"You have anointed my head with oil; my cup overflows." (Psalm 23:5b NASB1995)
I don’t know about you, but I haven’t felt overflowing for a long while.
The other night I finally cracked open my much-anticipated copy of John Eldredge’s latest book, Resilient. It’s been sitting on my bedside table for weeks, patiently waiting it’s turn. Right out of the gate, he rang my bell.
“We tap into our deep reserves to endure years of suffering and deprivation.”
(I’m not going to rehash it. My regular readers likely have an inkling of the measure of suffering and deprivation I’ve experienced in the past decade.) I nodded knowingly and kept reading.
“One day our heart simply says “I don’t care anymore. I’m done.”
Though it was late and I was already under the covers, I was suddenly wide awake: alert to the precarious perch of my soul. I have felt pretty parched lately. I don’t want to quit: not my mission, ministry, marriage or family. And certainly not my God. I had to figure out how to refuel my dwindling reserves. Years of losses have diminished my resiliance. I wondered, how can I recover?
My mind went to, or was led to, the woman and her son, ready to make her last meal.
"Elijah said to her, "Don't be afraid, go home and do as you have said. But first make a small loaf of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me and then make something for yourself and your son." (1 Kings 18:13 NIV)
The widow’s instructions were to go on as planned, but first spend some of her dwindling reserves on God. When we take our little and invest it with the Lord, it becomes much. This feels terribly basic, but I have never before applied it to emotional stamina.
"For this is what the Lord the God of Israel, says: "The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the land."" (1 Kings 17:14 NIV)
If I’m understanding it correctly: if we’ll keep showing up with our scant jar and jug each day and pouring ourselves out to God first, He’ll surely sustain us. If we’ll entrust Him with our little, He’ll insure we have enough. And at some point, the rain will fall again.
I think about the dusty wait between rains and I remember the incredible architectural feat at Masada. Two or three inches of rain annually could be collected into cisterns large enough to sustain a city for an entire year. I wonder, are our souls similar? We can depend on God for daily provision, but when the clouds open, we store it up and fill our reserves all over again.
engineered by Herod the Great two thousand years prior.
Maybe you are in a drought season spiritually. Maybe dry spell has ushered in famine, too. And you are wondering just how much further you can go with the oil and flour down to drops and dusting. May I encourage you, friend, spend what little you have left on the Lord. Trust Him to continue to sustain you until the heavens open and the plenty arrives again.
"Now, brethren, we wish to make know to you the grace of God which has been given in the churches of Macedonia, that in a great ordeal of affliction their abundance of joy and their deep poverty overflowed in the wealth of their liberality. For I testify that according to their ability and beyond their ability, they gave of their own accord..." (2 Corinthians 8:1-3 NASB1995)
Lord, our reserves are low. Like the widow, we are wondering what happens when the oil runs dry and the flour is used up. We tend to hoard in such seasons, pulling in on ourselves and our problems. Don’t let us forget about You. You are our Sustainer. May we open up our cupboards and pull out all we have left to commune with You. Meet our need today and give us the strength to show up for sustenance again tomorrow. Keep us in close company until the rain comes and the land is fruitful again. Amen.