The Israelites ate manna for all forty years they wandered in the wilderness. For a younger generation of Israelites, that was for all their lives. Think about that: Every day, for forty years, everyone would go out at the break of dawn and sweep up manna. And even though manna is known as “bread from heaven,” it didn’t drop down from the sky in loaves. Angels didn’t deliver it to the entrances of each tent wrapped in a tea towel and warm from God’s heavenly oven. No, every morning, Israel would wake up, head outside, and sweep up the manna– it materialized in the morning dew and as the sun rose, the water would evaporate off and leave behind a small seed the size of coriander or a mustard seed. Because it was so small and fine, most people swept it up rather than gathering it piece by piece; which they had to do early in the morning, because as the sun rose later in the day, that manna would also melt away.

In 2014, back in the days before this website existed, God laid it on my heart to go on a mission trip to Africa. At the onset, I thought the obvious path was to go with a family friend that had an organization in Tanzania. That mission would consist of traveling in the African bush, visiting tribes and ministering to them over the course of about two or three weeks. There were months of planning, between figuring out what vaccines I’d need, supplies, putting my finances in order to fund it, and travel logistics. Finally, it came time to buy the plane tickets and try as I did, confirming a booking proved impossible. I’d have the tickets, pick my seat, enter my payment information, and submit, but for some reason each time I tried, the seat was no longer available. This happened several times with multiple airlines before my mom stepped in and voiced my own concern: Something wasn’t right.