Broken Alabaster Boxes

"I have a gift for you."  She placed the dusty strand into my hand.  A relic of hers that she gave to me as a gift at my parting.  A gift purchased from the country and people I am going to. A gift from the people I am leaving.  To remind me to pray.  To care.  To still ask about them.  This leaving to go to another country, It's not a question of God finally calling me into missions.  Rather, it's a question of where He is calling me to serve now. And me going there means there will be a hole here.  Means there won't be that light where I worked. It is not more glamorous to go.  Sometimes it is not God's will to go.  It's about being faithful where He has called you. To the people in your town.  Or the people in another town.  Or even the people in your house. That dusty strand given as a parting gift, Will be a reminder of my people....

 The exchange of vows. The joining of two in one. The beginning of a life lived together. My heart is so glad for my friend. And I want to bless them with a gift. A gift that will be fun, yet useful. Not a sensible crockpot (though, please, someone give them one. They need that too) Not a set of china dishes (Does she even like china? And if she does, what kind?) Not money (extremely boring for a dear friend) or towels (please no), or even an eccentric kitchen appliance (will she even use it?) So what to get? Something fun, yet useful. Something to partake of together. Something used to bless others as well, as I know they will. A sturdy basket. A plaid picnic cloth to spread the fair.  Roasting sticks to outstretch.  Cute tin mugs, two for them, two to share.  Fluffy marshmallows Rich chocolate. Crunchy graham crackers to sandwich. And hot chocolate to warm all the way through. Practical? Not really. Ne...

"Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees." Glances around the circle of disciples. Confused. "Because we have no bread? Because of our physical need, this concern weighing on us for bread, for nourishment, for physical security?" But Jesus. "How do you not see? How do you not know? "The breaking of bread, only five loaves, the feeding of thousands. "This I did. "The providing for of the physical. "I will provide bread. Do not fret over that . " "But the leaven of the Pharisees. Sin. Attitudes. Pride. That beware of. "This is not a warning to worry over the simple physical. To clutch and stress and worry over something so minute. "But rather, I ask you to seek me. To, unlike the Pharisees, come to me with a heart empty of pride and self and stress, and know Me. "Not to clutch at the physical bread. But to reach out and touch the real Bread. "And as you touch, as you parta...

These, my people. How can i leave them for others? Who will care about their souls?  Who will mention their names at prayer meetings?  These, my people who I have struggled and learned to love. And now leave them?  Leave the watching of their souls?  The agonized prayers. The words spoken, trying to show truth? Leave this?  Yet if this is His calling, if I must leave these people who have been my passion, my heart, then the Father Who's hand guides me elsewhere will be faithful to them. Cannot I trust Him with this?  He Who said that no man comes unless the Father draws them. Cannot I trust Him with the drawing?  And leave them in the Fathers hand.

Discerning the will of God is never a frantic, clutching, fearful demand. We should never approach Him demanding, "Show me Your will," as if He is only here to be swayed by man's demands or insecure fears. His desire is never for us to arrive at His will in fear. Fear of man. Fear of circumstances. Fear of our own failings. But always in trust. He wants us to come to Him with open hands. "This, Father. Or this? What would you have me do? What would bring you the most glory?" And if we walk in His ways, if we do the small obediences here, He will never leave us without His will.  He will show us. He will not leave us without knowledge of what we ought to obey, then punish us for not obeying. Deep down, we must believe this.  His will is arrived at in complete trust in His character. In faith that He will guide. In obedience to the calling.

God never calls us beyond humble obedience to something greater. He never calls us beyond patience, humility, dying to self, kindness, righteousness. He never calls us to places where we are the star and never again must die. His way up is always down. The way closer to Christ is always death. Sanctification is always work. And those great obediences? Those great things you long to do for Him? There's the apostle Paul, stoned and shipwrecked. There's John, alone in the aisle of Patmos.  There's Corrie Ten Boom in a concentration camp. There's Jim Elliot floating dead in a river with an Auca spear thrust through him. There's Christ, hanging naked upon a cross. The great obediences? These, our examples. These our patterns. There will always be humble obedience before us. The choosing to die. The giving of self. The breaking of the will. And only then there is life.

I thirst. The anguished cry descended over the crowd, emitted by the tortured Man suspended.  I thirst. The cry of humanity.  To the Samaritan woman He had said, If you drink of me, if you drink of the water I give you, you will never thirst again. Yet in His humanness He thirsted.  He the Creator, yearning for water.  He the perfect, infinite God,  humbling Himself and asking for a drink. Acknowledging His physical thirst.  He Who spoke water into existence, asking for the life-sustaining liquid. He Who does not call us to unthirsty lives, but calls us to acknowledge our needs. Physical and spiritual. To humbly say, I thirst. And drink of the cool water of relief.