God’s Unlimited Provision

My three small children and I love visiting a nearby farm animal sanctuary. Not only can we get close to the animals, but we’re typically the only people there. My kids are especially fond of the donkey named Jellybean!

The last time we visited, we were lucky enough to be there for the animals’ dinnertime. As we walked up to the cow enclosure, the staff pulled up in a pickup truck and unloaded eight bales of hay for approximately thirty cows. They threw the hay over a fence, and the bales landed about five feet apart to make a long buffet line of delicious dinner. The cows hurried over to partake, but for some reason they all went for the same five bales, abandoning the three bales farthest away.

As my boys and I watched the cows feasting, we noticed some interesting behavior. Despite there being more than enough hay for all to enjoy, one of the cows would head butt another cow as a warning to leave the hay alone. The cow that just received a head butt would then walk away and begin eating at a new bale, but if another cow approached him, he would head butt that cow! The newest victim would then leave to find a new bale, and the same pattern was repeated over and over—the victim became the abuser. The weirdest part was that the cows were fighting over a limited amount of hay while three bales remained untouched. It was the strangest thing to watch.

I couldn’t help but think about human behavior in relation to that of the cows. How often do we feel threatened when others try to take what we believe is rightfully ours? How often do we get hurt by something someone says or does and then run away, only to hurt the next person in our path? The behaviors are strikingly similar. The takeaway lesson for me, though, was not how we treat other people; the lesson was how we respond to God’s provision.

I think that, all too often, we fear there is a scarcity of God’s resources. We fear he is limited in what he provides, and so we begin acting crazy, jealous, and anxious. We worry he is going to run out of resources and he’ll choose to spend what he has on another person. As a result, we begin head butting others as only scared animals do. Our method of self-protection is to hurt others and claim our territory, regardless of whom we injure in the process.

The irony is that while we are acting like scared, hungry animals who may never get another meal, three untouched hay bales are sitting in the back of the room where our Master has so graciously placed them. He is the Maker and Giver of all things, and yet we worry he will run out of gifts. We begin acting foolish and desperate while he is whispering, “There is enough for you. I am enough for you.”

When I find myself acting jealous and greedy, I try to remember God’s resources are not limited. He has always provided for me, and yet I forget this provision faster than the rest of God’s promises. Right now my family is struggling to get our bank account in the black despite frugal spending and strict budget cuts. It is frustrating and even defeating at times. I am not fearful, though, and I am not head butting anyone because of extreme anxiety. Instead, I have been holding on to the truth that God has always provided for us in the past. I doubt he will run out of resources. I need not fear scarcity.

How different could our lives look if we believe God will always provide? We might cheer others on a little more and not be so jealous of their blessings. We might not be so anxious and fearful in general. We might be able to relax and enjoy the bales of hay in the back of the room while everyone else argues and fights over the “limited” resources in the front. God is not limited. He will not run out of anything. He is good. We need not fear.

Brandy Lidbeck is a licensed marriage and family therapist living in Northern California with her husband and three children. She is passionate about both truth and humor, and if she can get them both in the same conversation, it’s a win/win. She blogs at sipofbrandy.com for fun and thegiftofsecond.com for those impacted by a loved one’s suicide.

Photograph © Bethany Beams, used with permission