The Hunger That Recognizes God
The holiday season has a way of filling us up. Our calendars overflow with gatherings, our homes burst with decorations, our tables groan under the weight of festive meals. We coordinate schedules, send invitations, prepare dishes, and orchestrate celebrations. It's beautiful, meaningful, and often exhausting. But in all this fullness, we face a profound spiritual question: How do we hunger for the ultimate when we're already full of the good?
When Full People Miss What Hungry People See
The birth of Christ reveals something striking about spiritual receptivity. When the Savior entered the world, not everyone responded the same way. Some were too full—full of prestige, full of certainty about how God should work, full of their own understanding. Others came hungry, and it was the hungry who truly recognized what God was doing.
Consider Zechariah, a high priest serving in the Holy of Holies when the angel Gabriel appeared with impossible news: his elderly, barren wife Elizabeth would bear a son. Here was a man who knew Scripture, understood rituals, and lived blamelessly according to God's ordinances. Yet when confronted with God's miraculous plan, his response was telling: "How can I know this?"
This wasn't the question of someone longing for more of God. It was the question of someone who needed to be in control, someone whose knowledge had perhaps made him too certain about the limits of what God could do. Zechariah wasn't punished for his doubt, but he was silenced—emptied of his input so he could learn to listen and trust.
Sometimes God quiets us not to shame us, but to create space for longing. Before we can speak rightly, we must learn to listen deeply.
The Faithfulness Found in Emptiness
Elizabeth's story offers a different picture. She had lived with shame, bearing the label "barren woman" in a culture that viewed childlessness as divine disfavor. Her hunger wasn't theoretical—it was embodied in years of patient waiting, of enduring whispered assumptions and quiet grief.
Yet when young Mary arrived, barely weeks into her own miraculous pregnancy, Elizabeth immediately recognized the holy. In a loud voice she proclaimed, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you bear! Why am I so favored that you come to see me?"
Her hunger had sharpened her spiritual sight. Those who have waited long often recognize God first—not because they're better, but because they're empty enough and surrendered enough to receive what the Holy Spirit is doing around them. Hunger for God makes us appreciative and opens our eyes to His movement in ways that fullness cannot.
The Response of Those Who Cannot Wait
The shepherds provide perhaps the most dramatic example of hungry response. They were ordinary workers who knew the promises and had heard the stories of a coming Messiah.
But when angels appeared announcing the Savior's birth, they didn't deliberate or strategize. Scripture tells us simply: "When the angels had left them, the shepherds said to one another, 'Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened.'"
No discussion. No pause. No "not now" or careful planning about who would watch the sheep. They hurried—one of the rare moments in Scripture where people move with such urgency. They left their fields, risked their responsibilities, and once they saw the newborn Savior, they couldn't contain themselves. They told everyone they could find.
When you're hungry and God reveals something to you, you cannot wait to share it. The joy of hunger being fed is like no other. The shepherds didn't analyze the miracle or question the details. They responded immediately, and their response was worship through witness.
Curiosity That Travels 400 Miles
The Magi present yet another dimension of holy hunger. These were wealthy, educated, respected men who had every worldly advantage. Despite their pedigree, they continued searching for something more. They followed a star for 400 miles on camelback, driven by curiosity and wonder.
When they arrived, these learned men had no expectation of what the King might do for them. They came to give. They knelt before mystery. True hunger doesn't demand certainty or insist on answers delivered according to our timeline. It lives alongside trust, willing to journey long distances and bow low before the God who exceeds our understanding.
The Question That Turns Toward Us
Here's where the ancient story intersects with our modern lives. Are we still curious? Do we come to worship full of wonder, or have we become too full of other things—even good things—to hunger for God?
We worship a God who created the universe with infinite power, yet who refuses to control us out of respect for our souls. God created a world where hunger for Him, where love for Him, must be chosen. We are free to fill ourselves with good things, meaningful things, beautiful things. But not all good things are God.
God gives us these gifts to savor and enjoy, but He longs for us to hunger for Him first, to fill ourselves with Him in the context of all these other blessings. When we focus only on the gifts and not the Giver, even the best things leave us empty or worse—they become idols.
An Invitation, Not a Mandate
God's love is so profound that He refuses to make loving Him mandatory. Instead, He invites us to desire it. He longs for us to find joy in His love. Even more remarkably, God longs for us to long for Him.
The people who recognized Jesus weren't the most powerful, informed, or holy. They were the silenced learning to listen, the patient shaped by waiting, those willing to move and open to mystery. They were simply hungry enough to notice what God was doing.
The question isn't whether God is present. The question is: Are we hungry enough to notice? Hungry enough to be curious again? Hungry enough to loosen our grip on what we think we can control? Hungry enough to make room for wonder? Hungry enough to choose the Creator over His gifts?
