“For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure.”
Let’s begin with this: I understand that I am not Paul. Paul the great Apostle of our Lord Jesus Christ, was a minister who knew what suffering meant. He tells the Christians in Corinth that he had “been flogged five times with the Jews’ thirty-nine lashes, beaten by Roman rods three times, pummeled with rocks once.” He had “been shipwrecked three times, and immersed in the open sea for a night and a day.” Back then traveling was a nightmare. Paul “had to ford rivers, fend off robbers, struggle with friends, struggle with foes.” He was “at risk in the city, at risk in the country, endangered by desert sun and sea storm, and betrayed by those whom he thought were his brothers. He knew drudgery and hard labor, many a long and lonely night without sleep, many a missed meal, blasted by the cold, naked to the weather. And that’s not the half of it, when you throw in the daily pressures and anxieties of all the churches. When someone got to the end of his rope, Paul felt the desperation in his bones. When someone was duped into sin, an angry fire burned in his gut. So, before I go any further with what I’m about say I want you, the reader, to believe me when I say,
“I am not Paul, but I have been poured out like a drink offering over the past few weeks.
Last week, a brand new, unopened bottle of water sat in the cup holder of my car. After a particularly hard day last Tuesday, I sat in my car staring at that bottle of water. Then something terrible happened. I watched in horror as someone reached into my car and took my water bottle from me. Their face was covered and I couldn’t exactly tell who this stranger was at first. I sat there as He tore open the bottle and began to pour all of the water out onto the road. This assailant emptied the bottle slowly and methodically. I realized that this wasn’t a bottle of Dasani. This bottle was my heart and the precious water inside was my soul. My very self was what was being emptied- the contents of my life spilling onto the highway little by little.
I immediately became aware of exactly who this stranger was. We have all met this hideous creature. His name is Struggle and he had been using situations, people, and things to steal my life away. Things like my lack of sleep and frustrations with others did their part to take some of my soul. Daily concerns about health, money and family took their fair share. Then came the deluge: The past few weeks at work have been meeting after meeting and email after email and worry after worry. Before I knew it the bottle was empty. There was absolutely nothing left. There was my life poured out on I-85 for all of the world to see. The puddle that was created was there for everyone to criticize, critique, and mock. All I was left with was an empty bottle. Struggle then took the bottle and placed it under his foot. He scratched his talons across the surface of the bottle before he slammed his foot onto the ground leaving the bottle crushed. He then kicked the bottle back to me. Talk about insult to injury. Now, there I stood and all that I was left with was a scratched, crushed, empty bottle.
Again, I may not understand suffering on the same level that Paul did. My experience of suffering is a far cry from what starving children thousands of miles away experience everyday. But my experience is every bit as real and every bit as painful to me. I stood there empty. I was drained and I was spent.
This has been my reality for the past few months. My reality- like it or not.
So, last Wednesday I took my crushed, empty bottle to a leadership conference in Atlanta. I wasn’t expecting too much. A small paper cup of water to get me by was all I wanted. Like young Oliver Twist, I just wanted a little more. The speakers were good but it was just like every other conference I’ve ever been to.
Except, I heard a familiar voice.
The voice said to me, “Micheal, Micheal, Micheal, whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
I looked down at the life that had been poured out on the ground, my frustrations, my worries, my feelings of rejection, of failure, of persecution and I cried out to the Lord saying, “Father, I am empty. I have allowed myself to be drained of all that I am. I have nothing but a shell left. My scratched, crushed life. Father take this life. Take this misspent, broken body and make me yours again. restore me Lord. I offer this to you and only. Lord, please.”
Then the Lord did what He does best. He made all things new again.
The bottle that I hold in my hands right now has been made new again. In fact, it has a couple of extra ounces in it. The plastic is restored and it even has a brand new label. The label reads “Eternal Springs: New Skin Bottling Company.”
I wasn’t changed by a particular speaker. I wasn’t changed by a song from the worship band. I didn’t get some fresh resource and I didn’t make a new contact.
No, I was changed when I stood there helpless and watched my Savior defeat Struggle, Sin, and Evil in my life. He did what I could never do. He has set a new love and a new vision of what it means to be a disciple in my heart. It’s like Niagara Fall in here.
All Glory and Honor and Wisdon and Power and Praise to Jesus the Christ!