How's your abundance taste-ability?

Photo credit: @amandahortiz via Unsplash

I push back a green leaf to pluck a black-fruited jewel. Another---this one the size of a giant's thumb! Five. Ten. Fifteen. Row after row. Yesterday, the berries were small, red, and unripe. Today they have transformed into plump Natchez blackberries, enough to eat by the handful and still have enough for our family and friends to each adorn a bowl of vanilla bean ice cream. I grin and eat another bite of abundance.

I have been living in sharp contrast to the blackberry's astonishing way of existence: perfect ripeness dependent on God's good time. Instead, I feel scared and scarce. I wonder if there's enough money for vacation. I worry that I have a lessening influence on my kids' lives. I toss and turn because I said something dreadfully stupid.

From the inside out, we may feel like our lifesource is slowly eeking away from us through an unfindable leak. Somewhere between years of caring for others, pandemic aftershocks, or our own unresolved pain, we can lose a taste for abundance.

The funny thing is, we are made for it. Taste a blackberry at its pinnacle ripeness and your tastebuds will exclaim, “Oh my goodness! That's good!” Our bodies know. Our eyes light up. The sweetness entices us, and we want more! I know it's hard to believe and I'm writing this to myself as much as you, but God longs for you to flourish. Your creativity. Your ministry. Your life. I'm not saying there are no thorns, Japanese beetles, or disease, but there are blackberries to be had for the tasting.