My life isn’t something I brought into existence. My DNA is a gift from my mother and father, who received theirs from their parents. I am one branch of a living vine joining the past of my ancestors to the lives of my children, nieces and nephews, and beyond.

The same is true for you. You came from somewhere and someone. But these genetic strands linking us to some and not others are not all there is to us: the most fundamental truth I know is that we are all God created and God related. We are incarnated with specific genes, in particular families, but our primary identities reside in the love and creative power of God. Our genetic dust will return to the ground, but our true selves will return to God.

It is the love of God that defines us, and endows us with gifts to serve others. It’s a good thing for us to ponder. It’s so easy to idolize David: he both accomplished much and failed spectacularly. But he wasn’t self-made; at his best, he joyfully embraced his God-given and sustained life.

We won’t be modern day Davids, and we aren’t supposed to be. We are created, talents and flaws, to be ourselves; God made us who we are for a reason. This verse is for us as:

See,  I made him a witness to the peoples, a leader and commander for the peoples. [Isaiah 55:4, NRSV]

I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David. (Isaiah 55:3b, NRSV)

In William P. Young’s The Shack, whenever God mentions someone, she says she is especially fond of him or her. Every single person, every child, is a favorite. No one is half-loved or a quarter-appreciated in comparison to someone else. Every single person resides in the heart of God, a beloved child.

In a world where competition and favoritism exclude the majority to the dubious advantage of the few, this makes no sense. How can there not be the favorite? But God doesn’t choose favorites: everyone is a favorite, beloved for whom he or she is.

The shepherd-musician-king, David, is God’s beloved; God surrounded David with love and chose him for a holy life. The very same is true of you and me – and everyone else in this world. God is especially fond of you. You are a delight in the eyes of the Lord:don’t let anyone or anything convince you otherwise.

[Young, William P., The Shack, USA: Windblown Media, 2007]

Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live.  

(Isaiah 55:3a, NRSV)

One of my graduate school super powers was being able to block out the noise and activity around me. I could write while someone else watched television and read in a noisy, crowded cafeteria. Traffic noise, neighbors arguing, popcorn popping – none of it could break my focus on the academic task at hand. That skill served me well in those years, but it should have come with this warning:

Do not mistake this work skill for a life skill! Taken out of its proper context, it causes more harm than good.

Efficiency in a task at the expense of awareness of those around me isn’t a virtue if the task is trivial. Conversation around the dinner table, listening to my husband and sons talk about their ideas and daily adventures – these shouldn’t be tuned out in favor of doing a Sunday crossword puzzle every Sunday afternoon. There’s a time to focus on a single task, and a time put it away to engage in the world around me.

I think that’s what Isaiah is saying: attend to what is important and life-giving. Listen, don’t just hear the voices of others as background noise. And if this is true about the people around us, isn’t it also true of God?

An abundant, godly life requires active listening to God’s call, the self’s disclosure, and the deepest longings of neighbor. If I incline my ear to these, if I seek God, only then will I truly live my life.

[For the full text, click “Isaiah 55” above.]

Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. [Isaiah 55:2b, NRSV]

I didn’t have the time or inclination to make my usual oven fries to go with dinner, so I picked up a bag of sour cream and onion chips. I hadn’t tried the brand or the flavor, so this was a game of potato chip roulette. I lost. The chips were thin and the seasoning not quite right, although I couldn’t say exactly why.

The logical conclusion to this tale is something like after a couple of chips, I gave it up and swapped in my favorite rice crackers and some slices of sharp cheddar. The true outcome was unsatisfied with the chips, I ate twice as many as I usually do. Why would I continue to eat chips that I knew wouldn’t satisfy me, as if a larger quantity of substandard chips would miraculously gain in quality if I just kept eating?

Good food satisfies, bad food doesn’t. A small amount of rich food is plenty, but no amount of junk food is ever enough. Enough of the good stuff isn’t just as good as a feast of empty calories: it’s delightfully, immeasurably better.

If I lived out this truth at every meal, I’d be healthier for it. If I did the same with all aspects of my life, not just the food on my plate, I’d know that what I’ve been given (and what I haven’t) is more than enough.

Bon Appetit!