only a moment.

Have you ever thought about how different your life would be without certain people in it? Without the impact that they had on your life? Would you still be who you are today? 

In March of 1999, my cousin, Erica, died in a horrible car accident. She was only 16. I still consider her funeral to be one of the most influential moments in my life. Her friends from high school got up and shared about the way that she lived her life. They said that they had never known anyone who was so real and genuine. They cried through stories of how her strength and encouragement changed their lives. Her faith was tangible and she impacted more people than she would ever know. Even at 8 years old, their words moved me and set the stage for how I would go about living my life, or at least, it’s how I try to live. 

These are just some thoughts that I’ve had recently on the importance of your influence. We are only on this earth for a moment. Influence is continuous, cyclical even: others influence you as you influence others. Think about those who have influenced you in some way. Some may have had a little impact, while others changed your life. Regardless of the size of their contribution, have you taken the time to thank them for the impact they’ve had on your life? If not, you really should consider it, because chances are, they are completely unaware. 

And have you thought about the impact that you might have had or are having on someone else? Influence happens in a moment, and sometimes we’re oblivious to it. What kind of influence are you having? Positive or negative? Are you speaking life or death? If actions speak louder than words, stop talking. Evaluate what you’re doing, because if your actions and words contradict each other, you’ve already lost your voice.  

I Timothy 4:12 

Be an example to all believers in what you say, in the way you live, in your love, your faith, and your purity.

Your life is full of moments, full of choices that are guiding where you will walk. Your choices leave a mark, a path, if you will. The question is...

Are your footprints worth following?

seek the Kingdom.

I was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor by a dirty brick wall. (It’s funny...my favorite place to spend time with God is sitting on the floor. I just think it’s incredible that God would care enough to personalize a picture for me so well with something that means so much to me.) I was sitting there with my arms resting on my knees and my hands came together, resting gently, one on top of the other, almost like they were cupped. As I was praying, something (aqueous, I assume) began to pour into my cupped hands. Right when it was about to overflow, it stopped. I sat there holding what was given to me as if it was the most precious, fragile thing I had ever held. I was excited to see what God was going to next, hoping that He would start pouring into me again and it would begin to overflow, spilling over the edge of my cupped hands. But, instead, God spoke. 

“Pour it out here.” 

Suddenly, I heard the sound of people weeping. I couldn’t see any of them, but I heard them. A whole chorus of broken voices. 

And I pleaded with God, “But this is for me! This is mine! You gave this to ME! Why should I get rid of it?” 

And God spoke again, “Pour it out.” 

My hands started trembling and tears rolled down my face. Though I didn’t utter the words, the question that was really plaguing me was clear: “But what happens if I become empty? What then?”. God was silent. I sat there, immobile, lost in the cries that surrounded me, trying to decide if obedience was really worth losing what I had received. With trembling hands, I began to pour it out, not all of it, but some. 

“Pour it out over here now.” 

Again, I decided to obey and poured out just a bit more. This happened several times until I had only a small amount left in my hands. God gave the command again, and again, I pleaded.

“Pour it out.” 

“But then I’ll be completely empty.” 

“Pour it out.” 

“But I won’t have anything left!” 

“Pour it out.”

“But are you going to fill me up again?” 

Silence. Somehow I knew that had to trust Him and poured out what was left. The crying stopped. Though I was presently empty, I was flooded with peace. 

After a few minutes of silence, something began to pour into my hands and I smiled as a single tear rolled down my cheek. 

This picture didn't make sense until I read Matthew 6:33 and now I can’t read that verse without remembering this picture.  Too often I get sucked into making this life about me and my personal relationship with God. And that's great! God so delights in the simpliest attempts at meeting with Him. But seeking the Kingdom is beyond me and my comfort zone. 

Sometimes, seeking the Kingdom means pouring out what God has given me, even without the promise of being refilled.