Refilled and Poured Out

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves. 2 Corinthians 4:7

 "Lord, all of You. None of me. Please just fill me up. I really have nothing to give."

This was my heart's desperate, quiet plea right before going on a mission trip. Before the trip even began, I was keenly aware I was leaving on empty. Emotionally, I was managing grief. Physically, I was managing sickness. Mentally, I was drained by the preparations for leaving my family at home to go and minister to others besides them.

My Jesus showed up. Every day in a different way, God just showed up. All week.

Looking back, I just marvel. I was drained in every sense of the word, but also filled with a peace, joy and satisfaction that only comes from being an empty vessel used for God's purposes. Life felt abundantly full, yet I was keenly aware of just how empty I was in all the best ways.

I remember a friend questioning me at that point in my life. She thought I was stretched too thin. She cautioned something had to give eventually. Right? Maybe? Maybe not.

What if our capacity for serving God and being used in His kingdom is simply a matter of how much capacity we allow for being completely emptied by Him for His purposes every day? By how long we are willing to sit still in His presence and be refilled for the pouring out? What if it's that simple?

People say, "I can't do that. I don't have the money for that. I'm not gifted for that. That's not my strength. I could never commit to that. I can't give up that. I don't know how I can make that happen. I don't think I have the time."  And the list goes on. I've said all these things at one point in my life.  

Enter truth. God doesn't fit inside a box of I that I create. I'm limited, but He isn't. I can't sometimes, but He always can. Where I am weak and empty, He is strong and overflowing. However, I rarely experience His abundance because I'm too busy operating within the box of I where I create and I control. Inside this box are the things I know I can do, the things I know I am good at doing, things where I already have the resources, and the things I'm sure of accomplishing in my own ways and strength.

I can live a good, moral, godly life accomplishing those things inside the box of I, but I only experience the promised ABUNDANT life when I'm at the very end of myself with nothing left to offer or give, and yet I still say, "Yes," to God's calling, ways, plan, will, commands. I still walk through those open doors of opportunity He presents even when it's scary and hard, and I have nothing to offer but a vessel willing to be filled by Him.

Today, I'm sitting in a season of refilling. For a type-A, productive personality, this desert of activity feels like a punishment. Yet, I know and trust my Jesus. This is not a punishment; it is a gift--a season of refilling. I'm in a place where I know I need more of Him and His ideas and His plans and less of mine. Oh, I'm still trying. Trying to fill my days and my time, but He keeps putting me right back in my home and whispering, "Wait. Renew. Refresh. Find Me with you here. In this space."

The seasons of refilling are just as important as the seasons of pouring.

I wonder how many of you are willing to let go, take a step of faith, and step into a yes to God in your life that does not fit in your box of I? I wonder what glory and power God will display through you when you do? I wonder how many of you need to accept your season of refilling and discover God's abiding presence in your desert of activity?

"Father, I know my box of I well. I know what I'm good at, where I can serve, where I can add to Your kingdom, but I submit to Your plan, Your process of renewal. I will wait, I will pray, and I will seek Your face, and should the day ever come again when the rate at which I'm being poured out seems too great and too much, I will cling to You in that day as well, knowing You alone can turn water into wine and make two loaves of bread feed 5,000. You are the Source and the Gift; I am just the vessel. Use me as You see fit, Lord."

Only Still Waters Ripple

My days and my season are quiet. I’ve moved my family and spent the past month creating a home of comfort, support, and safety for them. The pictures are hung, furniture placed, and food is in the pantry. If I were to do nothing else from this day forward, my home is lovely, inviting, and cozy.

Now what?

There is a quiet in this home I have not known before—a stillness begging to be absorbed. Like so many I know, my mind and physical body rage against stillness. Stillness in my mind is equated with uselessness, laziness, and lack of purpose, drive, and achievement.

Yet here I am. Feeling forced to be still for lack of no other choice. My Jesus is faithful to meet me here. I am never alone. This morning, in my reading, He gave me this promise and this challenge:

“The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me. Psalm 138:8……What a blessing to lose our own strength, wisdom, plans, and desires and to be where every ounce of our being becomes like a peaceful Sea of Galilee under the omnipotent feet of Jesus!” (Cowan, Streams in the Desert, pg. 345, 1997.)

The Lord WILL fulfill His purpose for me. In my mind’s eye, the word will is bold-faced and in all caps every time I read that verse. It’s as if the Lord is stamping His promise into my soul to keep the fires of hope alive. He does see me, exactly where I am. He is working His purposes even in this stillness. He has a plan for my life He will fulfill. My Jesus wants me to cling to Him and wait and not lose hope.

He is Lord of the insignificant too. What I often view as meaningless, He is already weaving into the plan of eternity. I hear Him whisper in the quiet, “Trust Me.” If it wasn’t so quiet in my life right now, I wonder if I would hear Him so clearly?

Then the challenge! To consider it a blessing to be given a clean slate, to be stripped of my strength, wisdom, plans, and desires?!?! I’m not sure I’m there yet, but I can tell you the process is painful. To wake up every day with only the day before you, trusting God to fill it as He sees fit, unable to use the gifts He’s given except in the small realm of the four walls where you generally just exist. Every fiber of my being rages and strives, and I inwardly scream at the Lord, “Give me more! There must be more I can do for You! There must be more You want me to accomplish!” Only to be answered by the quiet stillness of this home, this season, this space in time, and my Jesus’ abiding presence.

