Elijah had more than his share of life challenges as an eight-yearold. Being the middle son was hard enough, but being the only one in his family with Type 1 diabetes created unique hangry struggles.
He had been able to cheerfully accept his “specialness” when at two-yearsold he was shown how to prick his finger and get a shot—”just like Grandpa.” But a more recent diagnosis of celiac disease made him hungry to be able to eat like everyone else in his family.
When visiting us, the boys took turns hopping in bed with me in the morning for one-on-one Bible time. I was pleased that Elijah expressed some of his frustration to me about the most recent restrictions to his diet. “Sometimes I feel sad, and sometimes I feel mad.”
Of course he wondered why God let him have diabetes and celiac, but not his brothers. Some questions have no satisfactory answers.
It was good to talk about similarities and differences between heart hunger and stomach hunger.
“Hunger’s a good thing when it makes us want something God wants to give us.” I thought of the tree of life in the Garden of Eden.
“I wonder if God gets hungry . . .”
“Hmm. Being hungry is wanting something, isn’t it?”
“He wants us to want Him!” “Too bad Adam and Eve ate from the one tree that wasn’t good for them.”
“But God warned them!” That week we read a story about King Solomon. In spite of God making Solomon wise, he didn’t learn to be satisfied with what God chose to give him. Like Adam and Eve.
I was delighted when Elijah suggested we read Psalm 1 together, impressed with Elijah’s heart already being bent toward knowing and obeying God.
Unfortunately, on Sunday morning Elijah woke hangry, with his blood sugar way too high and we struggled to find food he could eat while we waited for the insulin shot to take effect. As Levi and Luke filled up on pancakes and syrup, Elijah had to settle for eggs. No carbs and no gluten.
Sitting between the boys in church, Elijah stood when we sang and heartedly joined in when he knew the songs. During the sermon he cuddled up close, nudging me and beaming when the pastor mentioned King Solomon. When it was time for communion, I realized Elijah was eager to partake of the elements as they were being passed down our pew row.
Under different circumstances there would have been no problem, but I had to whisper to him that he couldn’t drink grape juice or eat bread when his blood sugar was still too high. And besides, the bread wasn’t gluten-free.
As his countenance crumbled I put my arm around his shoulders and whispered into his ear, “You and I will have communion when we get home.”
It’s a good thing Jesus said, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Elijah couldn’t eat bread to show He remembered “Jesus' body was broken for him,” but he could eat crisp broken Nutthins. And Crystal Light Raspberry Tea isn’t exactly wine—but neither is grape juice.
However, remembering together, Elijah and I were satisfied that Jesus had invited us to share this mini-meal with Him.
I know our casual mealsharing with Jesus might seem disrespectful to some believers, but we ate and drank out of heart hunger—for communion with Jesus. We weren’t hangry for gluten, we were hungry for God.