Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.”
John 21:12
But how long will this meal take?
Getting away to spend time with Jesus often takes more effort than it feels like it should. It’s a simple invitation. But on the days when our calendars fill up, the kids demand more than we have to give, family drama escalates, or apathy welcomes itself into our hearts, the response to Jesus’ invitation to “come and have breakfast” is anything but simple.
There was a time when I thought that a “perfect” quiet time was at least thirty minutes long and involved reading the Bible, journaling prayers, and memorizing verses, ideally while soft worship music played in the background to keep my mind on the lyrics if I couldn’t focus on the pages in front of me. If I couldn’t do these things every day, how else would I know that the Father is for me? And when you know the question, “How has your time with the Lord been?” is coming, you know what’s required to keep the answer positive. Of those disciplines involved in my “perfect” quiet time, memorization in particular is a slippery slope if we’re after “perfect.” While we could, in theory, lie about how much time we spend in the Word or prayer and our friends would be none the wiser, memorization provides social proof that we really did it.
Where did these ideas of the “perfect” quiet time come from? For some, it may have been explicitly taught one way or another. For others, an internal drive to “do it the right way” may have set up these unnecessary expectations. For me, I remained convinced for years that though I didn’t do anything to earn God’s love, it wouldn’t hurt to put in the effort and make sure I keep it. I’ve always been an achiever and untangling this from a relationship with the Father has been a very slow process. I convinced myself for too long that if I could achieve a great track record at “perfect” quiet times, there really would be no reason for God to not love me. Instead of soothing any soul-level anxieties about if I’m loved, though, this striving for “perfect” only created more anxiety.
This mindset of a “perfect” quiet time robs us of real intimacy with God and replaces discipleship with a to-do list. We add more action items for ourselves to check off in order to maintain a sense of good standing with the Father. Jesus is unconcerned with checklists of disciplines. He tells us the central focus is to “love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37).
What, then, is enough? How do we know if we’ve spent enough time in God’s Word?
Is reading one chapter of Scripture enough? What about the super short ones? Should we read two, then? Should we time how long we pray or pray however long we feel like or need to? But what about when we don’t feel like praying at all?
Our search for guidelines to follow isn’t inherently bad. Discipleship involves a degree of discipline, which involves doing things you don’t always want to do for the sake of a goal. Our goal? Living out Jesus’s call in Matthew 22:37. Love requires action and living out truth requires knowing what truth is to begin with. We know the spiritual disciplines are good, but many of us hesitate to make a plan or start anything structured. Maybe we’re cautious about becoming too rigid. But if our desire is lifelong discipleship through the mountains and valleys, we need a plan for the days when we don’t feel like doing anything.
How much, then, is enough time? How long will breakfast with Jesus take?
The metaphor of bread gives us a clue to the nuanced answer: “Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger . . .’” (John 6:35). Jesus is referring to himself as the “bread of life,” but let’s use this metaphor to think about our relationship to the Bible, where Jesus’ words are recorded. Bread represented sustenance to the ancient reader in ways we don’t understand in our modern context. But the metaphor works just as well thinking about food in general.
Let’s equate a quiet time with consuming the bread of life. Just like with physical food, sometimes we feast. We can’t get enough of being in the Word, we gladly journal out prayers or spend extended time on our knees in a quiet place, memorizing Scripture happens through reading the Word over and over again, and songs of praise effortlessly fill our minds and mouths. Scripture flows during conversations about what we’re learning or as a way to remind a friend of needed truth because we’ve sought the Spirit to live out Joshua 1:8 and not let the Book of the Law depart from our mouths. Just like when Jesus feeds the five thousand, we are filled and find plenty left over to share with others (Matthew 14:13-21).
Sometimes, we—unfortunately—fast from the bread of life. Whether through willful choice, a fade into busyness, or the onset of indifference, we’ll all go through times of fasting from it. For some of us, this may be for a day or two. For others—myself included—it could be for months or even years. Like David in Psalm 13, we resonate with a sense that we’re all alone now. “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” (Psalm 13:1). God seems distant and we don’t even hear the invitation to “come and have breakfast.”
While these are hard seasons to walk through, God sustains us, just as he sustained Jesus in the desert for forty days.
