Dear World, forgive me.
In my desire to share what is so important to me, so necessary, so powerful, so helpful, so true, I have neglected to notice this about you: your cup is not empty.*
Willing students, perhaps, come with polished, expectant cups. Some with them behind their backs, waiting to see if the offering is worth the sloshing that would come with the filling.
But all others who come, even the parched and those drunk on new wine, come with cups that are not empty. They are filled with what the world has already had to offer. People and places, ideas and conversations, mothers and fathers, families, traditions and cultures. So much.
If I want to pour my ideas into your cup, I need to understand what’s already there. Perhaps sit and sip a while. Have some tea and a teacake. Listen and look. Waft and taste. Touch and let myself be touched.
Only newborn children come with empty cups.
We fill them. The world fills them. With good things and love. With encouragement and praise. Or not. Oh holy Lord, sometimes … With abuse and neglect. With harsh words or impossible expectations. With hunger, loneliness, violence, despair. Lord, let us be bearers of hope for these.
Friend, your cup is not empty and neither is mine.
World, forgive me. Lord, forgive us. For our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. May we taste and see, seeking first to understand.
*Melinda Gates in her book, The Moment of Lift.
I really want to take life in big gulps. But God offers it to me in small sips. So I can taste and see that the Lord is good.
I would like just to have it all figured out. You know, what I’m meant to do, who I’m meant to be, how I’m meant to serve. The purpose of life for me, on a platter, please. I’d like just to drink it all down and have it settled in my tummy, readying me to take on the world. But God, in His ultimate wisdom and endless compassion says, “Wendy, this is what I have for you. This little bit.” What He doesn’t say, but I know He’s thinking is, “This is all you can handle.” I’m sure He is shaking His holy head at this.
Every now and then I get a sip that satisfies a little taste bud. A sip that has me saying, “Ah, now I know why I was meant to wait. I had to taste this and this before I could move on to the more advanced tasting group.” I would like to stop and linger over this. Enjoy the flavor, swish it around in my mouth and let it tickle my tongue like the connoisseurs do. And I think God does encourage us to celebrate these moments. He says, “Every time you drink this, remember me.” We call it communion. (Heaven forbid we do as the professional wine connoisseurs do and spit it out!)
But I’m not in danger of that. No, I’m more tempted to linger there. In that taste satisfying moment. To say, now that tasted good, may I please have some more?
Today, God reminded me that sips and not gulps are His way. Once I have tasted what I have sipped I am meant to be satisfied and move on to the next sip, the next experience, the next lesson. But take with me what I have drunk deeply of in this one, along with the comfort and God-confidence of knowing, that what I need He will provide. In it’s time.
O taste and see that the Lord is good;
Happy are those who take refuge in Him.” ~ Psalm 34:8