Forty years is a long time to be eating manna off the ground. This was their staple, their main meal. Every day they would go out to the desert floor and look for their daily rations of manna. There was enough for everyone. Larger families could gather more. Smaller families could gather less. Everyone had their fill.
They couldn't gather more than one day's worth of food. When they tried to do this and "hide it," it didn't work. The food would spoil and be filled with maggots. On Friday, though, it was different. Enough food was on the desert floor to supply two days worth for each family. The food wouldn't spoil this night. Tomorrow was the Sabbath. No work was to be done. No manna would be found on the desert floor either.
For forty years they followed this pattern, until they entered the promised land:
While the Israelites were camped at Gilgal on the plains of Jericho,
they celebrated Passover on the evening of the fourteenth day of the
first month. The very next day they began to eat unleavened bread and
roasted grain harvested from the land. No manna appeared on the day they
first ate from the crops of the land, and it was never seen again. So
from that time on the Israelites ate from the crops of Canaan. (Joshua 5:10-12 NLT)
It all stopped. The food was no longer found on the desert floor. It was found in trees and plants and crops and livestock. It was all around them. In their rush to move forward with the new blessings from God, I wonder if they even paused to thank Him for the blessings He provided for them every day, every week, every month and every year for forty years. Sometimes we can see God's miracles happening around us for such a long time that we become complacent with His Majesty and Glory. We forget His provision, every moment of our lives.
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