Truth is, I think, if God just gave us our daily bread, many of
Truth is, I think, if God just gave us our daily bread, many of us would be angry. 'That's all you're going to give me? You're just going to give me enough to sustain me for today? What about tomorrow or next year or 10, 20, 30 years from now? I want to know that I'm set up.' And yet Jesus says just pray for your daily provisions.
Hear the words of Francis Chan, a teacher of the soul who speaks with the fire of conviction: “The truth is, I think, if God just gave us our daily bread, many of us would be angry. ‘That’s all you’re going to give me? You’re just going to give me enough to sustain me for today? What about tomorrow or next year or 10, 20, 30 years from now? I want to know that I’m set up.’ And yet Jesus says just pray for your daily provisions.” This is not merely a reflection on bread, but a cry against the restless heart of man, which ever demands certainty, security, and abundance. The truth he reveals is ancient: that the human spirit struggles to be content with enough for today.
The origin of these words is the prayer that Christ himself taught: “Give us this day our daily bread.” Not tomorrow’s, not next year’s, but today’s portion. This command is as old as manna in the wilderness, when the people of Israel were told to gather only enough for one day, except on the eve of the Sabbath. Those who hoarded found the manna rotted by morning. In this way the Most High trained them to trust Him daily, to walk by faith, not by sight. Chan echoes this eternal lesson: that dependence upon God each day is the very essence of faith.
Yet man, in his pride, seeks more. He would build barns and fill them to bursting, saying to his soul, “You have many goods laid up for years; rest, eat, drink, and be merry.” But the voice of heaven answered that rich fool: “This night your soul is required of you.” The truth is that man’s craving for tomorrow blinds him to the gift of today. He despises sufficiency because he longs for certainty, forgetting that life itself is uncertain, and only God is eternal.
Look to history, and you will see this lesson written again and again. During the Great Depression, many who once trusted in their wealth and securities saw them vanish in a single season. Banks collapsed, markets crumbled, and men who thought themselves set for decades were left with nothing. Yet those who learned to live day by day, sharing what little they had, sustained one another and found a deeper strength. Thus the truth is shown: it is not abundance that sustains, but trust in provision one day at a time.
The challenge of Chan’s words is sharp: could you be content with daily bread? Or would you rage against heaven because you were not guaranteed a thousand tomorrows? To embrace this command is to live in radical trust, to place your future not in vaults and savings, but in the hands of the Almighty who has never failed to clothe the lilies or feed the sparrows. Daily bread may seem small, but it is the portion that aligns the heart with faith.
The lesson, O children of tomorrow, is this: rejoice in sufficiency, and trust in providence. Do not despise the enough that comes for today, for in it is hidden the treasure of peace. The soul that can rest in today’s bread will never be enslaved by tomorrow’s anxieties. To live thus is to live freely, without the chains of fear about the future, for your trust rests not in your storehouses but in the Eternal Provider.
Therefore, let your daily practice be this: when you pray, ask not for riches, but for daily provision. When you work, labor not for endless security, but for the joy of faithfulness in this day. When you are tempted to hoard, remember the manna that spoiled; when you are tempted to fear, recall the sparrows who neither sow nor reap, yet are fed. In this way, you shall find that truth which Chan proclaims—that life is not about being set for decades, but about trusting, one day at a time, the hand that never fails.
Thus, remember: to live for tomorrow is to live in fear, but to live for today’s bread is to live in freedom. The Eternal has promised daily sustenance; take it, give thanks, and rest. For this is the path of peace, the way of faith, and the secret of true contentment.
MNMai Ngoc
Chan’s words remind me of how much we tend to focus on long-term security, even at the cost of living fully in the present. The concept of asking only for today’s provisions brings us back to a simpler, more trusting mindset. But it raises a question: do we lose something important by trying to control everything about our future? Maybe the key is learning to trust and be content with what we have today.
MMy
I find it really interesting how Chan points out that many of us would feel dissatisfied with only receiving what we need for today. It makes me wonder, why do we feel like we need to know what’s coming in the future? Is it a lack of trust, or is it just the way our society conditions us to think about stability and success? Could practicing faith in daily provisions lead to more peace of mind?
LLLe Le
This quote from Chan challenges the way we often think about our needs and security. We tend to want guarantees for the future, but the idea of relying on God for just daily provision seems more humble and grounded. It’s a reminder that true faith is about trusting in the present moment, even when the future is uncertain. But how do we balance this with the natural need to plan ahead and take responsibility?
RRi
Francis Chan’s quote really makes me reflect on how much we worry about the future. It’s so easy to get caught up in the fear of uncertainty and wanting security for years to come. But this idea of just focusing on daily provisions seems so peaceful in comparison. Why is it so hard for us to trust that today’s needs are enough? Is this part of our human nature to always want more control?