So send I you — by grace made strong;
To triumph o’er hosts of hell,
O’er darkness, death and sin;
My name to bear, and in that name to conquer
So send I you, my victory to win
These were the original words penned by Margaret Clarkson, a woman whose ventures in life and spiritual efforts had brought her to a place of loneliness and isolation. Feeling broken and emptied by her answer to the Lord's call she wrote these five lines to spur her on.
Years later, however, she looked back at the words she had written and saw in them a perspective that was slanted toward her own hurt. She thought again about her loneliness and isolation and personal struggles, and rewrote the words to reflect a different perspective.
So send I you to labor unrewarded,
To serve unpaid, unloved, unsought, unknown,
To bear rebuke, to suffer scorn and scoffing-
So send I you to toil for me alone.
So send I you to bind the bruised and broken,
O'er wand'ring souls to work, to weep, to wake,
To bear the burdens of a world aweary -
So send I you to suffer for My sake.
So send I you to loneliness and longing,
With heart ahung'ring for the loved and known,
Forsaking home and kindred, friend and dear one -
So send I you to know My love alone.
So send I you to leave your life's ambition,
To die to dear desire, self-will resign,
To labor long, and love where men revile you -
So send I you to lose your life in Mine.
So send I you to hearts made hard by hatred,
To eyes made blind because they will not see,
To spend, tho' it be blood, to spend and spare not -
So send I you to taste of Calvary.
"On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, 'Peace be with you!' After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. Again Jesus said, 'Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.' And with that he breathed on them and said, 'Receive the Holy Spirit.'"
~John 20:19-22
Praise God for those who show us a glimpse of what it means to taste of Calvary.
P.S. He is coming.
(for Matt)
Friday, December 14, 2007
Friday, December 07, 2007
Christmas Hymns
Did you know that your sense of smell diminishes 50% every 4 minutes? This means that if you are exposed to a scent without variation in intensity or other external factors you wouldn't smell it after 8 minutes. It makes more sense now how trash men can do their jobs, doesn't it. Well, I think the same thing is true with hearing. It seems that if you hear something often enough, you no longer are able to hear what it's saying.
'Tis the season to hear 15 different versions of no more than 15 different songs. Carol of the Bells is played by the Trans Siberian Orchestra, Burger King commercials, and the choir on Home Alone so much that the listener either dreams about it in his sleep or frustratedly turns off the radio or television whenever the song is played (or both, perhaps). Starting in early November there are stations dedicated entirely to carrying the jolly tunes to the stressed out Macy's and Kroger's crowds, and by the time Christmas day finally comes people often choose to have a quiet day with no organs or handbells or synthesizers.
While I am completely comfortable with people growing weary of "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" or "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas," I wonder what people think when they sing "The First Noel" at the candlelight service the night before Christmas.
"Jimmy's present never came."
"I don't remember how many cups of sugar are in that glaze."
"I wonder who cleans the wax off the carpet when we all leave."
"I'm so tired, I can't wait for tomorrow to be over."
"Is his family ever going to go home?"
These songs that we sing at Christmas are not meant to accomplish what the "other" songs accomplish. They were not written to spread cheer and merriment, the words and even the music were designed by brothers and sisters who have a deep humility at God's condescension to mankind. Men and women who were filled with awe at the magnitude of the moment while God himself left the glory of heaven and resided in a dismal dungheap wrapped in the same sort of linens that would later wrap his lifeless body at the cross.
These songs are not jolly, they are joyous - deeply joyous - and we have no less reason to sing them from the depths of our hearts and souls than did those who wrote the songs or the angels and shepherds which the songs describe.
Why lies he in such mean estate
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christian, fear: for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.
As a baby, the Word of God was silent, but in those quiet moments his very act of becoming a quiet baby was pleading for reconciliation with the Father!
~What Child is This?
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.
In that one night, God really confronted all the hopes and fears that had been building up for thousands of years
How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is given!
He was a king, for crying out loud! Where's the pomp? where's the circumstance?