In a season—and a life—full of good things, may we cultivate the holy hunger that recognizes God when He draws near. May we be people who hurry toward Him, who travel long distances to worship, who exclaim with joy when we see His work, and who cannot help but share what we've found.
The table is set. The invitation is extended. Come hungry.
When Full People Miss What Hungry People See
The birth of Christ reveals something striking about spiritual receptivity. When the Savior entered the world, not everyone responded the same way. Some were too full—full of prestige, full of certainty about how God should work, full of their own understanding. Others came hungry, and it was the hungry who truly recognized what God was doing.
Consider Zechariah, a high priest serving in the Holy of Holies when the angel Gabriel appeared with impossible news: his elderly, barren wife Elizabeth would bear a son. Here was a man who knew Scripture, understood rituals, and lived blamelessly according to God's ordinances. Yet when confronted with God's miraculous plan, his response was telling: "How can I know this?"
This wasn't the question of someone longing for more of God. It was the question of someone who needed to be in control, someone whose knowledge had perhaps made him too certain about the limits of what God could do. Zechariah wasn't punished for his doubt, but he was silenced—emptied of his input so he could learn to listen and trust.
Sometimes God quiets us not to shame us, but to create space for longing. Before we can speak rightly, we must learn to listen deeply.
The Faithfulness Found in Emptiness
Elizabeth's story offers a different picture. She had lived with shame, bearing the label "barren woman" in a culture that viewed childlessness as divine disfavor. Her hunger wasn't theoretical—it was embodied in years of patient waiting, of enduring whispered assumptions and quiet grief.
Yet when young Mary arrived, barely weeks into her own miraculous pregnancy, Elizabeth immediately recognized the holy. In a loud voice she proclaimed, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you bear! Why am I so favored that you come to see me?"
Her hunger had sharpened her spiritual sight. Those who have waited long often recognize God first—not because they're better, but because they're empty enough and surrendered enough to receive what the Holy Spirit is doing around them. Hunger for God makes us appreciative and opens our eyes to His movement in ways that fullness cannot.
The Response of Those Who Cannot Wait
The shepherds provide perhaps the most dramatic example of hungry response. They were ordinary workers who knew the promises and had heard the stories of a coming Messiah.
But when angels appeared announcing the Savior's birth, they didn't deliberate or strategize. Scripture tells us simply: "When the angels had left them, the shepherds said to one another, 'Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened.'"
No discussion. No pause. No "not now" or careful planning about who would watch the sheep. They hurried—one of the rare moments in Scripture where people move with such urgency. They left their fields, risked their responsibilities, and once they saw the newborn Savior, they couldn't contain themselves. They told everyone they could find.
When you're hungry and God reveals something to you, you cannot wait to share it. The joy of hunger being fed is like no other. The shepherds didn't analyze the miracle or question the details. They responded immediately, and their response was worship through witness.
Curiosity That Travels 400 Miles
The Magi present yet another dimension of holy hunger. These were wealthy, educated, respected men who had every worldly advantage. Despite their pedigree, they continued searching for something more. They followed a star for 400 miles on camelback, driven by curiosity and wonder.
When they arrived, these learned men had no expectation of what the King might do for them. They came to give. They knelt before mystery. True hunger doesn't demand certainty or insist on answers delivered according to our timeline. It lives alongside trust, willing to journey long distances and bow low before the God who exceeds our understanding.
The Question That Turns Toward Us
Here's where the ancient story intersects with our modern lives. Are we still curious? Do we come to worship full of wonder, or have we become too full of other things—even good things—to hunger for God?
We worship a God who created the universe with infinite power, yet who refuses to control us out of respect for our souls. God created a world where hunger for Him, where love for Him, must be chosen. We are free to fill ourselves with good things, meaningful things, beautiful things. But not all good things are God.
God gives us these gifts to savor and enjoy, but He longs for us to hunger for Him first, to fill ourselves with Him in the context of all these other blessings. When we focus only on the gifts and not the Giver, even the best things leave us empty or worse—they become idols.
An Invitation, Not a Mandate
God's love is so profound that He refuses to make loving Him mandatory. Instead, He invites us to desire it. He longs for us to find joy in His love. Even more remarkably, God longs for us to long for Him.
The people who recognized Jesus weren't the most powerful, informed, or holy. They were the silenced learning to listen, the patient shaped by waiting, those willing to move and open to mystery. They were simply hungry enough to notice what God was doing.
The question isn't whether God is present. The question is: Are we hungry enough to notice? Hungry enough to be curious again? Hungry enough to loosen our grip on what we think we can control? Hungry enough to make room for wonder? Hungry enough to choose the Creator over His gifts?
In a season—and a life—full of good things, may we cultivate the holy hunger that recognizes God when He draws near. May we be people who hurry toward Him, who travel long distances to worship, who exclaim with joy when we see His work, and who cannot help but share what we've found.
The table is set. The invitation is extended. Come hungry.