Author: Sherri (Page 8 of 9)

I was sitting at my desk, just having finished up my daily reading/studying/devotional session. I closed my books and returned them to the shelf, and then I grabbed a pen and tossed it into the cup I use as a pen holder.  I reached for a highlighter and did likewise, and then noticed yet a third pen and reached for it. When I did so, I realized that that  pen, just as the other two, had the name “Bic” imprinted on the side.  As I placed it in the cup, I fingered through the dozen or so pens there, and noticed that each and every one was made by Bic.

I sat back as stared at the cup, thinking how much it reminded me of us. There in that cup, was gathered a diverse group of instruments, all of various shapes, sizes and colors, and each made by the same manufacturer.  Each pen has a specific purpose; a purpose which the manufacturer knew before he designed the pen.  And knowing that purpose, he gave each pen exactly what it needed to carry out that intended purpose.

For instance, one has a felt tip that is beveled, and leaves a trail of bright neon color as it highlights text. Another also has a felt tip, but it is chiseled to a fine point, which enables us to write legibly.  And yet another is a ball point pen with a comfort grip; it allows for writing a long letter, or sitting and journaling with ease.

None of these pens would be successful if it tried to do the job that another was intended to do.  You cannot highlight with a sharpie and you cannot journal with a highlighter.  Each pen has its own specific purpose.

On the outside, they all look like pens.  Despite the different size and shapes, when you look at it, you know it’s a pen; it is what is on the inside that sets it apart. The outside is just an empty shell. The manufacturer knew exactly what task this pen was created for, and placed inside it all the components necessary to carry out that task.

But even when there is an intact, outer shell and all the internal components needed, on its own, the pen can do nothing.  Its full potential will lie dormant, until it is lifted up, and placed into the hand of one who knows exactly what it was created for.

And when that happens, when the pen lends itself to one who knows its purpose, it becomes powerful.  The pen has the ability to create a signature that will legally bind million dollar contracts.  It can put words on a page that can be used in a speech to impact the world.  It can write an encouraging note to a friend, and it can say, “I love you” to a child on his lunch bag.

But the power is not in the pen itself; it is in the ink that flows through the pen.  Each pen is created with a reservoir that is full, and as the pen is used for the purpose in which it was created, the ink begins to flow freely though the pen, to leave a mark on the page.  The more frequently the pen is used for its purpose, the more ink is poured out.  So much so, that the reservoir can become depleted.  Luckily, the manufacturer makes an endless supply of refills; we need only grab one from the shelf, pop it in, and the pen is as good as new.

It is amazing how alike we are—the common, ordinary, everyday pen and ourselves.  We too, are an empty shell, designed with everything in us that we need to fulfill our intended purpose.  And like the pen, our potential will also lie dormant until we allow ourselves to be placed into the hand of the One who created us. Only then will the Holy Spirit begin to flow through us, so that we too can leave a mark on the lives of those around us.

The mark made by a pen will often last only until the paper it was written upon is destroyed. But the mark made by the Holy Spirit through you will last for eternity.

When he finished speaking with him on Mount Sinai, he gave Moses two tablets of Testimony, slabs of stone, written with the finger of God—Ex 31:18

God has placed inside of you everything you need to enhance the lives of those around you. Make yourself available to him, and he will leave a mark for eternity.  Give it a try. You’ve got all the write stuff.

Last weekend we had an Estate Sale at my father’s house.  He had always enjoyed going to Estate Sales himself, so he had acquired quite the collection.  There were some valuable antiques, and there were some, well, interesting items to say the least.

My sister-in-law assumed the task of marking the items that were to be sold.  She had done her research, and spent hours combing online sites and comparing like items so that she could give an accurate asking price.

One of the things for sale was a set of old cast iron cooking pots—the large ones—like cauldrons.  These things were definitely old, and had obviously not been well cared for. They were rusted and covered in dirt.   They had some cracks, and one was even missing a rather large 6-inch piece from its side.

We arrived very early on the first morning of the sale, and saw that the cauldrons were priced at over $500. Most of the family, including myself, were amazed at the asking price, and pretty much assumed my sister-in-law had gone off the deep end! Ain’t nobody gonna pay that kind of a price for those rusty, broken old pots!

During the sale, I was positioned at the money table just inside the front door, and so I had an excellent view of the little rock garden where the pots sat. For two days I watched people as they walked by the area, stopped, and then looked down to see the price tag. Every single person scoffed at the asking price; some rolled their eyes, some made snide comments about the broken condition of the cauldrons. No one was interested in purchasing them, however. Not one person made an offer.

On the final day of the sale, a man stopped by. He climbed down from his pickup, and lowered himself to get a good look at the pots. For a while he just looked, but then after a bit, he reached out, and brushed away some dirt.