~O Little Town of Bethlehem
O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice, rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
Those people are still in mourning because they don't know Emmanuel HAS come to them. O, Israel!
~O Come, O Come, Emmanuel
No more let sins and sorrows grow,
nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessing flow
far as the curse is found,
far as the curse is found,
far as, far as the curse is found.
As far as the curse has reached (which is EVERYTHING) Christ has come to make new and to bless.
~Joy to the World
Shepherds, why this jubilee?
If only we knew how to show jubilee. Have we not met the same
Christ?
~Angels We Have Heard on High
Risen with healing in His wings
Wings of healing - how desperately I need those wings to carry me and cover me.
~Hark, the Herald Angels Sing
Ye, who sang creation's story,
Now proclaim Messiah's birth:
Come and worship,
Come and worship
Worship Christ, the newborn King
Even as a baby, Christ was worthy of worship. Right now he sits at the right hand of the Father...where are the worshipers?
~Angels from the Realms of Glory
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees!
Can you imagine what it would feel like for the world when Christ first came? When for the first time the soul felt valuable. Sin and error and longing are so exhausting, and when that NEW and GLORIOUS MORNING came, the weary world rejoiced. What a thrill that first dawning of hope must've been. Of course they fell on their knees!
~O Holy NIght
1 Tim. 3:16 says, "Beyond all question, the mystery of godliness is great: he appeared in the body, was vindicated by the Spirit, was seen by angels, was preached among the nations, was believed on in the world, was received up in glory."
Mystery indeed.
According to Amy Grant's version of Christmas, "You don't have to be a child to love the mystery." Do you love the mystery, or has it become just another thing to turn down on the radio?
It takes only 8 minutes to lose your sense of smell. I hate to think how quickly the words we hear so often lose their meaning.
'Tis the season to hear 15 different versions of no more than 15 different songs. Carol of the Bells is played by the Trans Siberian Orchestra, Burger King commercials, and the choir on Home Alone so much that the listener either dreams about it in his sleep or frustratedly turns off the radio or television whenever the song is played (or both, perhaps). Starting in early November there are stations dedicated entirely to carrying the jolly tunes to the stressed out Macy's and Kroger's crowds, and by the time Christmas day finally comes people often choose to have a quiet day with no organs or handbells or synthesizers.
While I am completely comfortable with people growing weary of "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" or "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas," I wonder what people think when they sing "The First Noel" at the candlelight service the night before Christmas.
"Jimmy's present never came."
"I don't remember how many cups of sugar are in that glaze."
"I wonder who cleans the wax off the carpet when we all leave."
"I'm so tired, I can't wait for tomorrow to be over."
"Is his family ever going to go home?"
These songs that we sing at Christmas are not meant to accomplish what the "other" songs accomplish. They were not written to spread cheer and merriment, the words and even the music were designed by brothers and sisters who have a deep humility at God's condescension to mankind. Men and women who were filled with awe at the magnitude of the moment while God himself left the glory of heaven and resided in a dismal dungheap wrapped in the same sort of linens that would later wrap his lifeless body at the cross.
These songs are not jolly, they are joyous - deeply joyous - and we have no less reason to sing them from the depths of our hearts and souls than did those who wrote the songs or the angels and shepherds which the songs describe.
Why lies he in such mean estate
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christian, fear: for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.
As a baby, the Word of God was silent, but in those quiet moments his very act of becoming a quiet baby was pleading for reconciliation with the Father!
~What Child is This?
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.
In that one night, God really confronted all the hopes and fears that had been building up for thousands of years
How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is given!
He was a king, for crying out loud! Where's the pomp? where's the circumstance?
~O Little Town of Bethlehem
O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice, rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
Those people are still in mourning because they don't know Emmanuel HAS come to them. O, Israel!
~O Come, O Come, Emmanuel
No more let sins and sorrows grow,
nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessing flow
far as the curse is found,
far as the curse is found,
far as, far as the curse is found.
As far as the curse has reached (which is EVERYTHING) Christ has come to make new and to bless.
~Joy to the World
Shepherds, why this jubilee?
