It sits atop the cabinet which houses a few china teacups, two pottery goblets, and my housemate’s teapot, all waiting to be filled and poured out again.
A few months back, a canvas stretched full across the frame. The painting was cut free, sent far to bless a friend. Now the frame waits, hanger for bits of encouragement until it is chosen to host another canvas. In the waiting, it reminds. We are the frame, the teapot, the goblets. He is the artist, the host. We cannot fill ourselves or others. We can only stay open.
We wait, trust, ask. He fills. Again and again, in His time, He fills with art like no other and water that He turns to wine.
He fills us full, then pours us out, giving through us what He has given to us.
Waiting, being filled, being poured out. Emptiness, the brush of paint across canvas, the cutting away and giving to bless. Each stage is part of the one whole of being made gift.
So, friend, if today you're aware of your emptiness, it's okay. You can rest in the love of the One who will fill you again in His time.
If you're full, give Him thanks. And keep your eyes open to see whose thirst He might want to quench through you.
And if you're being poured out, grace to you, friend. He who pours was first poured out Himself, and He pours gently, giving Himself freely to you in the process. Lean in close and hear Him rejoice over you.
Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times and in every way. The Lord be with all of you."
(2 Thessalonians 3:16)