Wednesday, August 1, 2012

My Cup Runneth Over

Anniversaries are something I look forward to with relish every year. For me, they help to gauge how far I've come and where I'm going. Some anniversaries are painful; others pleasant. And some--as you'll soon seen--inspire deep reflection.

Every once in a while I'll get an inkling to read over my previous journal entries. You know, just to see if I've acquired any sanity since scribbling down my thoughts. ;) Most of the time, I walk away feeling pretty discouraged or disgusted with myself. Let's just say my diary will never be consulted by any academic societies for its historical or philosophical insight...the psychiatric ward however? Maybe. ;)

On occasion though, something will pop out at me that I had entirely forgotten. And I'm so glad I have it. Because not only does it encourage me, it does much to substantiate that I'm not entirely insane! I'd like to share one of these entries with you, not for the sake of baring my heart on the internet, but because I don't think God intended us to keep His revelations a secret. ;)

The story I refer to comes from Mark 14:3-9, the story of Mary breaking her flask of oil over Jesus' feet. If you're not familiar with it already, I'd encourage you to read over the verses before reading this post.

August 1, 2011

I read these verses this morning during my quiet time, and I'm struck by the depth that is in them, though  have heard the story countless times. For some reason Mary's sacrifices affects me in an entirely different way. Perhaps it is because I too seek to bless God in some small way. He gives so much to me, blesses me with so many things, I feel the least I can do is make Him smile--even if it's only for a moment. Mary gave Jesus the most precious thing she owned. And she not only gave it freely, she broke it before him. I can't help but wonder if that was the moment she truly believed, and if it was an acknowledgement of her faith in Him. What a beautiful pictures it evokes. Mary, standing there, completely absorbed in Jesus, looking into his eyes and surrendering that last of her self-worth. The last thing that gave her esteem in material terms. And there was Jesus, receiving, completely enraptured by her worship. I wonder how deaf they were to the snide remarks and suspicious glances of those looking on? And I keep thinking, what in my life is so very precious to me that I would not be willing to break it for the sole pleasure of my Savior? LORD, may I have a heart that is willing to surrender all. That when you fill my life with joy to overflowing, I would not hold it so dear that I could not give it up again for your glory.


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