If only we knew how to show jubilee. Have we not met the same
Christ?
~Angels We Have Heard on High
Risen with healing in His wings
Wings of healing - how desperately I need those wings to carry me and cover me.
~Hark, the Herald Angels Sing
Ye, who sang creation's story,
Now proclaim Messiah's birth:
Come and worship,
Come and worship
Worship Christ, the newborn King
Even as a baby, Christ was worthy of worship. Right now he sits at the right hand of the Father...where are the worshipers?
~Angels from the Realms of Glory
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees!
Can you imagine what it would feel like for the world when Christ first came? When for the first time the soul felt valuable. Sin and error and longing are so exhausting, and when that NEW and GLORIOUS MORNING came, the weary world rejoiced. What a thrill that first dawning of hope must've been. Of course they fell on their knees!
~O Holy NIght
1 Tim. 3:16 says, "Beyond all question, the mystery of godliness is great: he appeared in the body, was vindicated by the Spirit, was seen by angels, was preached among the nations, was believed on in the world, was received up in glory."
Mystery indeed.
According to Amy Grant's version of Christmas, "You don't have to be a child to love the mystery." Do you love the mystery, or has it become just another thing to turn down on the radio?
It takes only 8 minutes to lose your sense of smell. I hate to think how quickly the words we hear so often lose their meaning.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Baggage Claim
He leaned against the square pillar and rubbed his eyes. “This is ridiculous,” he mumbled, a little bit louder than he had intended. He watched as the remaining passengers started to file toward the Customer Service booth off to the side of the carousel. “Never fails.”
Instead of adding himself as one more frantic and frustrated customer to the already zealous crowd he decided to check the other carousels to see if it was misplaced.
He walked down the wide corridor – which was far too busy for 3:47 AM – and yawned as he watched the other sleepy passengers as they shoved past each other to check the tags on the generic black fabric suitcase before it started its slow journey around the room.
When he reached the last conveyer – which was empty and surrounded by tired, grumpy people - he stretched his arms and stopped to get a drink from the water fountain. He watched the agitated businessmen and the sleeping 2-year-old twins and the confused Korean tourists as they all waited for the lights to flash and the alarm to sound in order to announce the coming of their luggage. He shook his head. He knew it was only a matter of time before they had to add themselves to the ever-growing line in front of the little old lady at the Customer Service booth.
A young woman and her son were trying to guess which bags belonged to which passengers. “Who do you think has that big green one?” or “There’s one with a purple ribbon on it. Who do you see that you think likes purple the most?”
He was impressed with how well the game held the little boy’s attention. “I wish that would entertain me.” He looked across the faces of the people hovering in a clump around the luggage chute and tried to decipher which one he thought liked purple the most. He sighed, realizing that not only did he have no clue, but he really was completely uninterested. All he wanted was his own bag.
“I just want to go home” he thought. “Could this have happened at a worst time?”
He switched his backpack to his other shoulder and turned back toward Carousel 4, hoping maybe, just maybe, it had come out later than all the rest. He could see from a distance that his hopes would be fruitless, so begrudgingly he headed toward the long line of disgruntled customers.
“Welcome home, Son.”
He hadn’t even stopped walking before his eyes started to get blurry. He turned to see his father’s strong eyes, still as piercing as ever but also brimming with tears. “It’s good to have you back.”
He lowered his backpack to his feet and shook his father’s sturdy hand, then they gave each other a hard hug, a strong hug, an I-can’t-believe-I-get-to-see-you-again hug.
“You ready?”
Everything in him wanted to just get in the car and drive off and worry about the bag tomorrow, but he knew once he was home it would be a horridly long drive back to the airport to come and claim it.
“Do you mind waiting? They lost my bag.”
“Oh, did you have more than just the one?”
He looked down to see that on the ground about five feet away was his brown hard shell thrift store suitcase with a bumper sticker collage covering one side of it.
“You had it?”
“I was waitin’ for you and I saw it come out, so I grabbed it.”
“How’d you know it was mine?”
