The Saturday Journal: True Story

There's a child and when this child reached the age of 18, the child's foster parents dropped the child off at the local homeless shelter. The child was no longer of use to them--no longer a paycheck.

True story.

There's this old restaurant and a man and his wife turned this empty space into a gathering place--a feeding station. And for over a decade now--every day--seven days a week--365 days a year--the doors are open at five for a meal--except for the Sabbath and breakfast is served--along with the Word of God-- for those who will stay and listen. There is no check at the door to see if a person is in need. The doors are open to the needy--the homeless--the poor--for the whosoever.

And on some evenings meals are brought and served by church groups and organizations and other nights when the calendar is bare--their meal is prepared by a few volunteers and the man and his wife--the meal--maybe a portion of beans and bread--leftovers from the night before, or whatever can be found in the pantry or freezer.

True story.

There was this woman from the city and she heard Jesus would be dining with the Pharisees--an invitation He received. And this uninvited woman, she came--not to sit at the table to eat--but to sit at Jesus' feet. And this "sinner" she brought with her--not food--but an alabaster box of ointment and a heart full of tears. This alabaster oil--worth a year's wages during this time was a costly gift for her to give Jesus. (Luke 7:36-60)

Was this act of sacrifice planned on her part or a last minute decision? Did she hear the news of Jesus being near and cover her head--grab the box of alabaster ointment off the shelf and run to him? Or did she procrastinate? Was she afraid?

Did she anticipate the reaction of the Pharisees--the looks--the name calling or the judging she would receive? Did she expect her flow of tears--tears so many she had no need of water to wash His feet?

Just how many tears does it take to produce enough water to wash caked on mud and sand from a person's feet? The Servant's feet?

And Jesus said, Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little. And He said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven. And He said to the woman, Thy faith hath save thee; go in peace. (Luke 7:47, 48, 50)

True story.

Charles H. Spurgeon wrote, "We should never know the music of the harp if the strings were left untouched; nor enjoy the juice of the grape if it were not trodden in the winepress; nor discover the sweet perfume of cinnamon if it were not pressed and beaten; nor feel the warmth of fire it the coals were not utterly consumed."

True story.

The young child who was dropped off--unwanted--unloved--he has mentors in his life now--those who heard his story, took compassionate on him. And they are guiding him with direction--loving him unconditionally.

True story.

We can stand back and do nothing--say the word "can't" or have the attitude of "nothing I say or do for others will matter in the long run".

BUT, here's the thing--what if this woman--what if she choose to stay home that day--never broke open the alabaster box--never washed Jesus' feet--never shed one tear.

Each and every time the doors open to this ministry welcoming in those in the name of Jesus with a simple meal--the alabaster box breaks again--

Each and every time our heart breaks--and we choose to help someone--the alabaster box breaks again and again.

True story.

March 7th--today--twelve years ago today, my Daddy crossed the river--from his earthly home to his heavenly home. And as I reflected on his life and the breaking of the alabaster box--I can recall many times--he gave. Whether he had killed a deer and needed to give the meat to someone or the time we replaced doors in my house--rather than wasting anything or discarding anything--He always knew someone to call in need--and those who came--shook Daddy's hand and thanked him for thinking of them.

True story.

And the blessing of an alabaster box is never meant to be sealed--contained--hoarded or saved--the box is meant to be broken and every last drop spilled out

---

I am grateful for each of you--more than you will ever know and I pray,

the stories shared in this space will encourage and bless you in some small way.

 If you would like to have The Saturday Journal, occasional newsletters or fictional stories

come straight to your email box, please subscribe at

http://www.tathelmiller.com

All photos @copyright Tathel Miller, unless otherwise credited to another photographer.

Soli Deo Gloria

Tathel