Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘purpose’

 It took all the effort Little Grass had, but he finally did it. The dirt that had surrounded him since birth no longer held him. He pushed through to the sunlight. Now he could grow tall. He could wave in the breeze with the other grasses and be drenched by the spring rains. He could feel the warmth of the sun’s rays cover him and stretch towards the sky. He grew and grew and grew. Life was great.

Then one day men came swinging large sharp things. Ouch! They whacked him off at the roots and bundled him up with the other grasses next to him.

“What is to happen to us?”

Another stalk of grass stacked under him sighed. “I have heard stories. This is the end, my friend. No more water will seep up into our veins because we have no roots. They will dry us out. We will become yellow and brittle.”

“No,” Little Grass trembled. “There has to be more. We must have a purpose.”

Another grass laying next to them laughed, but it was not a happy laugh. It sounded harsh and sad. “Our purpose is to be consumed. Either the animals will eat us so they can grow, our we will be thrown over coals and caught on fire so others can be warm.”

Yet another groaned. “We don’t matter. We’re worthless now. This is the end.”

“I don’t believe you. Any of you.” Little Grass straightened himself as long as he could. “We have more purpose than that. We have to. Why else would we have struggled so hard to push out of the darkness? We have found the sunlight and have bent towards it.”

“Yes, and all for nothing. The sun will now bare down on us and parch us until not a drop of moisture is left in our veins. We will become yellow and brittle. Dead. Why did we ever push out of the ground?”

Ropes were tied around the grasses and they were lifted high onto the back of animals.  Little Grass craned to see where they were going. “I had no idea the world was so big. All I could see was the tops of other grasses. Now I can see trees, and birds and mountains. Oh, this is wonderful.”

The other grasses moaned. “He just doesn’t get it, does he?”

Next, the grasses were spread out onto the dirt. The sun’s heat gleamed down onto them day after day. The little grass could feel all the water in his veins leaving him. He tried to keep it in, but the heat was stronger. He felt drained, thirsty. His stalk became stiff. No breeze flowed over him. He no longer could dance in the wind.  “But, at least this is making me stronger, less bendable. Maybe there is a reason. I have to believe that.”

The other grasses sighed. “He’ll learn. The worse is yet to come.”

A few days later, men came and gathered the grasses together again. Up onto back of another animal they went. Little Grass rode on the very top, and he was so happy to be on this adventure, but the other grasses grumbled and whined. They traveled over fields and across a stream of water. At night, the stars shone down on them as their animal carrier and the men rested. One star gleamed so much brighter than all the others.

“Oh, look at that.” Little Grass gasped. “I have never seen such a beautiful sight.”

The next day the bundle of grasses journeyed over a hill and down into a valley. Then, at dusk, the animal carrying the grasses stopped. People shuffled by, their sandals kicking up dirt. There were so many of them, and other animals, too. Where were they all going? A building up ahead had lanterns shining in its windows. They looked sort of like the stars.

“Are we going in there? Into that golden light?”

“No.” One of the other grasses sighed. “We will be in the stable. Soon the animals will eat us and we will die.”

The little piece of grass shook its stalk. “I don’t believe that. Something else will happen to us — something wonderful. We were made for another reason. I just know it.”

Then, a man gathered the grasses and spread them in a manager. “There. In the morning, the animals will have a feast.”

The grasses all whimpered and told each other goodbye. All except the little piece of grass.

In the middle of the night, strange noises woke the grasses. A donkey came in with a man and a woman. She groaned and huffed deep breaths. His voice was soothing and calm. Then, after a while, a third voice sounded—a soft babbling. It came from a very small human.

The woman took off her shawl, wrapped the wiggly baby in it and laid it on top of the Little Grass and the others. Immediately a warm glow spread through them. They became soft again, not stiff and scratchy.

“Oh, “Little Grass began to smile. “He has made us alive again.”

They wrapped their stalks around this child to keep him warm.

The grasses heard beautiful voices singing from above. Day and night, people came to look at the baby hugged by the grasses. They bowed and worshiped him as his parents stood by smiling.

“Praise be to God He found us this dry stable and these warm, soft grasses in which to lay his son, Jesus. “ The man gazed down at the grasses.

The people all echoed him. “Praise be to God for the stable and the grasses.”

A small amount of moisture left deep inside Little Grass formed into a drop, like a tear of joy.

“See, I knew we had a special purpose.”

The other grasses glowed with happiness and cuddled themselves around this child of God and worshipped him the only way they could — just by being there for His use.

For Scripture says… I raised you up for this very purpose, that I might display my power in you and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth. Romans 9:17

May The Lord bless you this Christmas and reveal His purpose for you in the upcoming year.                    

  Julie B Cosgrove

Read Full Post »

for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose. Philippians 2:13

Sometimes, I have doubts. I know I am not supposed to, but I’ve always been one who judged my efforts by tangible results. It’s why I  love to clean–my  house, the church altar, the car. I immediately see the fruits of my labor and it feels good.

As a digital missionary who writes and edits for The Life Project,but not yet fully funded to do the work, my efforts are not always as visible. I become frustrated and wonder if they will tell me they can’t use me anymore because I can’t pay my way, which would break my heart.

Or as an author who struggles to get anyone to read or review her novels, even if those who do usually award them 4-5 stars. (I can picture other writer and authors nodding. We all struggle with it.)

Sometimes, I just wonder…am I even making a difference? Why put out the effort? Am I fooling myself? Should I just hang this all up?