“Son. I was with you when you got it.” He smiled a gentle smile. “Although you have added quite a few things to it since then. I don’t even know what most of these mean.”
He reshouldered his backpack and leaned over to pick up his suitcase, but his dad’s hand reached it first.
“I’ve got it, Son. The car’s this way.”
“Dad, I can carry it. A wheel’s broken so it doesn’t roll.”
He’d seen that look in his dad’s eyes before and he knew it wouldn’t accomplish much to argue with him (especially as tired as he was), so he decided to negotiate.
“Here, why don’t you carry my backpack?”
“Sure, yeah, I can do that.”
He stiffly stooped down to set the suitcase back on the floor and then threaded his arms through the straps of the backpack while his son held it up for him. “Doesn’t this thing fall off o’ you? How do I tighten these things?” and he started tugging at the plastic buckles. His son showed him how to pull the straps tighter so that his gray-haired old man looked more like a kindergartner on the first day of school. His father reached down and again picked up the suitcase.
“Dad!” He quickly grabbed the handle of his suitcase to pull it from his father’s hands.
“Son,” the older man whispered back. He paused and looked into his father’s eyes which were again getting misty. “Son, I just wanted you to come back safe. You’re here, and I just want to get you home.”
The sincerity that he saw in his father’s demeanor made him wrestle with himself, and in the end he conceded. He willed himself to pry open his fingers that were wrapped tightly around the broken black handle. Unable to think of anything to say, he awkwardly whispered back, “Thank you.”
His father grinned and patted his son on the back. “Now, let’s getcha home.”
-------------
Me: “How did you know which one was mine?”
My Father: “I was there when you got it…but you really made it your own, didn’t you?”
Me: “It’s too heavy for you.”
My Father: “You sure did pack it full, but I want to carry it for you.”
Me: “Why don’t you just carry the little one, I’ll take care of the big one?”
My Father: “Why don’t you just let me love you this way?”
Me: “You don’t have to.”
My Father: “I’m so glad you’re here. Let’s getcha home.”
Praise be to the LORD, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.
~Psalm 68:19
Instead of adding himself as one more frantic and frustrated customer to the already zealous crowd he decided to check the other carousels to see if it was misplaced.
He walked down the wide corridor – which was far too busy for 3:47 AM – and yawned as he watched the other sleepy passengers as they shoved past each other to check the tags on the generic black fabric suitcase before it started its slow journey around the room.
When he reached the last conveyer – which was empty and surrounded by tired, grumpy people - he stretched his arms and stopped to get a drink from the water fountain. He watched the agitated businessmen and the sleeping 2-year-old twins and the confused Korean tourists as they all waited for the lights to flash and the alarm to sound in order to announce the coming of their luggage. He shook his head. He knew it was only a matter of time before they had to add themselves to the ever-growing line in front of the little old lady at the Customer Service booth.
A young woman and her son were trying to guess which bags belonged to which passengers. “Who do you think has that big green one?” or “There’s one with a purple ribbon on it. Who do you see that you think likes purple the most?”
He was impressed with how well the game held the little boy’s attention. “I wish that would entertain me.” He looked across the faces of the people hovering in a clump around the luggage chute and tried to decipher which one he thought liked purple the most. He sighed, realizing that not only did he have no clue, but he really was completely uninterested. All he wanted was his own bag.
“I just want to go home” he thought. “Could this have happened at a worst time?”
He switched his backpack to his other shoulder and turned back toward Carousel 4, hoping maybe, just maybe, it had come out later than all the rest. He could see from a distance that his hopes would be fruitless, so begrudgingly he headed toward the long line of disgruntled customers.
“Welcome home, Son.”
He hadn’t even stopped walking before his eyes started to get blurry. He turned to see his father’s strong eyes, still as piercing as ever but also brimming with tears. “It’s good to have you back.”
He lowered his backpack to his feet and shook his father’s sturdy hand, then they gave each other a hard hug, a strong hug, an I-can’t-believe-I-get-to-see-you-again hug.
“You ready?”
