Danielle Ayers Jones is mama to twin boys with a baby girl on the way and wife to an amazing husband. She has loved to write and illustrate for as long has she can remember, so it’s no surprise that spare time is spent writing articles and photographing. Her writing has been published in various publications including Radiant, Relevant,and she’s a regular contributor for the webzine, Ungrind. To find out more about Danielle, visit her blog,  Dancing by the Light or her photography website, Danielle Jones Photography.

A few weeks ago we gathered around my mom’s table to celebrate a birthday with a family feast. We shared laughs and enjoyed our time together over homemade Shrimp Alfredo and crusty garlicky bread. My twin toddler boys were excited to be at “Nia’s” house and played with old rusty toy tractors and chased chickens. We indulged in ice cream cake.

Feasts bring us together. Conversation and food converge to bring about camaraderie. There is a connection—or oneness—that often can only be sensed when we come together for a meal. I find joy in the variety of aromas and flavors I discover at the table. I leave such gatherings utterly satisfied—well-fed with food and companionship.

Once, when I was trying to lose weight, I drank those powdery diet drinks as a meal replacement. I found the taste boring and I longed for food that actually made me want to eat it. I wanted variety. I wanted to chew on something. There was no looking forward to the next meal when I knew it was going to be another boring drink. Although it “did the job” in terms of giving me the appropriate vitamins I needed to be sustained, it was unsatisfying.

I discovered that I was not made to survive on meal replacement drinks. They are okay for a while, but they would not be healthy long term. I was made to be satisfied by food that looks good, smells good, and tastes good – all my senses working together to bring a contented sigh after the last bite has been scraped off the plate. It’s no surprise that the Bible often describes the God’s Word in terms of food.

“Your words were found, and I ate them, and your words became to me a joy and the delight of my heart, for I am called by your name, O Lord, God of hosts” (Jeremiah 15:16, emphasis mine).

Do I actually approach God’s Word as excitedly as I do a lovely spread at a family gathering? Do I stop to savor its taste or inhale its aroma? Do I truly approach the Bible as a spiritual feast? Or do I treat Bible reading like a meal replacement drink, just there for a quick fix to sustain me, but not to delight in?

Today, I want to discover a feast within the pages of my Bible. To enjoy connection and conversation with the God who made me. To be hungry for the one thing that can only truly satisfy.

As most of you know, I have been accepting guest post submissions this summer to lighten my load so that I could finish my manuscript. Thanks to Danielle and so many others, I turned it in last week. (Insert jig-dancing). I am thrilled to have guest posts scheduled through the month of August, as they will allow me to recover from the book writing and prepare for the first round of edits. I hope you enjoy these guests as much as I have.

Emily is a writer and photographer living in Florida with her husband, two kids, and two dogs. (And five chickens!) After quitting her job and selling their home, her family moved to Florida five years ago and bought a fixer-upper. Walks on the beach keep her sane during house projects. To learn more about Emily, visit her at Remodeling This Life.

The house I grew up in had three stories plus a basement. The basement was partially finished with a couch and TV cabinet. It is where my brother and I hung out, watching MTV and playing Nintendo together. The main room of the basement had smaller rooms around the perimeter rooms, closed off by doors that housed tools and work areas for my dad. It was those rooms that scared me. The dark spaces in the peripheral that held the unknown. If I was down there with my brother, it wasn’t as scary. He was a red head. Surely any lurking monsters would eat him first.

The only light to the basement was at the top of the stairs. Because it is what brothers do, sometimes he would go upstairs and leave me down there alone, switching the light off on his way. I’d hear him laughing in the kitchen as I scrambled, terrified, yelling at him as I skipped steps up the stairs to switch the light on as quickly as possible. With the light, everything was alright.

I’m older now and at least pretend well that I no longer believe in monsters lurking behind doors in dark rooms. But sometimes, I find myself in the deep dark basement of despair, feeling like a little girl – insecure and afraid. When I find myself there, I will sometimes forget how easy it is to sprint to the light switch and flick it on. Instead, I will stand frozen in fear and I cling to the lies the darkness tells me.

Then, a gentle and kind reminder in the form of light through the crack at the threshold of the door reminds me there is light on the other side if I only I reach for it. The sliver of light shows me the way. Up the steps, back to The Light where everything is alright.

What a vivid, gentle reminder that we get to choose what we believe. We can stay frozen in fear at the foot of the stairs, or dash right up towards Truth. I had the priveledge of hanging out with Emily in real life at BlissDom last year. She is a gem wrapped up in funny and tied with a beautiful bow. Visit her about page to learn more about her journey.