My Offering in His Hand

A little girl in bronze is holding a basket of firstfruits. Her head is slightly tipped looking so proudly at her offering. How can she be refused? Her willingness to give of her hard work, she arranged everything that it would tempt the senses and win her favor.

She is A statuette on a table in the corner of a restroom. Seems an odd place to display this precious piece of artwork. I wonder if the sculptor knows where it ended up. Maybe in his mind it would be in a large hall where crowds would gather, such as an art gallery, or in some wealthy home where it would be admired and discussed. Surely people would want to know of the creator's name and learn of his other work. Would you want your artwork that so obviously took hours upon hours to finish and perfect to  end up in a restroom?

What about my writing? Am I setting my sights on best seller lists?  Am I impatient, waiting to see hundreds of followers on social media? What if the only place it arrives is in a few hands, not even bound, but pages hole punched and tied together? Would I deem it valuable or would my mindset be of a lesser opinion? Is what I receive from God worthy of just one spectator or one reader? Am I to dictate where my offering goes?

There's a story of a widow who gave two mites in the Treasury in Mk 12:42-44. They equaled a farthing, which is 1/4 of one penny. Jesus observed her and said she had given more than all the others for it came from her poverty rather than her abundance. She took what the Lord had given her and gave it away. She knew she would be taken care of. How much could that one farthing feed? She wasn't concerned about how God would use what she placed in His hands. She just gave. Perhaps she had heard of how 5,000 had been fed with two fishes and 5 loaves of bread in Mk 6.

What the Lord gives us is for others, and we don't know how many will be blessed. I think our aim should be "do all  to bless all, but don't underestimate the value of one".  I don't frequently attend art galleries or enter homes of the wealthy. I entered the common restroom and found an uncommon, exquisitely sculptured piece of hope.