Paper Cuts and Little Things
My Bible got coconut creamed today.
Just like anyone actively involved on a Sunday morning, I had been carrying a bag full of stuff: Bible, Sunday school lesson, speakers for the MP3 player, two flavored coffee creamers, assorted pens and pencils.
So somewhere along the way the coconut creamer met the pages of my Bible and my Bible got creamed! Augh!
Oh, that feeling, that sinking, shoulder slumping, disappointed feeling: where you just look and sigh.
And then the action to fix it, grabbing the paper towels and mopping up the sticky creaminess, separating all the pages and drying them off and as you're cleaning it up, at the same time realizing the extent of the damage.
Now this is not a big deal.
--To the rest of the world.
But it was my BIBLE.
MY Bible.
The one I use all the time.
It's not that there aren't a half-dozen other Bibles around the house, it's that it's my Bible, the one with all the notes in it, the one with all the verses underlined that have jumped right off the page and into my heart, the one that feels so familiar as I pick it up in the morning and sit down in my corner big blue chair wondering what I will find in it's pages today.
Again, this is a small thing. In a world filled with war and famine and conflict this is nothing. Even within my own circle of friends and their concerns, it's hardly worth mentioning in a passing conversation, but it affected me.
Our lives are filled with such things, aren't they? The little things that hurt--like a paper cut. You'd never need a bandage for that, but it feels like you do, it hurts a lot more than you want to give it credit for.
So where do we go with the paper cuts of our lives, with the creamed Bibles and the little disappointments that are like a slow leak out of the balloon of our happiness and contentment?
Take them to Jesus. To the same one to whom we take those big awful things in our lives, we can come with the small things that saddened only us. We come to the one who cares about us so much that He knows the number of hairs on our head. So for our little hurts--there's understanding there for them.
If someone loves you, really really loves you, they care about everything that concerns you.
I have called you by your name.
You are mine.
Just like anyone actively involved on a Sunday morning, I had been carrying a bag full of stuff: Bible, Sunday school lesson, speakers for the MP3 player, two flavored coffee creamers, assorted pens and pencils.
So somewhere along the way the coconut creamer met the pages of my Bible and my Bible got creamed! Augh!
Oh, that feeling, that sinking, shoulder slumping, disappointed feeling: where you just look and sigh.
And then the action to fix it, grabbing the paper towels and mopping up the sticky creaminess, separating all the pages and drying them off and as you're cleaning it up, at the same time realizing the extent of the damage.
Now this is not a big deal.
--To the rest of the world.
But it was my BIBLE.
MY Bible.
The one I use all the time.
It's not that there aren't a half-dozen other Bibles around the house, it's that it's my Bible, the one with all the notes in it, the one with all the verses underlined that have jumped right off the page and into my heart, the one that feels so familiar as I pick it up in the morning and sit down in my corner big blue chair wondering what I will find in it's pages today.
Again, this is a small thing. In a world filled with war and famine and conflict this is nothing. Even within my own circle of friends and their concerns, it's hardly worth mentioning in a passing conversation, but it affected me.
Our lives are filled with such things, aren't they? The little things that hurt--like a paper cut. You'd never need a bandage for that, but it feels like you do, it hurts a lot more than you want to give it credit for.
So where do we go with the paper cuts of our lives, with the creamed Bibles and the little disappointments that are like a slow leak out of the balloon of our happiness and contentment?
Take them to Jesus. To the same one to whom we take those big awful things in our lives, we can come with the small things that saddened only us. We come to the one who cares about us so much that He knows the number of hairs on our head. So for our little hurts--there's understanding there for them.
If someone loves you, really really loves you, they care about everything that concerns you.
I have loved you with an everlasting love.
I have called you by your name.
You are mine.
Comments
It seems I've had a different one for each season of my life, and now I can't get rid even of the ones I don't use anymore, because a piece of my past self is saved-- pressed-flower-like between its pages.