Hunger is a good thing, especially for life beyond the physical

By Mark A. Taylor

I know a slim, fit marathoner who was several pounds heavier than overweight years ago before I met him. He told me he must go to bed each night just a little bit hungry in order to maintain the waist size he’s worked so hard to achieve.

At least some measure of hunger is with him every day. Frankly, I can’t relate.

I have friends whose diet plan was, “If you’re not hungry, don’t eat.” Seems simple, but like most people, I often eat whether I’m hungry or not. I’m one of the millions whose privileged habit is to eat just because it’s mealtime. We eat for entertainment, to celebrate, to distract us from responsibility, or to help us cope with too much of it. Few of us are ever hungry. Most of us can’t fathom what hunger really feels like.

It's the same with thirst. Doctors tell us if we feel thirsty, we’re already dehydrated. But few of us let it go that far. Most of us take for granted the fact that water will be there for us whenever we have the notion to take a sip.

Longing

So when we come to the fourth Beatitude, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness,” we may not feel its impact. Commentators tell us what the words meant to the poverty-stricken seekers who first heard them; they lived every day with want. Like the birds flocking to our feeders in the winter, they knew their daily duty was finding food. Drawing water every day from deep wells in an arid land was their only way to escape death. 

But maybe we can remember that time our flight was delayed and we arrived far past mealtime and our stomachs were growling. Or maybe we can think about a hike up a mountain or an afternoon at the beach when our water bottles got empty far too quickly. Maybe we can muster some memory of longing for a simple hamburger or a working water fountain and wonder, “How often do I feel that instinct to seek the things of God?”

Dabbling

I fear too many Christians view spiritual nourishment like most of us view our physical eating and drinking. It’s more about convenience or pleasure than urgency. We choose a church for what pleases us. We go to small groups to be with our friends—until one of them irritates us and we quit.  We enjoy a Bible teacher the way some dabble at appetizers at a Super Bowl party—he or she better be enjoyable and fresh. None of us eats cheese puffs and cocktail franks for our health, and few of us want a sermon that makes us uncomfortable with the truth.

It's not that we’re not interested in righteousness. In fact, many can identify with my reaction here: I’m more than interested. I like spiritual things.

I bounce among several different daily devotional plans every year; I intend to read the Bible and pray. I listen to Christian music in my car. I buy Christian books, and sometimes I read one of them. I want to avoid spiritual junk food. I try to assemble wholesome inputs. But upon reflection, this feels to me more like nibbling than trying to satisfy a persistent hunger.

Pursuing

It's good I’m trying, I guess. Because the national scene isn’t pretty. 

• Pornography use swells, even among believers.
• Churchgoers have made politics and government something resembling religion. (How great it would be to see Christians marching in the streets, chanting the words of the Beatitudes!)
• A year after the national outrage over racial injustice, most white Christians have settled back into preoccupation with other priorities.
• Poverty persists, but too many comfort themselves believing “It’s their fault” or “There’s nothing we can do about it.” 

I’m haunted by John Stott’s statement that “biblical righteousness is more than a private and personal affair; it includes social righteousness.” He explains:

“. . . social righteousness, as we learn from the law and the prophets, is concerned with seeking man’s liberation from oppression, together with the promotion of civil rights, justice in the law courts, integrity in business dealings, and honour in home and family affairs. Thus Christians are committed to hunger for righteousness in the whole human community as something pleasing to a righteous God.”

I certainly don’t want to be unrighteous, any more than I want to suffer from physical malnutrition. But seek righteousness? Pursue righteousness like a homeless woman rummaging through dumpsters for something, anything, to eat? Long for righteousness like a thirsty desert wanderer praying the well in the distance is more than a mirage?

Checking

I’m not sure about that. I think I’d rather leave this Beatitude and move on to the next one. Better yet, let me memorize the 23rd Psalm or quote John 3:16 or ask God to give me “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness,” and all those other wonderful gifts. I want to thank a “good, good Father” who showers me with so many good, good blessings.

It’s great to relax in that goodness, you know? But there’s nothing comfortable about hunger and thirst. And as long as I’m at ease, I’m pretty sure I’ve settled for less than what God wants.

It’s time for me to do an appetite check. And I’m thinking it would be good for me, like the diet-conscious athlete I know and admire, to end each day at least a little bit hungry.

This is the fourth in a series of posts,
each examining another Beatitude’s impact on my approach to God
and decisions about myself. 

Photos by Andres Ayrton, and MART PRODUCTION from Pexels

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