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Offerings are something more. They are something special. Sometimes we might find an offering to God in an unexpected place. Yes, God has prompted my heart to bless a family in need financially or offer dinner deliveries to a struggling friend. God has called me to give extra to support missions at various times. However, I never expected my body to be an offering to God. My actions, yes. My money, yes. My body? No.
I have always been a homebody. I love the feeling of home—the smells, the coziness, the space to be my full self and exhale deep. In college my sorority sisters would lovingly tease me about my corner of our shared room—every square inch of the walls were covered with pictures, quotes, and magazine covers. I enjoyed creating spaces that were warm, inviting, and inspired others, even on a non-existent budget. I wanted to bring beauty in and share it with those around me. And all of these years later, this is still my heart.
She was our mail lady, but most importantly, she was our friend. I don’t believe she had a single stranger along her daily route. And over the years, her deliveries went far beyond envelopes and packages to hugs, cheerful greetings, a handmade artisanal nativity, and one memorable day in late spring, wrinkled daffodil bulbs.
I stood on the edge of the porch, paintbrush in hand. As the white paint slathered onto the wood, covering all the imperfections, the parallel wasn’t lost on me. I knew I was standing in the middle of a do over. I had lived a dark season of failing God. He knew it and I knew it. The choice of returning to that dark place was before me. Was I willing to make the other choice this time, the choice of following Jesus and His way?