Everything in him wanted to just get in the car and drive off and worry about the bag tomorrow, but he knew once he was home it would be a horridly long drive back to the airport to come and claim it.
“Do you mind waiting? They lost my bag.”
“Oh, did you have more than just the one?”
He looked down to see that on the ground about five feet away was his brown hard shell thrift store suitcase with a bumper sticker collage covering one side of it.
“You had it?”
“I was waitin’ for you and I saw it come out, so I grabbed it.”
“How’d you know it was mine?”
“Son. I was with you when you got it.” He smiled a gentle smile. “Although you have added quite a few things to it since then. I don’t even know what most of these mean.”
He reshouldered his backpack and leaned over to pick up his suitcase, but his dad’s hand reached it first.
“I’ve got it, Son. The car’s this way.”
“Dad, I can carry it. A wheel’s broken so it doesn’t roll.”
He’d seen that look in his dad’s eyes before and he knew it wouldn’t accomplish much to argue with him (especially as tired as he was), so he decided to negotiate.
“Here, why don’t you carry my backpack?”
“Sure, yeah, I can do that.”
He stiffly stooped down to set the suitcase back on the floor and then threaded his arms through the straps of the backpack while his son held it up for him. “Doesn’t this thing fall off o’ you? How do I tighten these things?” and he started tugging at the plastic buckles. His son showed him how to pull the straps tighter so that his gray-haired old man looked more like a kindergartner on the first day of school. His father reached down and again picked up the suitcase.
“Dad!” He quickly grabbed the handle of his suitcase to pull it from his father’s hands.
“Son,” the older man whispered back. He paused and looked into his father’s eyes which were again getting misty. “Son, I just wanted you to come back safe. You’re here, and I just want to get you home.”
The sincerity that he saw in his father’s demeanor made him wrestle with himself, and in the end he conceded. He willed himself to pry open his fingers that were wrapped tightly around the broken black handle. Unable to think of anything to say, he awkwardly whispered back, “Thank you.”
His father grinned and patted his son on the back. “Now, let’s getcha home.”
-------------
Me: “How did you know which one was mine?”
My Father: “I was there when you got it…but you really made it your own, didn’t you?”
Me: “It’s too heavy for you.”
My Father: “You sure did pack it full, but I want to carry it for you.”
Me: “Why don’t you just carry the little one, I’ll take care of the big one?”
My Father: “Why don’t you just let me love you this way?”
Me: “You don’t have to.”
My Father: “I’m so glad you’re here. Let’s getcha home.”
Praise be to the LORD, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.
~Psalm 68:19
Thursday, October 25, 2007
All rights reserved.
The following is a registered trademark...only it hasn't been registered yet and the trademark doesn't exist.
I work as the Assitant for Business Development at an insurance company - Santa Fe Auto Insurance, to be exact. Were you to look at my contact list with the extension numbers for important people within the company you would most likely notice the same thing I noticed shortly after my tenure here began, although I didn't think to question it until much later. There are an inordinate number of Maxwells that work at this company. Now, I know it's not exactly an uncommon last name, but to have 4 Maxwells at a small auto insurance company?
I have since learned that the president of the company, Mr. Doug Maxwell, is the big brother or the web developer guy, John Maxwell, who are both related in some capacity to Jim Maxwell (also titled as "management"). I am yet to figure out where Max Maxwell fits in, but the IT supervisor is Greg Steible who is married to a formerly-Ms.-Maxwell.
This family run business (as it turns out) has gotten my little wheels a-crankin'. How would a Wauer-run family business be set-up? Who would be in which positions? What would we sell? This was the result of dinner conversation in the Hoff household (*note: because of limited employees, some may hold various positions until the decision is made to add more team members):
Company Name: Mommen Candies, Inc.
