Broken Alabaster Boxes

He wants me to live in joy. The fact that where I am may be hard does not limit God from offering the choice of joy in that hard place. "Glorify Me, and walk in joy." I can see a mother and wife turning her little bits of service into beauty and glory, but me? In my black, dusted in chicken breading, headset firmly planted, smelling of grease, peering out of tired eyes. Me bring glory? There are times I struggle to see the practical giving of glory in this.  But truly, He wants me to do this too for His glory. To whirl smooth shakes, sometimes in frantic haste. To scoop endless fries. To pour steaming coffee, and graciously clean up the mess made by fumbling, aged hands. To make one more burger, and then another, and then..... To struggle through my last till of the night and drop a wad of cash in the night deposit at 10:30. To smile at the person reeking in their stench. To love that one in rebellion under me. To ask the rejected coworker about her inter...

Old and young we stand. Hands reaching out to clasp our brother's. The work-worn grasping the child's, Circling the high-ceiling sanctuary of our little church, We join as brotherhood. And we sing, "Bind Us Together." Something my grandpa started, That is now a precious tradition. I remember the time when, hands joined, we reached 'round the whole auditorium, And now our little group only completes half. But it is a godly group, Filled with those seeking His will. I remember singing, hands joined, looking across the circle at my best friend's dad. Who, not long after, died young from heart failure, Leaving a young widow with 3 daughters and a son on the way. I remember singing after sweet communions, and after my baptism. And I remember the time when I could hardly sing for the tears. It is not mere form, Or a required rite. It is a demonstration of love, And care,...

I met her at the florist when I stopped in to pick up a bouquet. An elderly lady, dressed neatly, higher class, but with an ugly attitude. "I had a note that someone tried to deliver flowers a few weeks ago when I was out." The young florist politely asked, "And what was the name?" The name was given, then, "Awe yes, here it is." "Who sent them?" the crotchety lady asked. Another name given, then, "That's my sister." The next outburst surprised me. "I told her to stop sending me flowers! If I want flowers, I'll buy my own. That way I'll get what I want." While the customer stood waiting for the florist to finish some things, she turned and looked at me, just watching me in an unnerving way. But I found the situation so pathetically amusing, that I could not keep the merriment out of my eyes as I looked back at her.  Her sister had paid $60 to thoughtfully send her flowers, an...

"Wait, I have a question...oh, I forgot." "There's snow in my boots."  "I'm not allowed to drink pop." Her friend, in agreement: "No, she's not." "I have a question. Science says dinosaurs and man lived thousands of years apart, but the Bible says God created everything in six days." The reply: "Did you know they found dinosaur prints and human prints alongside each other, made at the same time?" "Oh," in pure faith. "I'm going to eat my cupcake before I get home." "Can you pass the glue?" It was a chaotic evening, maybe because of the beautifully warm weather, coming at last. Or maybe just because they're kids. Once again, the calmest part of the entire evening was the staff choir's song. Our selection for the night, "Purer in Heart Oh God..." The room becomes quiet as these children follow along in their hymnals, hea...

She toiled away, Shaping her craft. Her speeding hands creating, Gifts of time and love. Countless hours given to make, The beautiful labors for her children and grandchildren. Now there are days when the hands ache, Spent and given in this way of love. But remaining are the crafted gifts, The love given, And the thought evidenced for her descendants. But stronger and better,  The legacy of her faithfulness. Walking as the wife of a missionary and pastor. Through days of poverty, And days of hardship. And later, through days of cancer. Her faithfulness is an example. Given not only in physical, but in the spiritual as well. The gift of her hands and heart.

Some of this is my thoughts, others came from Rachel Jancovic. I'm still thinking on this, because I don't feel I have the answers.  Any thoughts? Perhaps you have insights into personality tests.  Here's where we may differ. Greatly. (If we haven't already.) Personality tests have become very prevalent in our society. Find your true self. Find what drives you. Find who you are compatible with. Find your strengths and weaknesses. A road to your true self. Hmmm. Question. Where have these tests originated? They come out of the whole psychology movement. (which is another topic entirely.) But the psychology movement is based on the ideas of men who were without God and the Bible as their foundation. So what is the issue? If ungodly men want to take ungodly views of "finding their true selves," why is that a problem? Or even surprising? Because the church has picked it up and adapted it. They've taken personality tests and made them ...

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Once every two weeks we spend an evening with a roomful of children. It's loud. It's chaotic. It's challenging. Sometimes it's stressful. Other times its pure fun, their laughing faces grinning up at us, their hearty voices belting out the songs. The evening is full of singing, Bible lessons, crafts and games, and, of course, snack. The place throbs with energy. We have them for a few hours. To short it feels in reaching out and trying to touch these little lives. The temptation is there for the teachers to somehow think that they are truly great in this giving of their time and energy. And it is giving. It is a sacrifice. The day of Kid's Club is full of ride planning, last minute prep on lessons and crafts, and work off early to make it in time. But that short time with the children does not often build the trust and lasting friendships that they crave. I know. Because some of those children lived with us for almost a year. There were four sister, tw...

This is for me, evidencing my failings. So if anyone sees themselves in this, you are not alone. We are a brotherhood. We are called to labor together, At times until the point of exhaustion. And it's at that point I want to lay down my head and weep. Simply because I'm so tired. And in that moment of tiredness I am tempted, To look at my brother or sister, And wonder why I am doing so much, And they seemingly so little. I am tempted to assume I know the weights of their lives, To think I know better what they should be doing. And I am tempted to grow bitter, to grow proud, to grow self-sufficient. Because it seems I am doing everything, And my brother nothing. But that is my sin. For the Father does not call me to oversee my brother. He does not call me to manage everyone's activities in church. He calls me to obey. To serve. To love my brother. At times to the point of exhaustion. Because there are times I truly do not kno...