Out walking, I prayed.
Lord, I’m in need of some sort of confirmation, small something to say, keep waiting for it or keep writing or no.
Big things attempted, proposal and query, how embarrassing to walk away…
Decide it’s okay to stop or to persist?
A story came through scripture about the little boy with the little bit of bread and what Jesus told the disciples to tell the thousands.
“Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.”
John 6:10 ESV
Then he multiplied the loaf, a miraculous sight.
The people were well fed.
Before the panic began, Jesus assured their need was met.
I’ve stopped tracking my followers and I’ve stopped asking for subscribers to my newsletter.
I’ve never been great at asking for things, I’m content with slipping back into my safe place.
The place that says find me if you need something, I’m always willing to listen and to help if I’m able.
I can pray.
This is not effective according to many in the community called writing. Not effective or conducive to being published, to being read.
To being valid, being noticed.
I get that. I understand and yet, small feels safe now.
Being okay with small seems a significant decision for me.
If one person reads a blogpost or an early morning relatable “sermon to self” that I share and feels more at peace or intrigued.
Isn’t that ministry?
Isn’t that me?
Wherever your life touches another life, there you have opportunity. George S. Merriam
Out of the blue, a friend asked for prayer, said she feels dismissed, sort of lost and empty.
I sent her a message back, a prayer.
We long for significance.
We look to outsiders and we long to belong somewhere, to be amongst the fancy others we decide have more purpose, are fulfilling theirs.
I’m thinking now about a woman in the Bible who has no name.
She is a widow.
She walks through the crowd to deposit two copper coins, amounted to a penny.
I’m thinking the others all around were comparing their donations and maybe some were humble or all were haughty.
They probably didn’t hear the coins as they fell from her hand into the place called the treasury.
I imagine the widow quietly turning to go her way, back to her solitary home.
Jesus saw her.
He saw that she gave what she could.
All she had.
“Jesus looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the offering box, and he saw a poor widow put in two small copper coins. And he said, “Truly, I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.”
Luke 21:1-4 ESV
I’m more emotional now.
My throat is tight inside as I type and think of the worth of these words, the gift of what Jesus did.
We don’t know her name. We only know what she gave.
Yet, so significant.
I will check in with my friend later, hope she’s found some rest from her seeking to fill the emptiness.
Because I pondered whether we’re even supposed to believe we’re significant. I mean aren’t we supposed to be servants, meek and lowly
I learned a while back, a young preacher who called me a hero called out my idea of staying humble, staying hidden, not drawing attention.
Told me that was false humility, not God’s idea.
And I didn’t tell him then because it has taken me a while to believe it.
Just like the widow with only two cents,
I am significant.
So are you.