Photo by Quinn Vo
My wife shared her heart with me while we were on vacation a few weeks ago. And I wanted to share it with you. If this encourages you will you share it with someone who could use some encouragement? Thanks! - Nate
I raised my goldfish to the Lord. It wasn’t intentional. I lowered my hand immediately. Though I thought about putting it back up again.
You see that’s what my hands are like these days: they are full. And me? Well I’m usually distracted.
I used to think I was alone in my distractions. And then I looked around. Distraction fatigue is everywhere.
But for a moment I forgot the distractions. I forgot the fatigue. I forgot I was shushing a three-year-old. For a moment I wasn’t worried about the trash the five-year-old put on the church floor. Or the fact that the eight-year-old sat down one song earlier than I told him he could.
I forgot about the toddler strapped to my chest, which hopefully makes the bag of goldfish make sense now. Because for one line of the song. For one short refrain. For five heavenly seconds. I felt the Lord move. I felt blessed. I was thankful to be in the church. So I raised both hands because, in a rare moment, they didn’t have kids in them.
The toddler in my carrier noticed my inadvertent cheese-dust covered offering, and squealed. And the moment came to an end. You see this season of life doesn’t afford me long talks with Jesus. I don’t get to worship free of worrying over what my kids are doing.
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but some people come into a church empty. While others come with their hands full. God says to the empty and the full, “Bring what you have and come.”
If your heart feels empty because life has gone wonky…come. If you’re empty because relationships have fallen away...bring your emptiness. If you’re bursting at the seams with apprehensions, regret, or indifference … bring all of it and just come.
So, during this season I’m toting hands full of goldfish. Why? Because by the time I walk through the front doors I’m already tired. Just to get there I’ve spent the morning finding everyone’s masks and reminding them to pack a snack.
By the time we pull into the parking lot I’ve been explaining to my three-year-old that kid church is not open. And, no, we can’t go to Chick-fil-A after service. “How often do I have to repeat this?” I think for the seventh time in a minute. Or maybe that was seven times seven. Either way, it’s a good reminder to forgive myself.
I don’t have to lean on the expectations of a “normal” or “calm” service. The pastor gets it too. These are his kids making a mess on the front row. Literally.
More importantly God understands my season. God meets me where I am—goldfish and all. Amidst the minutes of mania. Blissfully stalled in the seconds of serenity. Or somewhere in between. He is still God. And He says, “Bring what you have and come.”
If you’re empty, show up and leave with something you need. If you’re full—leave a few things at the threshold. Heaven’s here for you. Our stuff isn’t about to surprise anyone on the other side of eternity.
When God says, “Bring me wat’cha got.” Do it. Every time. Any time. Do it at the baseball park, and the grocery store. Do it when you’re second hand shopping and pushing a stroller. Do it any day you can. Especially days that end in y. And if you find yourself close to a church on a Sunday, please do it there. Hear it when heaven extends this simple invitation, “Bring what you have and come.”
So I do. I did. And I will again. And when the song hits a lull and you hear a baby crying just look over. You’ll probably see me raise my goldfish to the Lord.