God quietly responded this past week. “You are doing fine, daughter. Keep going.” How?

  • My Life Project team sent me gifts as a thank you for my service and a nice note telling me how vital I am to the ministry.
  • One of my articles saved a Satanist, helped another woman in an abusive relationship, and has now been translated into French and picked up by two other missionary publications, reaching thousands more than most of the other articles.
  • A friend told me one devotional I wrote was exactly what she needed to hear that day.
  • Another devo converted a man in prison, and he has made copies for others to read.

I say this not to puff up my ego, but to show that if we ask, God will provide proof that we are in His will, even if we can’t see it. It was a confirmation that He not only has a purpose for me but loves me enough to show me, the one exhibiting a “ye of little faith” moment.

But then, as if to drive home the point, God intervened again.

I set a pot of eggs to boil on the stove, then gathered my trash, hung it to my walker, and shuffled it across the way to the apartment dumpster. When I came back inside, the place smelled weird and my cat kept sneezing. I turned the corner to see flames leaping on top of my stove.

I’d placed a pair of kitchen shears too close to the burner. The toxic odor of burning plastic quickly filled my nostrils and made my eyes water. Terrified, I prayed a split second prayer. What do I do?

My logical side kicked in. I put out the fire, clicked on the stove vent, and opened the patio door and windows to air the place out. Soon both my cat and I began to breathe better. And I’d caught it in time, so the fire alarm didn’t blare in our ears.

So why do I contribute this to God answering me? Feeling fairly good for once, I’d thought about also dragging my walker up to the front of my large complex to get my mail, but then got a strong message, “Um, no. Don’t do that. Go back and get  your car keys. That is a too much of a trek in your condition.”

Had I ignored that thought and gone anyway, the whole kitchen might have caught fire, the fire alarm blare, and who knows what would have happened to my cat, which is apartment bound, as he inhaled all of those fumes.

Some might say it was my subconscious or the “universe” that made me change my mind. To me, God’s Holy Spirit did, and in the process, confirmed three more things. First, He is always watching over me. Second, He is ready to guide me. Third, He cares about things like me not losing my eight-year-old cat after having to put down my nineteen-year-old one two weeks ago.

Recently, I found a holy pat on the back through little things that happened one right after the other. Where will you find God today? Why not ask Him to reveal Himself and confirm His love and purpose for you?

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

I have become like broken pottery. Psalm 31:12

The past fifteen months, a huge hammer has repeatedly smashed my world. I once carried my life in a beautiful bowl. A sudden job loss, poor health, and other issues have left what once felt solid in scattered, tiny shards. I didn’t know how to pick up the pieces.

Have you been there? Do I see you nodding?

Contemplating my situation, especially over the past year , I noticed a cross I have hanging next to my fireplace. I bought it years ago at a church festival…long before I turned my widowhood apartment into shades of turquoise. Most of it’s life it hung outside on a patio. But it matched my sofa now, so…

Who knew God would use it to show me He loves me?

It is a mosaic, made of three or four different china or pottery items that have been smashed into pieces. The artist gathered them together, placed them carefully in the cross mold, and then poured in the plaster of Paris to adhere them into a beautiful design.

What someone else might have swept up and dumped as useless trash, she saw as beauty. She could envision the end product. She arranged the pieces just so, and created something new, and stronger, and with new purpose.

I know I am not the first person to make this analogy. But it reminds me of what Jesus said to his disciples after everyone on the mount had been fed with the fishes and loaves.  “Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted” (John 6:12).

With Christ as my mold, the pieces of my life have been transformed into something new. He knew they’d come together in a wonderful way.  But first, they had to be broken to be repurposed. His Spirit has plastered these experiences together and made me stronger than before.

Thank you, Lord that You see the potential in each experience and that You will use it to Your glory and my benefit. Nothing is wasted. As You gathered the pieces of what I once had and began to mold them into my future,  I have drawn nearer to you, wrestled with my pride, and learned to lean on the generosity of others. Most of all, I know anew that You are always with me. Amen.

Read Full Post »

IMG_20130628_143418_192The church where I work has a prayer garden with shady trees, lovely flowers and a trickling fountain. So, of course it attracts all sorts of God’s creatures. From my window, I can watch an never-ending drama of nature unfold as the seasons pass.  Take the bugs, for example.

In late April and early May, black beetles were everywhere, even inside. You had to watch where you stepped.  Then in late May when the temperature soared, the mud-daubers woke from their hibernation and began building cylinder mud cones everywhere.  June bugs next made an appearance as did an amazing ground hornet that looked like a bee on steroids but was quite benevolent and totally oblivious to humans. The scorching summer has now brought grasshoppers and the lulling hum of katydids.

How awesome our God is to orchestrate this bug cycle.  Though not all pretty and at times annoying, each has a time and a purpose unto heaven, as the verses in Ecclesiastes say.

It helps me to realize that there will be different times in my life. Something will appear, perhaps just for a season. It may be a person, a book, a song, or a tidbit of wisdom gleaned from a passage in the Bible I never noticed up to that point. It may not be something I like. But it all flows from the One who knows all and has perfect timing.

Lord, teach me to be in sync with Your plan for my life, and to  anticipate each new serendipity that comes, And when things that “bug” me come around, let me see them as lessons You can use to make me into the beautiful creature You know I can be,  just as You are daily recreating the garden at this church.   Amen.

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: