It was a quiet time, early in the morning. On a cluttered table in an almost empty room sat a bowl, a cup and a spoon. It was an average room. A stove, a refrigerator and the usual scattering of items around the counter top spoke nothing unusual of this space. Everything on the table could have been easily missed except the bowl, the cup and the spoon. It wasn’t that they had been used. Used dishes are normal in a kitchen. Nor was it what they were used for. A small brown ring in the bottom of the cup suggested coffee. The grease and flecks of fluffy yellow betrayed the sausage and eggs already eaten. The spoon had probably been used in both and was then licked sparkling clean. At least to the naked eye. And before them all sat an average man with graying hair. His face was hidden, buried deep in his weathered hands as he sought answers to the serious questions of life he had come to face.
Life, at times, was easy. Some days a meal did not need much more than simple. Sometimes elaborate gets in the way of good. Not that elaborate is bad, just that it can be more than is necessary, more than what can be appreciated. His belly was satisfied by his meager breakfast. The sun was up and the birds had changed from their pre-dawn melodies. The coffee was robust and hearty and the odor lingered strong. In the cool of the morning without the comfort of the previous evenings gentle breeze his face did not rise from the blisters and calloused hands which cradled it.
His mind was not on the coffee or the food or the birds. His heart urged for an answer yet the silence continued. What could they really mean? Oh surely he had used them and they would need to be cleaned. The spoon had served well to stir and scoop and scrape. The cup had held the heat of the the comforting stimulant which warmed his body and awakened his mind. The sausage and eggs which the bowl had contained and delivered was his favorite breakfast. Then after he had finished, his mind repeated an admonition to be satisfied with the Lord’s provisions. Still, he felt like it was supposed to be more than just breakfast. A meal was fine and enjoyable by itself. But the haunting sense that something else was intended would not depart.
He was after all a man of faith. He sought direction and guidance from one he could not see. He plumbed the depths of ancient writings. Sometimes revealing wondrous truths to be told. At others, the openly undefinable void of “What does it mean?” Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The pig or the sausage? The overwhelming joy of the presence of the Creator God of the universe or the lonely dark wondering of doubts and fears? Which comes first? And when? When would the Lord allow his understanding to be opened?
Today? Perhaps. Today is declared to be the day of salvation for them who would choose to believe. Today is the day the Lord has made, we are instructed to Rejoice in it. Today He will hear and answer. And so he waits, expectantly, hopefully, prayerfully. Today his Lord will answer, perhaps. The Provision always came from the Lord. And when it comes with wisdom and understanding it would be accompanied by knowledge and faith. So patiently, he waits upon the provider of the bowl, the cup and the spoon.