If Your Cup Is Empty

I've never had a problem giving. Of myself and my time, that is. I've always wanted to be the person to save the day by offering my help. I feel so full of joy when I see that look of relief and gratitude on people's faces and they express their thanks. I end up feeling like I matter. Like I'm worth something, like I have something to offer. And I've always thought that was the best way to serve. I mean, that was my gift: helping.

I don't even know how long I had thought that for, and I don't think I ever thought that it could be a bad thing, until I had no more to give.

The past year-and-a-bit has been hard. Nothing tragic or really 'bad' has happened, but it has still been such a challenge. I don't really know what I thought would happen after I got married; maybe I thought that since it was such a long process to get to that point that we could only go up from there? That's definitely not what happened. My goodness, I have been stretched.

I think it hit me when I was sitting there at my table, the table of young girls I was supposed to be leading, and I was struggling to find any meaningful words to say. I felt like I was a robot; programmed to read off a piece of paper, set to speak in response to seemingly simple questions. I was weary. Drained. Burnt out. Looking back, I was working a very demanding job, often doing overtime hours while trying to solve students' political crises, I don't think I could have had anything left.

I was starting to dread the thought of helping. In fact, I often had meltdowns at home, telling Ryan that I didn't want to do anything at all anymore. I wanted to sleep and I wanted someone to wait on me and I wanted to never work another day in my life. Meanwhile, he was working ten hour days and heading straight to class in Toronto. As if he should be the one waiting on me.

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I read a really powerful story the other day. It was about a pastor from North America who visited a Jewish school while he was traveling. He happened to sit in on a history class where the teacher was explaining first-century marriage customs. It was tradition, when a man wanted to propose to a woman, for the paternal father to pass a cup of wine to his son, who would then pass it to the woman before asking for her hand in marriage. It was a symbol of a promise to be made.

Does this sound familiar? This is what we, as Christ-followers, participate in. Communion. A covenant. 

The really powerful thing about this whole picture, to me, comes in the symbol of the cup. That God, our Father, is the One filling the cup - because we need to be filled if we are going to give anything at all. We are not expected to give on our own - we need to give the Christ in us.

Even though I hadn't separated myself from church, or turned away from God, or anything extreme in that way, I wasn't giving myself any opportunities to be filled. I was trying to pour out of an empty cup. Impossible. It was incredible to see the change in my mindset towards helping after Ryan and I surrounded ourselves with Jesus-centered encouragers.

Hebrews 3:13-14

Encourage one another daily, as long as it is called “Today,” so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness. We have come to share in Christ, if indeed we hold our original conviction firmly to the very end.

Communion has two definitions in the typical dictionary. 1 - the sharing of intimate thoughts and feelings, on a mental or spiritual level. 2 - the consecration and sharing of bread and wine in Christian worship. Two incredibly fitting and powerful meanings. Both of which are fundamental to having anything to give. This covenant is sacred and has a profound impact on our wellbeing. We need our cups to be filled. We need to be reminded of Christ's love, just as we need to be reminded that we are not alone on this walk through life.

It is life-changing to be filled. 

The extra-beautiful thing is that when we are filled with Christ, we will always have more to give - we will never be empty. Even more, when our hands are open, God will multiply what we have. When we give of our human selves, however, we will run out. We will run dry. We will eventually realize that we are lacking anything of meaning.

A year ago, I felt like I was stuck in the midst of a life decision gone wrong. Being involved in the world seemed like a burden. Church seemed like a chore. I never stopped loving Jesus, but I stopped letting Him fill me with Himself.

I'm learning, now, the importance of communion. Community with Christ and His people. The filling of cups with Himself.

And what a powerful, beautiful, thing it is.