"Train yourself up in godliness," You say, "for godliness with contentment is great gain, not only to yourself but the people around you. Plus, there's eternal reward involved."

So I say, "Sure" and have at it for oh, two hours. I know the rote rules of godliness: Read the Bible. Pray for a little while. Read a devotional, maybe. Make sure you've tithed or fasted or done something servantful recently.

But in the quiet, I know better.

Jim Elliot scattered reflections in his journal, "The tendency is to go to Egypt as our fathers have done, even as was Isaac's case. There is a river which does not fail; seemingly Egypt is without famine. But God wants me to find my satisfaction in wells in a famished land..."

Satisfaction. Satisfaction in a well? Surely the ancient imagery can translate for modern sensibilities. I say, "There is an unfailing source of food...somewhere. In Egypt, I hear they have self re-filling grocery aisles, while around here, people are scraping the bottom of the food pantry. I've gotta ask, can God fill my hunger?"

Can God fill my hunger? Hunger. I have pictures in my brain of that word. The pains of stomach walls imploding. Starvation; little distended stomachs from photographs of children eating bugs from the ground. Is that what I look like on the inside?

"Train yourself up in godliness," You say, and I think that is somehow related to the hunger.
Besides, what's the point of reading, praying, or even fasting if that soul-hunger is unaddressed? Isn't the assuaging of hunger the whole point? Or maybe...just maybe...hunger is the leash that trains us to godliness.

After reading a gem of a book entitled The Life of God in the Soul of Man, George Whitefield described his state: "O what a ray of divine life did then break in upon my soul! I fell awriting... I laid aside all trifling conversation. I put all trifling books away, and was determined to study to be a saint, and then to be a scholar. From that moment God has been carrying on His blessed work in my soul."

Sounds like godliness to me--though described in a way a mind accustomed to 3 Step Plans might marvel at. The opening of a shaft of light that illuminates hunger like a storm of dust particles caught midair. A godliness that does not only satisfy the hunger, but whets it as well. A godliness that starts with a refreshed soul, and moves on from there, wracking every conversation and written word with truth and heavenly urgency.

There is a river which does not fail, and reading the Bible and praying is only carrying a cup to its banks. We must search You out to be satisfied. We must want You to find You.

"Train yourself up in godliness," You say, and I think I know what You mean.