A sweet little cyclamen was handed to me as a thank you. I received the delicate flowering plant, then headed to the church door to greet the ladies as each one left. One in particular, stopped to talk with me. Her eyes filled with tears. “You spoke into the depths of my soul this morning. Thank you.”
I blushed at the gift of her words as we shared a moment.
This morning while waiting for the sunrise, I read about a woman who came to see Jesus with a heavy heart—a past stained with mistakes, regrets, and longing for love. She knelt down at Jesus’ feet and cried. Weeping so hard that her tears washed His feet. In adoration, she wiped His feet with her hair, kissed them, and poured perfume on them from her alabaster jar. An act of love for receiving her, just as she was. Jesus lovingly looked at her and said, Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
And she did. She took Jesus at His word and simply received His grace.
It’s difficult for me to accept gifts. I would rather give. I find my self floundering and protesting the gift.
“But Lord, I’ve…”
“Hush, Child. Turn from your old ways and look to me. I love you.”
Gifts come in many forms: from an inexpensive potted plant to a lavish alabaster jar of scented perfume…but the best gift of all is to hear the extravagant words, “You are forgiven.”
And there’s nothing greater to give in return, except to simply receive.