A destitute widow was in financial distress. Her creditor threatened taking her two sons as slaves to cover her bills. She cried out to the prophet, Elisha.
Elisha was a smart man. Instead of giving her money or taking up a collection, he asked her what she had. She said, only a jar of oil. This was no ordinary cooking oil. It was perfumed, an oil used to anoint the body.
I smile as I think how typical of us women to hang on to something like this, even when there is no food or money to pay the rent. The oil may have bought her another meal, but she didn’t sell it. It turns out that this was a good thing.
Elisha told her, “Go, borrow vessels from everywhere, from all your neighbors—empty vessels; do not gather just a few. And when you have come in, you shall shut the door behind you and your sons; the pour it into all those vessels and set aside the full ones.”
Elisha left and she did what he told her to do, odd and impossible as it seemed. Then, when all the vessels were full, she told one of her sons to bring her another one. He replied, “There is not another vessel.” So the oil ceased. She told Elisha and he instructed her to sell the oil, pay her debt, and she and her sons could live on the rest.
My devotional book says something very profound about this story: “The divine almightiness is content to confine itself to our capacity . . . . Man has not the power to obtain anything more than God has given, but he has the option of taking less.”
In yesterday’s continuing grief, my own griefs come to mind. Hindsight shows me how many times I’ve been satisfied with too little from God. He offers me so much, even all of Himself, yet at times I’ve allowed my own poverty, spiritual and otherwise.
In the front jacket of Desiring God, John Piper says, “We are willing to settle for such pitiful pleasures . . . We have settled for a home, a family, a few friends, a job, a television, a microwave oven, an occasional night out, a yearly vacation, and perhaps a new personal computer. We have accustomed ourselves to such meager, short-lived pleasures that our capacity for joy has shriveled. And so our worship has shriveled. The scenery ad poetry and music of the majesty of God have dried up like a forgotten peach at the back of the refrigerator.”
Piper isn’t talking about financial riches, even though God can supply that too. This is more about the riches of deeply knowing Him. I’m noticing that those riches are not confined to one end of the spectrum, nor to just one segment of our lives. In the past few weeks, I’ve experienced His joy to the point that my face hurt from smiling. Yesterday and this morning He gives me His sorrow, just as deep as the joy.
Enjoyment of the majesty means knowing His heart, knowing what He loves and hates, knowing what gives Him pleasure and knowing what sparks revulsion in Him. It means feeling His range of emotions, experiencing all that He is. This includes being aware of my own poverty so I can know His superior riches, and feeling totally empty so I can know His fullness.
The women, had she known, could have searched the neighborhood for more jars. She could have filled her house, stacked them in the yard and on the roof. She settled for less, and in the economy of God, she did have enough for her needs, but she could of had more.
Knowing God is taking me into a range of emotions I would not otherwise feel. I wonder in what other areas of my life I’ve said that’s enough and left God wanting and waiting to give me more?
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