Specialization: Lollipops
Slogan: "Mommen Pops: for serious suckers only"
Chief Executive Officer (CEO): George Wauer
Chief Operating Officer (COO): Sarah St. Andre
Head of HR: Jennifer Wauer
Information Technology Supervisor: Steve Teske
Web Design: Jason Wauer
Tech Support: Rebekah Teske
Demographics and Field research: Beverly Wauer, Nathan Hoff
PR/Sales: Trinh Wauer, Jason Wauer, Ben Wauer, Ashleigh Henry Wauer, Brian St. Andre
Marketing and Promotions: Erin Teske, Abby Hoff
Advertisement: Ellie Teske, Eben Wauer, Moriah Wauer, Anna Teske, Magen Wauer, Abram Wauer
Customer Service: Beverly Wauer, Jennifer Wauer, Nathan Hoff
Maintenance: Dustin Wauer
Although this company does not exist (sadly...be honest, don't you want a lollipop right now?) it did help me to realize something that's so simple yet so profound: everybody has a place. There wasn't one person in my seemingly oversized family that I thought, "and they could...be...something...um...having to do with...sitting." Everybody has a role, everybody has a function, everybody contributes. It wasn't whether they had a part to play (in my mind, of course), but it was am I willing to think about what their part might be.
I think a lot of times we look around and say, "I don't know what I can contribute here," or even worse "I don't really see what they bring to the table." It's not a matter of "if", it's a matter of "what".
We have different gifts according to the grace given us. If a man's gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully.
~Romans 12:6-8
What part do you play? What part has been given to those around you? What are you going to do about it?
I, for one, am going to tell my mom she'd be a great lollipop researcher.
I work as the Assitant for Business Development at an insurance company - Santa Fe Auto Insurance, to be exact. Were you to look at my contact list with the extension numbers for important people within the company you would most likely notice the same thing I noticed shortly after my tenure here began, although I didn't think to question it until much later. There are an inordinate number of Maxwells that work at this company. Now, I know it's not exactly an uncommon last name, but to have 4 Maxwells at a small auto insurance company?
I have since learned that the president of the company, Mr. Doug Maxwell, is the big brother or the web developer guy, John Maxwell, who are both related in some capacity to Jim Maxwell (also titled as "management"). I am yet to figure out where Max Maxwell fits in, but the IT supervisor is Greg Steible who is married to a formerly-Ms.-Maxwell.
This family run business (as it turns out) has gotten my little wheels a-crankin'. How would a Wauer-run family business be set-up? Who would be in which positions? What would we sell? This was the result of dinner conversation in the Hoff household (*note: because of limited employees, some may hold various positions until the decision is made to add more team members):
Company Name: Mommen Candies, Inc.
Specialization: Lollipops
Slogan: "Mommen Pops: for serious suckers only"
Chief Executive Officer (CEO): George Wauer
Chief Operating Officer (COO): Sarah St. Andre
Head of HR: Jennifer Wauer
Information Technology Supervisor: Steve Teske
Web Design: Jason Wauer
Tech Support: Rebekah Teske
Demographics and Field research: Beverly Wauer, Nathan Hoff
PR/Sales: Trinh Wauer, Jason Wauer, Ben Wauer, Ashleigh Henry Wauer, Brian St. Andre
Marketing and Promotions: Erin Teske, Abby Hoff
Advertisement: Ellie Teske, Eben Wauer, Moriah Wauer, Anna Teske, Magen Wauer, Abram Wauer
Customer Service: Beverly Wauer, Jennifer Wauer, Nathan Hoff
Maintenance: Dustin Wauer
Although this company does not exist (sadly...be honest, don't you want a lollipop right now?) it did help me to realize something that's so simple yet so profound: everybody has a place. There wasn't one person in my seemingly oversized family that I thought, "and they could...be...something...um...having to do with...sitting." Everybody has a role, everybody has a function, everybody contributes. It wasn't whether they had a part to play (in my mind, of course), but it was am I willing to think about what their part might be.
I think a lot of times we look around and say, "I don't know what I can contribute here," or even worse "I don't really see what they bring to the table." It's not a matter of "if", it's a matter of "what".
We have different gifts according to the grace given us. If a man's gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully.
~Romans 12:6-8
What part do you play? What part has been given to those around you? What are you going to do about it?
I, for one, am going to tell my mom she'd be a great lollipop researcher.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)