Firstfruits

Zucchini, tomatoes, tomatillos, peppers, Meyer lemons from the garden, near a bed of nasturtium and calendula.

This morning my Bible study took me through Joshua, Judges, and before going on into Ruth I decided to pause. Over and over the stories illustrated God's plan to use the most unlikely amongst us, the most ordinary, to fulfill His extraordinary plan. Common folk with timid hearts, with shortcomings, and weaknesses, and shameful pasts. Not the most moral or strongest amongst the Israelites, but often the lesser. 

One after another they questioned God's decisions to use them. Their hearts, timid and doubtful, were unable to see what parts, what pieces of themselves were worthy for God's plans.

I get that. I am that. Insignificant. Timid. Doubtful. Weak. 

Like Gideon, I, too, feel insignificant, at times. Gideon, echoed Moses' feelings of being ill-equipped to lead. He dared to even ask the Lord, "How can I rescue Israel? My people are the weakest, and I am the least of my entire family?" (Judges 6:15) And the Lord replies, simply, firmly, "I will be with you." (Judges 6:16)

Of course, Gideon is not comfortable to rest assured in God's word. He asks for signs, and only after God performs these miraculous signs, does Gideon trust God and go forth to defeat the Midianites. 

I like to believe God chooses the weak, insignificant, common folk for extraordinary purposes because in rising the weak to great strength, we are able to see His power and not ours. We fall back. If Gideon was a man of great means, great confidence and strength, what glory does God receive in his defeat of Midian? It would be easy for us to see the man and not the Creator of the man.

But what about me? I am not charged to go forth and save a nation. Thousands of people are not depending on me for safety, food, and shelter, for peace, for guidance away from sin. I am not Gideon, yet my heart feels as insignificant, my hands feel as ill-equipped to be used by God. When there are no magnificent signs left in the garden for me in the morning, no rocks consumed with fire, how am I to have confidence in God's molding of me? How He's designed me? Of His purpose for me?

Faith. Most Christians begin to answer those questions with faith, and end there. Faith in God, faith in His plan, and remembering His faithfulness to us.

Yes, faith. But, my friends, there is so much more. We must learn to be still and quiet with the Lord, and in these moments, pray not for our will--our insecurities to be destroyed, our dreams to be fulfilled, or lives to be restored--instead, these are the moments we pray for God's will. We pray for His will to be done not only in our lives, but in the greater world, because we all need healing. We are all pieces.

I have learned this is what it means to be Christian. To desire a will greater than my own, greater at healing, and spreading peace, greater at achieving beauty, greater at giving grace, love, and forgiveness. God's will is so much better than mine, and as I learn His ways, I want His will.

There, I find peace.

Let me go a bit further. I've been a Christian my entire life. There are stories of 4-year-old me telling my Papa, "Papa, I gotta change my life," after he'd read the Bible to me. Even when I believed myself Buddhist, when I explored other religions, when I believed all religions lead to the same God--I still believed in Christ. I was still thirsty for God, for Jesus. Even when I was silent, and feared persecution. Even when my faith was weak. Even then, I wanted God. I wanted Jesus. I have always been made to crave Him.

The difference today is my deep, heartfelt desire for His will. Not mine. Not yours. Not the worlds'. Not Facebook's or Instagram's, or my neighbor's. Not even my pastors', but God's will. I want what God wants.

I want His plan. I want to be known by Him. I want to uplift, honor, and glorify Him. I serve Him. Not me. Not my husband or kids, not my country or friends. Him.

In Him, only in Him, I have found peace. 

Now, as I've gotten a good ways into the Old Testament, I've noticed firstfruits were often given to the Lord. It was worship, but also a reminder that He is first in all. As I gathered up my first large harvest of the season yesterday evening--full of tomatoes, peppers, Meyer lemons, and squash--I thought of my desire to honor God. 

There are no temples or priests for me to go to and burn my tomatoes, and I'm most sure Edward and the kids would think I've gone crazy if I heaped our food onto our grill and lead us in prayer and burning. More important, I don't need to do that. Jesus sacrificed His life for mine. Jesus saves me.

Yet, I still desire to honor God. To give and tithe, to offer Him gifts of gratitude for His grace, His mercy, His faithfulness and love of me. All I have I want to give.

This is where I find peace. Where insecurity, doubt, thoughts of being ill-equipped and weak leave me. I write to honor God. My garden is a prayer of gratitude. I poem in praise. I adore him when I cook, consciously praising him for the blessing of food. If I paint, or sew, I praise Him for sight and the colors He allows me to see and be moved, inspired by.

My life, my words, my arts are my firstfruits, my praise and adoration, my gratitude for life and grace. My prayer, Lord, use me, today.

I am insignificant. Timid. Weak. Ill-equipped. For the world. But to Him and in Him, I am light. I am loved. I am so adored. 

Full Blessings to You,

Kiandra