DAILY BREAD AGAINST DELUSION

 > DAILY BREAD AGAINST DELUSION

Give me not the weight

that buries the voice of heaven—

nor the hunger

that forgets how to hope—

but the bread that arrives

with the morning mercy.

For there is a fullness

that empties the soul,

a table so crowded

it leaves no room for God.

Gold can speak softly,

silver can sing lullabies—

until the heart,

rocked into sleep,

forgets the Name

it once cried out in the night.

“Who is the Lord?”—

not shouted,

but whispered

by a life that no longer needs to ask.

O the danger of enough

when enough becomes a wall,

when provision becomes possession,

and possession becomes distance.

But blessed is the hand

that still opens—

though little rests within it.

Blessed is the soul

that still waits—

though strength has thinned.

For in the breaking of self,

there is a widening—

and in the emptying,

a filling not our own.

When I am weak,

the silence breaks open—

and Another speaks

through the cracks of my lack.

Daily bread—

not a limit,

but a lifeline.

A rhythm of need

that keeps me near,

a sacred insufficiency

that remembers You.

Let me gather slowly—

grain by grain,

step by step—

not chasing the wind

of sudden wealth,

but rooted in quiet faith.

For what comes quickly

often leaves swiftly,

but what is formed in patience

learns how to remain.

So give me this day—

not tomorrow’s illusion,

not yesterday’s store—

but this moment’s mercy.

Enough to remember.

Enough to trust.

Enough to love.

And if I must choose

between abundance without You

and little with Your presence—

then let me hunger

where You are near,

and be filled

by the Bread

that does not deceive. 

Steven G. Lee 

April 27, 2026