When it comes to food, we don’t feast every day. We also don’t (and can’t) fast forever. Bites and snacks and meals of differing sizes mark our regular lives. What does that look like when it comes to the bread of life?
Maybe you “take a bite” of the bread of life for the day by reading a one-page devotional about a single verse. Maybe you think about it throughout the day. Maybe you don’t.
Maybe you pray for five minutes right when you wake up.
Maybe you pray and sing along to worship songs on your way to work or class.
Maybe you update a friend through text on how you’re doing and ask for prayer.
Feasting every day would be a glorious existence, but just as we don’t feast on physical food every day, we likely won’t feast on the bread of life every day. And that’s okay.
The invitation to “come and have breakfast” remains the same because Jesus wants us to live out the greatest commandment instead of checking off a list of to-do’s.
We may be tempted to make memorization more about getting nods of approval from others, but the Word is clear that memorization is about one thing: our relationship with God. Psalm 119:11 says, “I have stored up your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you.” When Jesus was led into the wilderness after his baptism, he was prepared to face the temptations thrown his way because the Word was written on his heart. We see this in the way he recites Scripture back to the devil as he is tempted (Matthew 4:4, 7, 10). Memorization serves us well on days we sit in the metaphorical green pastures of Psalm 23, but it serves us best when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death—like when dinner flops, our friends cancel plans, work demands hours of our personal life, or we’re back knee-deep in our old vices. When the deceiving voice of the enemy reminds us how half-heartedly we fulfill the great commandment, memorization of God’s truth is the “sword of the Spirit” (Ephesians 6:17) to fight back just as Jesus did in the desert.
Years ago, I started using a memorization app. After spending five minutes memorizing through different activities, including typing it out, you get a check and it shows how many days and weeks you’ve memorized in a row. Originally, I thought five minutes was a pretty low bar to hit. With time, my thought shifted to not see it as a low bar, but as a gracious invitation to consistently be in God’s Word. When the COVID-19 pandemic emptied the zeal I once possessed to be in God’s Word and to “come and have breakfast” with Jesus, the memorization app was the thread of grace that God used to sustain me. Through dark days of doubt, apathy, and isolation, five minutes of memorization remained, and the Spirit used those few minutes to bury his Word in my heart.
Does the Father scoff at such little “accomplished” when we spend time with him? Absolutely not. When our own kids explore the world of the backyard, come back for a couple of minutes of cuddling, and then set out again, we aren’t dismayed that they don’t sit with us for longer. We are reminded that we are intimately connected and that any time spent in each other’s presence is good. A few minutes may be all that’s needed today to encourage the young heart before setting back out, knowing they are loved and have a safe place to land.
When Jesus took on our sin and gave us his righteousness (2 Corinthians 5:21), we assumed his position with the Father. The Father opened the heavens to speak a blessing over Jesus at his baptism, but it wasn’t a one-and-done proclamation.
God the Father speaks the same over you and me: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17).
There is no more need for the “perfect” quiet time. There never was. God demonstrated his love for us through Christ before we could read or memorize or do any other spiritual disciple. With no biblical pressure to achieve or do it “the right way,” we are free to delight in him as he delights in us, regardless of our current track record.
Whether you’re in a season of feasting, fasting, or snacking on the bread of life, Jesus’ invitation to come and have breakfast remains the same.
Try using a memorization app or practicing memorization another way to incorporate five minutes of memorizing Scripture into your day for the next seven days. Choose one verse or passage and build from there, or stick with that one passage if it’s where the Lord is calling you to rest with and trust in him. If you spend extended time in the Word, praying, memorizing, etc., thank God for a day of feasting. If you spend just a few minutes doing one of those today, thank God for his constant presence. And if you don’t respond to the invitation to “come and have breakfast” today, remember that through Christ’s life, death, and resurrection, the Father’s face smiles at you and declares you good. Consider how you can set a rhythm to feast more regularly, alone with your Father.
In Christ, you are his beloved child. He is well pleased with you.
Photo credit: Michael Marcagi
Eli lives in southwest Ohio with his wife, Stephanie, and their three kids. He's a member and singer on the music team at The Oaks Community Church. A teacher-turned-marketer by day, Eli loves board games,Survivor,reading and listening to audiobooks, and the giggly chaos of a house with three young kids.
1 comment
Thank you so much for this reminder.