Times come when there’s nothing left. Times when, unlike the widow’s plight in 2 Kings 4, the jar is bereft of a single drop of oil. In John 2, it was “no more wine.” For you, it may be another kind of nothing-left.
No more love.
No more energy.
Not one drop.
Jar’s bone dry.
No more love.
No more energy.
Not one drop.
Jar’s bone dry.
No one on earth knew Jesus better than Mary in the opening pages of John’s Gospel. She knew who he was. If anyone at all knew what he could do, she did. She offered no histrionics. Simply, “They have no more wine.” Then she glanced at those around her. “Do whatever he tells you.”
There’s so much I don’t know. But 50 years in with Jesus, of this I’m certain: He can fill up that bone-dry jar of yours. When every ounce of love has left that relationship. When every hint of hope has disappeared in that situation. When all your spiritual fervor has evaporated.
Tell Jesus what you lack. Don’t try to offer him multiple choice answers you can live with. You don’t have to prime the pump on a well of living water. Just tell him there’s nothing left. Tell him how you no longer have the energy to care. Bring him your bone-dry emptiness.
Because I’m just gonna tell you Jesus can fill stuff up like nobody I’ve ever known. I’ve been at the end of whatever again & again. “This is done, Lord. Stick a fork in it.” Game’s over. Call it. I’m dead. This is dead. It’s done.” Then 1 day I’ll hear something sloshing around.
I’ll check that old dead-dry ritual jar for water & won’t find an ounce. All gone. Not a drop of anything...
But wine.
Deep red, bountiful, beautiful.
To the brim.
About to spill.
Not cheap wine.
Jesus does nothing cheap.
He’s got what you need.
Bring him your emptiness.
But wine.
Deep red, bountiful, beautiful.
To the brim.
About to spill.
Not cheap wine.
Jesus does nothing cheap.
He’s got what you need.
Bring him your emptiness.