That man bought those cauldrons.  He paid full price because despite their condition, he knew their true value.  He stepped up in the bed of his truck, and he loaded all the rust and dirt, the cracked pots and the broken pieces, and he carried them away.

It occurred to me that we ourselves, are those pots. And over two thousand years ago, a man stopped by. He climbed down from his heaven, and he lowered himself to get a good look at us. After a while, he reached out, and brushed away our dirt.  Then he stepped up on his cross, loaded all of our brokenness–our guilt, our shame, and our sin, and carried it away. He paid the price because despite our condition, he knows our true value.  When we let the world, or an abusive spouse, or our past tell us that we are worth anything less than the ultimate price that he paid, we dishonor him. We dishonor his sacrifice.

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. –John 10:10

Just as those old cauldrons were sitting in a little rock garden, we too should be positioned on the Rock.  And when we are–when we find our identity in him, and understand our true value–then no one who passes by and mocks us, rolls their eyes, or makes snide comments can cause us to cheapen ourselves.

The world may  try and tell you that you are worthless, but remember……..Jesus thinks you are to die for.

I stopped at a convenience store on my way home from a trip recently, and I walked in to find that there were four people already in line. I took my place in the queue just as the man at the counter was handed his change. He turned to go, depositing the coins in his jeans pocket as he walked away. One, however missed the intended fabric compartment, and fell to the floor.

Each of us in line followed the bouncing coin with our eyes, seeing it come to a spinning halt just in front of the counter.  The man who dropped it took a step back and looked downward until he spotted the wayward money, but with a slight shrug of his shoulders, chose to leave it where it was and continue on his way.

The gentleman behind him stepped up to the counter, also ignoring the fallen coin. As he stepped away after having been served, I was able to see that it was not a silver coin that had fallen, but a penny. Just as the next lady stepped on it.  When the lady in front of me moved forward, she took care not to step on the abandoned coin, but over it.

As I approached and placed my goods on the counter, I looked down at the coin.  My back, aching from the long drive, reminded me that the floor was a long way down and told me to leave it, just like the rest had.

But my heart told me differently, for when I looked down at that penny, I noticed it had landed on “heads.” And instead of seeing the face of our past president, I saw the face of others who had been thrown out, stepped on and disregarded as worthless.

I stooped down to pick up the coin, despite the protest from my lumbar region. Although once I did it, the stretch felt good. It had appeared to be an old, dirty penny but upon getting a closer look, I saw it was minted just over 20 years ago. The date was hard to read however, for this penny was worn; the embossed date and Lincoln’s profile were almost smooth, and the copper covering bore the scratches and marks of being handled roughly.

I closed my fist around that coin, and I considered, You were thought worthless. Thrown out and disregarded. But you have worth. You are worth today the exact value placed on you by your maker.

It was about that time that I realized the cashier was handing me my own change, which I took and placed in my own pocket. I left the store still clutching the penny.

As I drove home, I wondered how many coins we step over every day—the homeless man on the corner; the socially awkward woman in our group; the annoying kid on the playground. Are we so busy and self-absorbed that we cannot be bothered?  Do we value them so little that we are not willing to reach out and lend a hand? Is our schedule so rigid that it cannot be bent?  We should try it sometime. We might find that actually, the stretch feels good.

Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me. –Matt 25:40 

Several years ago, my sister-in-law gave me one of those battery operated coin sorters. You drop a handful of change in the top, and it places the coins in the paper sleeves at the bottom. I emptied my pockets when I got home and let the little machine do its thing. During the process, the penny wrapper became full, and so I removed it from the machine and folded down the paper end. I then took the roll, which contained my convenience store friend along with 49 others, and dropped it into a basket where I keep all my rolled coins.

It is a large basket, and there were lots of different colored coin rolls in it. But I noticed several red sleeves emblazoned with “50 CENTS” and so I started to take them out and line them up on the floor. There were 20 rolls of pennies, totaling $10.

I thought about my convenience store penny. There’s not a lot you can buy with one cent today. Those people stepped over it because they didn’t think it had anything of value to contribute. But that penny—that one cent—when placed among others and wrapped together, has considerable value.

The total of all the coins in that basket added up to $265. That is a significant amount of money. Each coin on its own may not seem like much, even the dimes and quarters. But when all the denominations are placed together their value increases.

So maybe you’ll think twice about stepping over that forgotten penny next time. Maybe you will look past the dirt and the scratches and see its real value.

Or maybe you are the penny. You feel alone, abandoned and stepped over. You feel or have been told you are worthless. Not so! Every penny counts! You do have value! You have the exact same value placed on you by your Maker.  I encourage you to not sit at the curb and watch life pass by; get involved in your local church. Get connected to a small group. Get wrapped up with others, and watch how significantly the value increases with your contribution.

That’s my two cents.

For what it’s worth.