fear. Trust in the care of God. 

It’s been a lot over here lately. For a (thankfully short) stretch of time, I’m working four part-time jobs while also filling several labor-intensive volunteer roles. In addition, I remain a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend and concerned citizen. 

Like an anxious chipmunk, I’ve been scurrying about, stashing supplies for the season to come. I’ve been asking the God of daily bread for graces I don’t yet need. I’ve been trying to hoard all the help I can find, out of fear it’ll run dry. As if God’s mercies could ever end. 

They cannot. We know this, right?

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him’ ” (Lamentations 3:22-24). 

The Lord is my portion. This changes everything. 

When faced with unimaginable need, we do not find the writer of Lamentations scrambling about and scavenging for scraps. Rather, he settles down into one central thought: The Lord is my portion, and present indeed. 

It is this level of trust I sense the Spirit inviting me into. Trust that there is enough. That God is generous. That no good thing will be withheld. 

When a group that gathered on a hillside was worked up and worried about their daily needs, Jesus directed their thoughts to the birds and the flowers and then to their heavenly Father who tends them both. 

“Look at the birds in the sky,” he said. “They do not store food for winter . . .
and yet, they are always fed because your heavenly Father feeds them. . . . If he looks after them, of course he will look after you” (Matthew 6:26, The Voice). 

Of course God will. Be still, my sweet scampering soul. 

“The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup” (Psalm 16:5). God not only gives us our portion, God is our portion. Jesus, the bread of life, the living water that never runs dry. God Almighty, broken for us to feast upon and be filled. We shall not want. 

God is compassion, kindness, comfort. God is wisdom, peace and way. God is laid right out as a fellowship meal. “Open your mouth wide and I will fill it” (Psalm 81:10), God says. It is God’s pleasure. 

In this issue of Anabaptist World, we are celebrating the 500th anniversary of Anabaptism. I look forward to reading it because I don’t know all the history that has formed the roots from which you’ve sprung. 

I came to the Mennonites later in life, out of the Methodists and by marriage. But there’s one thing I know: You fine folks know how to feed people. How to make more with less. How to set a large portion on a newcomer’s plate. 

Perhaps God’s mercies are like this. Perhaps I don’t need to stuff my pockets with extra rolls before I head back home. Perhaps God’s abundance exceeds even yours. Imagine. 

The Lord is our portion, and all will be given. The Lord is our portion; we shall not want. Instead of worrying and scurrying, let’s come to the table like the Mennonites we are, to feast on the mercy and manna God gives. 

Bread of life, broken for us,

the feast upon which we feed.

We come to your table

to consume fresh compassion.

You are our portion and peace.