You see, my soul is not a peaceful Sea of Galilee…yet. Lucky for me, my Jesus walks on the water in the middle of the storms of life as well, and He brings the peace with Him. I do want my life to be a peaceful sea for His feet to tread. I want His every step on my life to ripple as far as the eye can see, so that when people encounter my life, they can’t help but be touched by the ripple effect of His feet walking across my deep waters.

Only still waters ripple.

“Father, forgive me for raging against the stillness You have given. Make my life as still as it needs to be for You to ripple across the surface, for all who encounter me, to encounter You.”

Forgiven, Not Perfect

There’s a misperception about Christ-followers that we are perfect people with perfect lives. That joy flows from our pores; unicorns and rainbows our constant companions. Even as a Christian, I often feel I have failed to represent Jesus well when these are not my realities or outlooks on life. But that’s not truth. Truth is I am a broken woman even after 35 years of following Jesus. I live in a broken and hurting world, and I am just as affected by the marching beat of its sin as the next person.

The difference is I choose to look to Jesus to save me—not myself, a job, a calling, a passion, or another person. Even in pursuit of Him, I fail.

Truthfully, I haven’t spent much time in God’s Word these past few weeks, not with the regularity that saved me and kept me sane during quarantine, not daily. Since the move, I’ve been low, down, fighting feelings of uselessness, worthlessness, and meaninglessness. I know all these feelings can be combated with time in God’s Word, allowing Him to fill my heart and mind, but the depression begs me to sleep.

It beckons me to stay in bed and pretend another day doesn’t need my presence a little while longer. It is a sneaky, difficult foe to fight. The worship music I play around the house is a soothing reminder of my Jesus keeping the darkness at bay.

I always wonder why I allow myself to fall into this trap. Why don’t I make time to fellowship with the Lord? Why do I allow myself to neglect time with Him when I know it only helps and never hurts? When I reflect, I come up with three deeply honest answers…

One, I silently, secretly blame God for putting me in this season, in this waiting room. In response, I think I can “punish” Him by withdrawing my fellowship. What a fool, I can be in my own pride. As if the Creator can be punished by the created. The truth is I only punish myself because fellowship with Him is the breath I breathe, the very air in my lungs. (Job 33:4) Not to mention, what a petty, vindictive way to treat the Man who wants nothing but the best for me; Who’s sacrificed everything to prove His love for me and asked only for my trust in return.

Second, I’m tired. I’m sad. I’m in the process of healing. It takes time to recover. It takes energy—heart, mind, body, and soul—to recuperate from a hard hit. Big life changes are hard hits. Even the ones you see coming, the ones for which you think you’ve prepared, still hurt on impact. My Jesus knows this, and He gives grace to the weary. I may not be reading His Word the way I know I should, but I also know He’s pouring His grace out over me and into my life. I can feel it when I close my eyes and give thanks for the small things. He never leaves me.

Third, like most people I know in life, I hate admitting when I’m wrong. There are days I willingly choose not to engage in God’s Word. I choose television, tasks, chores, phone calls, word games, internet scrolling, shopping, sleep, or even exercise, but I won’t choose time with my Jesus. Because I am stubborn, and I know meeting with Him requires a humbled heart willing to confess my sins and ask for forgiveness. It requires a willingness to let go of what I want in life, so I can receive what He wants to give. Sometimes, my stubborn, prideful heart just wants to hold on to what I want a little while longer. Yet, I cannot receive more of Him while also holding on with both hands to what I want.

Right now, when I do read my Bible, I’m reading through Acts. This past week there was one verse in the chapter that has held my mind’s eye ever since, even on the days I’ve chosen not to engage in His Word.

Acts 3:19: “Therefore repent and return, so that your sins may be wiped away, in order that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord.”

Isn’t my Jesus precious? Isn’t He gracious and good? When I read this verse, when it replays in my mind, it is not the voice of a sidewalk preacher. It is the voice of the Lover of my Soul pleading with me to come home and be with Him. Not begging as if He needs me but pleading out of love and concern because only He knows what is best for me, and He wants me to choose what’s best. He wants me to choose Him. To repent of my pride and foolishness and stubbornness, and simply return to His side where He promises my weary, hurting, healing heart, mind, and soul will be refreshed by His presence.

This friends, this makes all the difference. Christ-followers aren’t perfect; they are forgiven, and when we’re doing it well, when we’re living in the freedom of that forgiveness, there is a peace and joy and love that flows from the Holy Spirit dwelling with us. Emmanuel, God with us. You see Christians mess up just as much and just as badly as anyone else in this world, sometimes worse. But we’ve learned the art of admitting/confessing our mistakes, owning them, asking for forgiveness, and moving forward with another clean slate in the eyes of our God because of the shed blood of Christ. His mercies are new every morning and great is His faithfulness to His children (Lamentations 3:22-23)!

“Father, forgive me for my childishness. Forgive me for thinking I could punish You, Creator of the Universe. Forgive me for leaning into my weariness instead of leaning into You. Forgive me for my pride. Thank You for always being with me. Thank You that You never leave or forsake me no matter how often I leave and forsake You. Thank You for the promise of refreshing in Your presence. I’m here, Lord, with open hands. Fill me with more of You.”