So, I’m searching for free today. I need some business cards and I’m not sure where to find them. I don’t want cheep–free, is really best for me. I would pay if I could, but this isn’t really a matter that I can substantiate with cash.
Do you have problems like these? Do you suffer living like a cheap-skate because nothing less will work–or is it, less is the only thing that will work? Do you get upset with yourself when you can’t offer more for what you need, when you can’t cover all your own costs. Do you grieve for the plans that die because you don’t have the means to support them?
I know where you’re coming from. I live there too. But, what do we do about it? I’m not really interested in why any of us–including myself–are here, I just want to find a solution. I want friends who can help me find a solution.
But, alas, there doesn’t seem to be one! Why do so many things have to hang on our shoulders when are shoulders are so slim? They’re not shaped like the shoulders of an ox or a plow horse–they work well with gym bags and pocketbooks, not heavy machinery that’s designed to move earth! I don’t care how mighty you are, the world is still not positively proportional to what you’re designed to handle.
That’s why we need Jesus. No part of this world was meant to be handled Jesus-less. No part of this world can be handled Jesus-less. Now, it may appear that we are bearing the load, but that is not the same thing as handling the load. Bearing implies being under a heavy load that just sits on us. We really are nothing but weight-bearers when this is the case. But handling implies that something can be manipulated, held-in-the-hand and made us of.
We often settle for bearing–despite the fact that our strength is of a very limited variety–when we could let God handle the situation so that it might be of some use to us! I count myself guilty in this. I like to pretend I’m a pack-animal for all the problems that come my way in this world, rather than admitting that the only things that should be resting on my shoulders are the hands of my Father. When He grips my shoulders I know what I’m made for and where I’m supposed to be. Worries go out the window because He’s there to convince me I’m okay because Calvary still stands to light my way through the darkness. Now, isn’t this more pleasant and prosperous than grunting and steaming under a load to which I don’t belong?