Written by Sylvia Schroeder, blogger of When the House is Quiet
In that Bermuda triangle space, way back in the bottom corner of my kitchen cabinet, I store empty canning jars. I don’t often need them, but when I do, it means I need to get on the floor to extend as far as possible into the dark underbelly of my cabinets. Most women know that canning jars have an endless variety of uses and should not be relegated into someplace so very difficult to reach.
My daughter uses them for iced tea on a hot day. Overflowing with flowers, they decorate tables. Candles flicker and magnify inside them. And some, to whom I find myself in awe, actually use them for canning food.
The original manna jar of the Israelites probably didn’t look much like those glass jars which hug the bottom back of my cabinets. But the jars had some of the very same grandparenting purposes we treasure.
“And Moses said to Aaron, ‘Take a jar, and put an omer of manna in it, and place it before the Lord to be kept throughout your generations.’” (Exodus 16:33 ESV)
“What is it?” the people questioned. “What is it?” the children asked.
The manna jar was a powerful object lesson for the Israelite children and their children, and the ones still to come.
Children relate to concrete objects. Jesus used them often to illustrate His messages. Our grandchildren hear our personal stories with their ears. They see with their eyes if we illustrate with an object. When we put something into their hands, they feel it against their skin. They participate in its story.
Recently, I read the account again in Exodus 16 of the Israelites in the wilderness. They grumbled and complained like little children. Their exaggerations and blame looked at past Egyptian bondage as if it had been paradise. They began to look at their freedom and all its miraculous God-accomplishments as if it were slavery.
“and the people of Israel said to them, ‘Would that we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the meat pots and ate bread to the full, for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.’” (Exodus 16:3 ESV)
And so, God created manna. Therein began the forty-year “how do you like your manna” recipe book. The miracle of bread from heaven became expected, mundane, and tiresome. They turned a provision from God into misery and blame toward Moses. The cycle of complaints could have at the least distorted the truth of God’s amazing salvation from the Egyptians. And at most, it could have completely obliterated the memory of God’s glorious acts.
But they had a jar.
God knew the power of a tangible reminder.
For us, it might be a note, a gift, or a box. God has brought us through many things in our long lives. Much of it is worth remembering and mining for the golden nugget. Those need to be passed on to another generation to stop the drift from forgetfulness and be reminded of truth.
What’s in your manna jar? What tangible reminders do you have that own a piece of your God story?
My husband has an old Model A in our garage. It belonged to his mother when she went to high school. Not only does it tangibly delight our grandchildren with its horn and rumble seat air-conditioning, but it also gives opportunity for him to relay stories about their great-grandma’s salvation and faith. It opens doors to more stories as she led my husband to Christ.
We both have kept sweet letters from our children, who are now the parents of our grandchildren. Those pages tell a story of growth, appreciation, and love. Can you imagine the delight of unfolding them and reading what their mom or dad wrote so many years ago?
I own a vase given by our first landlord when we were fresh young missionaries on foreign soil. It’s a tangible way to talk about God’s call on our lives for overseas ministry. There is the china from my mom, the piano from my dad, and the old Bible from Great Grandpa.
You have them too, all around your house. They are memories, tangible and important proofs that God led through the waters, guided in the storms, and provided in the desert. And sometimes they are such a part of life we forget the power of the manna jar of experiences that point to our Heavenly Father.
These things, mere objects, relay truths not just for grandchildren, but also for us. God desired for His people to remember His acts. What He had done for them helped them to know the character of the God who did them.
But God recognized how quickly we forget what we think we cannot.
We often sing a worship song in church about God’s faithfulness. To see young people sing with their hearts and voices lifted in acknowledgment of a faithful God in their few years brings stinging tears to my eyes. Grandpa and Grandma, we have seen Him faithful for many years.
How’s your manna jar?
I hope as you look around you, tangible stories will fill it full. May they give concrete voices to testify of Christ’s hand as He parted waters, lifted you from evil, and sustained in sorrow.
As you brush off memories to hold and treasure from the back recesses of your experiences, may they be clear and transparent. May your manna jars be placed into sweet little hands so they too can gaze on the wonder of Jesus.
