Jesus feeds our imperishable souls

I browsed the supermarket, excited that pastels painted the coming celebration of Easter. Ready-made baskets oozed marshmallow chicks, faux grass, and fluffy bunnies, but other aisles were sparse. My squeaky cart and chatty children rolled by only four sorry boxes of spaghetti noodles where shelves once offered plentiful options like organic, angel hair, or gluten free. I haven’t seen crackers in weeks. Where’s the food?

No doubt, for years we’ve been experiencing spotty shortages at the grocery stores. Whether it’s supply chain disruptions or a result of tensions overseas, I’m not an authority to say. But as many have suggested padding the pantry with extra non-perishables for years now, I’ve been waiting for the rush on Jesus. When will all of us imperishable souls stockpile Him? 

Imperishable. Some food is considered “non-perishable,” meaning it won’t spoil anytime soon. Items like those spaghetti noodles or rice or dried beans have an extended shelf life, and last even longer in my pantry as the little ones (and Wade) buck at one of my favorite suppers: beans and cornbread. As a beekeeper, I appreciate how our crop is said to never spoil. When archeologists found 3,000-year-old honey while excavating Egyptians tombs, they claimed it was still edible, though I think I’ll just stick with last year’s harvest. So, what is imperishable? What endures forever? 

In the Book of Wisdom we’re reminded, “For God formed us to be imperishable; the image of His own nature He made us,” (2:23).

The Stations of the Cross is a Lenten devotion that’s dear to my heart. It’s a prayerful meditation on the accounts of Good Friday from Pilate’s condemnation of Christ through His laying in the tomb. We pause to consider Jesus, bloody and battered, falling three times under the weight of the heavy cross. My throat tightens and tears press as I think of what it must have been like for Mary to watch helplessly, for Simon to share the burden of the cross up Calvary, for Veronica wiping Jesus’ precious face.  Oh, to know that my sins—my hunger to vainly and pridefully be preferred, heard, praised, and honored—held Him there that day… because we’re imperishable. Our souls endure forever.

In today’s throwaway culture, we toss out plastic water bottles like we commit genocide on the most innocent, vulnerable population (in 2019, the CDC reported approximately 1,725 babies died every day to abortion in the United States). The United Nations claims that 25,000 people die every day due to hunger. Much like the mob who hurled insults and charges, we’re quick to condemn and “cancel” folks who make mistakes or disagree, to bar the social lepers far beyond the stone walls of sterile hearts.  

But there’s hope for the hungry. And friend, as we are both soul and body, I know well that we all hunger. We hunger for food. For drink. For beauty, truth, justice, acceptance, peace, and love. 

Holy Week is upon us. You’re invited to the feast.  Go to the Church. Listen to Jesus, who says, “My flesh is real food, and my blood is real drink,” (John 6:55). His body was offered for you over 2000 years ago so that your imperishable soul may be satisfied with Him forever. Celebrate His glorious resurrection with your family and friends around a table of bountiful faith, hope, and charity.

And praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise Him all creatures—fluffy bunnies, fuzzy lambs, good thieves, and sinners alike—here below.


*Feature Photo by Eduardo Soares on Unsplash

Author: Neena

Neena is a Kentucky wife, mother, and beekeeper. Her first novel, THE BIRD AND THE BEES, is a Christian contemporary romance available now. Visit her at wordslikehoney.com.

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