Won't You Accept This Cup?

                                        

                                              

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The difficulties of life are challenging. Each of us experiences our own unique challenges each day. The choice of how we respond is our own, and only ours to make each moment of each day. Will we receive what has been given us (even if it is not what we would have chosen for ourselves)? Or will we reject it, and go about our day working and striving to “receive” a better cup, one of our own making?






Life is to be celebrated and not conquered and fixed. It is in the “accepting” that we can come to that place of celebration, celebrating it all, the good with the bad, understanding that ALL is a gift. Never in striving or rejecting are we capable of accepting or giving thanks. A heart that is made hard cannot fully embrace and celebrate all of life, especially the challenges.






Not long ago a friend of mine asked me about a cup she could not find. She was staying with us and it had turned up missing. I told her I had not seen it but would keep my eyes open for it. Not once but twice again she inquired about the cup. I promised I would ask my family if they had perhaps seen it. They had not. It was a small clear plastic cup that you frequently see at various stores, nothing fancy or expensive. However, it had become clear to me that it was important to her. I felt bad that it had turned up missing and wondered if perhaps one of us had misplaced it after all? So I decided to get her a new cup.






Unfortunately the store I went to did not have the exact cup so I chose another one to give her; one that was larger and more brilliant in color, but I did not pay much for the gift.






When I approached her with it I could see that she felt bad that I had bought her a new cup. I could see the guilt in her eyes as she said it was not necessary and that she had not asked about it for that reason. She refused to take the cup. I explained it was a gift and she need not feel bad because it was not expensive. I told her it would bless me to bless her. I insisted she take it and handed it to her little son.






Not long afterward I received a text from her saying she would not accept it and I needed to take it back. I was angry and hurt. I ranted to my husband who couldn’t understand why I was so upset over an inexpensive cup. “It’s just a cup,” he said. But it was so much more than that. It was the refusal of a peace offering, a gift from the heart.






A few days later as I sat alone I began to complain to the Lord. I went on and on about one thing or another, clearly recognizing my grumbling quota for that day had been more than met. Still I continued on. In between breaths, I could almost hear him say, “Why do you refuse my cup?”






A pang hit my stomach. Just as my friend had refused my cup, I also had refused his cup. How many cups has the Lord given me each day that I refuse to take or acknowledge? When life did not line up with my perfect plan, how many cups have I tossed back at him with one excuse or another?






When Jesus was getting ready to be crucified he called out to God, the Father, and in his own humanity he asked if the cup of suffering which he was about to receive could be taken from him. But he quickly added to that, “Not my will, but yours Father.” It was because of the cup that Jesus embraced that we can fully live, truly celebrate life. Unlike my inexpensive cup, his cost him everything.






He received all and he gave all. Who am I to not receive the cup set before me?






Each moment is be received, embraced; the good and the bad. When we can come to that place of gratitude then we truly live.






Life is to be celebrated not conquered and fixed. Gratitude and acceptance is the path to the Father’s hand.









Won’t you accept this cup?

The Circus is coming to town

                                             

                                                                  

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When I was a little girl, my mother and I took a trip to see the Three Stooges in a circus event in St. Louis. Once at the Arena we stood in an ocean of people waiting in line for tickets. My mother insisted I hold her hand. I was not one to hold still and stood in awe at the colorful clowns who paraded throughout the crowd. Still I held my mother’s hand. Anticipation and excitement rose as I spied all the decorations and the smiles of all the children. I never have figured out when but somewhere along the line I let go of my mother’s hand. With my back to her I stood staring at the high ornate ceilings surrounded by windows; the sounds and colors almost too much to take in. A little boy next to me began to chat and we laughed and jumped up and down at the idea of finally getting to see the circus and the Three Stooges.


As I continued to talk to my new friend, the line began to move forward and like a good little girl I reached for my mother’s hand, my back still to her. I’m not sure how much time passed before I heard my mother’s voice call to me. I turned and to my horror I wasn't holding my mother’s hand but that of a stranger; a lady with a kind face. Thankfully Mom wasn't very far ahead of us in line and she turned and saw the expression on my face. The lady whose hand I held looked down at me, only then realizing I was not her daughter (who had also become distracted by the clown’s antics). She and my mother exchanged smiles and my mother took my hand. I remember my mother gently scolding me to pay attention or I could get lost in the crowd.


Isn't it strange how a memory will suddenly creep up on us at the craziest of times? I was flooded by this particular memory yesterday as I drove about town. I could not have been more than 4 or 5 years old at the time. Strangely, I can’t recall the circus at all. As I pondered on what had occurred I was thankful of the outcome that day. There is a spiritual lesson here as well.


Just as children we can be distracted by the things of this world. Our eyes divert from the safety of our Heavenly Father's hand and onto the things that dance about for our attention. Often times it is things that appear to be good and innocent that draws us away from the hand of our Father. And before we know it, we’re in the hand of the enemy. Thankfully our Father, just like my mother did, seeks us. He is faithful to seek his lost ones. How different the outcome could have been for me that day.


And so let us fix our eyes on our Father and abide in his safe embrace. When we lose sight of our Heavenly Father and his loving hand, danger lurks ready and willing to take our hand and lead us elsewhere.


1 John 2:15-17


New King James Version (NKJV)


Do Not Love the World





15 Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. 16 For all that is in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—is not of the Father but is of the world.17 And the world is passing away, and the lust of it; but he who does the will of God abides forever.




2 Corinthians 4:18


New International Version (NIV)


18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.


Psalm 63:8


I cling to you; your right hand upholds me

The Golden Thread

                                            

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She sat with the Lord one morning and stared at the shadows casting at her feet. No words came at first; they seemed stuck in the pit of her pain. Looking up with defeated eyes the words began to slowly spill along with her tears. To her amazement his unexpected reply gave great healing and peace. All that she had expected and all that she had experienced up to this point in her life did not prepare her for this sweet moment; honey to her mouth, a balm to a broken and defeated spirit, a refreshing of the driest of bones.


The words she poured forth were mere questions. Questions given throughout all generations, yet hers were personal and she hoped it would mean something to his listening ear. Her “whys” and “hows” had reached him times far too numerous to count. Yet in his unconditional love and mercy he was faithful to hear.


“Why have I been so defeated over and over again? No matter how hard I try, it seems that this same sadness and frustration has followed me since early childhood. You of all know even in my crib there was a great sadness. I cannot rid myself of it. I’ve tried, Lord, you know I have tried!” Boldness found its way into her heart as she continued her plea.


“I have worked hard, I have strived, I have even surrendered; and yet the victory never seems to stay. Pockets of time there was joy, but like a whisper it eventually fades. As I look back through my life, I see it is as this choking rope running through each phase of my life, choking the life right out of that chapter. I have fought and fought, but there is no more fight left, I am tired. I am defeated now Lord, I am overwhelmed; I cannot go on like this any longer. Some days are filled with such joy and hope and others this great sorrow creeps upon me and sucks the strength from me. Surely you can take this common thread and remove it from me?”


She could almost hear the sound of a tear running down his cheek. A breeze flowed over her and there was a smile in the sound of his reply. “Child, this thread has been a gift to you. What you see as suffering, I see as grace. What you see as defeat I see as a final victory. This thread is not just any thread but a Golden thread. I am purifying you to become more like me. It is a beautiful thing, not to be gotten rid of, but to be embraced. You see the now, but I see the results. You see the pain, and I see the final healing. You see the defeat, but I know the Victor. What you want to rid yourself of is the very thing that I will use in your life to bring beauty into the lives of others. So stop striving, and simply believe.”


Instinctively and unavailable to words, she understood. What she had prayed to be taken from her was the very thing that would become the story of her life, a beautiful tale. Though she had not recognized it, in her suffering and pain was great beauty, a golden thread; part of a greater story, a greater purpose. It was through His grace that she was always able to continue. No longer would she ask for it to be removed, instead only to be found faithful. Through it all, she recognized that in the pain and the joy she always ended up pointing to him. And in a new strange and miraculous way, that was enough.