“Faith is the gift of God. So is the air, but you have to breathe it; so is bread, but you have to eat it; so is water, but you have to drink it.” — D.L. Moody
The gift that comes in the midst of your hard, through the uncertain times, and amidst tear-stained face is always — I will show you, I will make you, I will bless you.
“I will”, says God, the Father of all compassion and the God of all comfort, who steps in to pick up your bruised heart and the battered trust, who loves you through and through and holds you like no one else could.
He uses every material, then slowly concocts, gently simmers, and meticulously prepares you for a life where your own pitcher will always be full.
Yeah, there’s no kidding it.
There’s a way to be full even when you feel emptied out, dried up, broken and busted.
Because opening your heart after crawling through a tunnel of trauma or trying to brave yourself through after some dysfunctions of sorts can feel like opening up the valves of bloody chambers beating in the slow rhythm of life.
And I know that they don’t always hold funerals for the living.
And that life doesn’t always allow you to sit and weep, stand and mourn.
But when God comes — He rains blessings in places too poor, too parched, too painful, because He has promises of blessings greater and stronger than our starkest, darkest reality.
“I will bless you…and you shall be a blessing” (Genesis 12:1-3)
This gift that comes for Abraham — for departing from the certainty of Ur into the uncertainty of the Promised Land — is the gift that comes not with just instruction, but also assurance.
“I will show you, I will bless you, I will make you …”
To firstly come to a place where He blesses you, makes you, builds you and heals you, so you can then comfort others with the comfort you have been given, with the love you have been favoured is to experience His blessing so you can live a blessing.
Faith is a whisper along these words, to make these promises yours:
“Lord, make my pitcher full so I can pour it out for others. Be my shield always, and surround and surprise me with Your love today.”
Because the eyes of faith will see the very places that pain us as the places He prepares us.
So we can testify:
That no amount of abandonment can ever make Him abandon you.
And no volume of betrayals will ever make Him reject you.
The crucibles aren’t meant to crucify you, but circumcise you.
And when all the scars cause you to turn heavenward, and you begin to notice stars remaking the canvas of your life, you can’t help but thank Him for every pain turning into praise.
“Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed I have a beautiful inheritance.” (Psalm 16:5-6)
(Photo 4 and 8: Pixels)