Nothing is Essential
Mar 12:38-44: In His teaching He was saying: "Beware of the scribes who like to walk around in long robes, and like respectful greetings in the market places, and chief seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets, who devour widows' houses, and for appearance's sake offer long prayers; these will receive greater condemnation." And He sat down opposite the treasury, and began observing how the people were putting money into the treasury; and many rich people were putting in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which amount to a cent. Calling His disciples to Him, He said to them, "Truly I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the contributors to the treasury; for they all put in out of their surplus, but she, out of her poverty, put in all she owned, all she had to live on."
Compared to the large sums of the many rich people, the two coins of the poor widow was almost nothing. Nothing and everything, because it was "all she owned". So it became a very important nothing.
These verses have become very important for me. Most of you know that I have recently come back to Romania from two semesters at the L'Abri centre near London, and the manager of our community's publishing house (Koinónia publishing, www.koinonia.ro) has asked me to again be the editor of our popular mission magazine (Kis tükör, "Little Mirror"). Before this request, I had returned with no employment prospects, feeling that I have nothing to offer in this difficult job market. And in thinking about filling this position, felt that I had so little to give or share in this confusing and difficult period of my life.
But I have realized from this passage that my only hope to make a meaningful contribution, to bear fruit, is to accept my nothingness and to confess it, to give it to the Lord. I know a story about a man who wanted to become a novitiate at a monastery, and in his interview with the abbot told him that he had no spiritual qualifications, no wisdom, no experiential or theological knowledge, no personal spirituality. "Very good," was the abbot's surprising reply, "your room will be number 23 in this corridor." Of course common sense would suggest a response more along the lines of "I'm sorry to hear this; may God prepare you so that you can re-apply when you are truly ready." Instead, the abbot continued, "Of course it is not good, not good at all, that you possess none of these very important spiritual attributes; but I am confident that if you remain with us being who you are and giving of what little you have, you will acquire them and share them with us all."
So the nothing that I am and have can be the very source of God producing fruit in my life and work. For God, only my nothing can be like the bread ("Master, the crowd is hungry and we have nothing but five loaves.") from which Jesus fed the thousands. Here Jesus says to us that the scribes "devour widows' houses": in other words, they suck something into themselves from others, they consume rather than produce. This is why their luxury, honor, and long prayers "will receive greater condemnation". These are less, not more, than the required nothing.
[EM, from the opening devotion of the a TSI (Bible college) board meeting, September 2010]
Compared to the large sums of the many rich people, the two coins of the poor widow was almost nothing. Nothing and everything, because it was "all she owned". So it became a very important nothing.
These verses have become very important for me. Most of you know that I have recently come back to Romania from two semesters at the L'Abri centre near London, and the manager of our community's publishing house (Koinónia publishing, www.koinonia.ro) has asked me to again be the editor of our popular mission magazine (Kis tükör, "Little Mirror"). Before this request, I had returned with no employment prospects, feeling that I have nothing to offer in this difficult job market. And in thinking about filling this position, felt that I had so little to give or share in this confusing and difficult period of my life.
But I have realized from this passage that my only hope to make a meaningful contribution, to bear fruit, is to accept my nothingness and to confess it, to give it to the Lord. I know a story about a man who wanted to become a novitiate at a monastery, and in his interview with the abbot told him that he had no spiritual qualifications, no wisdom, no experiential or theological knowledge, no personal spirituality. "Very good," was the abbot's surprising reply, "your room will be number 23 in this corridor." Of course common sense would suggest a response more along the lines of "I'm sorry to hear this; may God prepare you so that you can re-apply when you are truly ready." Instead, the abbot continued, "Of course it is not good, not good at all, that you possess none of these very important spiritual attributes; but I am confident that if you remain with us being who you are and giving of what little you have, you will acquire them and share them with us all."
So the nothing that I am and have can be the very source of God producing fruit in my life and work. For God, only my nothing can be like the bread ("Master, the crowd is hungry and we have nothing but five loaves.") from which Jesus fed the thousands. Here Jesus says to us that the scribes "devour widows' houses": in other words, they suck something into themselves from others, they consume rather than produce. This is why their luxury, honor, and long prayers "will receive greater condemnation". These are less, not more, than the required nothing.
[EM, from the opening devotion of the a TSI (Bible college) board meeting, September 2010]