This common phrase tossed around in church circles seems to lose its meaning with overuse.
What does it mean? And what does this have to do with enough?
Growing up, the smell of bread meant Sabbath. Sunday afternoons we walked in the door from church greeted by the warm, inviting smell of homemade bread baking. It symbolized the end of a long work day for my pastor dad, a day for napping and homework and reading and football. Coupled with a rich creamy stew, this was our one big meal of the day before we started to slow ourselves down. When that loaf was done baking, it would slide out and I would watch my dad slowly cut each slice. I would put a small pat of butter on my slice and watch it slowly melt then savor every soft bite. Leftovers meant THE best PbnJ's the next day at school. Bread was the foundation of a sacred experience for my family.
This was the same for the Israelites of the Old Testament.
The word "bread" was used to describe any type of food. Bread was the most organic, most basic, most essential, most common food. Those of that time would've recognized the metaphor of bread, as it was used to describe life, sustenance and nourishment. It was an element of hospitality, of worship, of priestly consecration, of fellowship. It's not irony that at the last supper, the body of the soon-to-be-crucified lamb of God was represented by bread.
Bread meant provision. Bread meant life. Bread meant { more than } enough. It's no wonder why God showed himself as the Jehovah Jireh, abundant provider by providing this basic sustenance to His children as they wandered disobediently in the desert for many years.
Bread connects me to enough because of the way that it makes me think of the flesh that was torn for me. It makes me think of the way that even just waking up with air in my lungs is a gift. Basically, bread makes me thankful for the most simple, yet profound things that are lavishly provided.
Tomorrow, let's learn more about daily bread and enough, shall we?
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