I want to give...
All of me. What is the purpose of my body, my hands, my feet, without their outpouring?
One of the ugliest sights is the vision of someone holding onto themselves with fists clutched tight, their skin rippling with the grip, their arms inhibited from catching any falling thing.
Whatever we do to the least of God's children, to the least of our brothers and sisters, to the hardest people to love or the easiest people to love, we do directly to God.
I don't want to live with starving God. I don't want to face the harsh reality that I have ignored His needs, His cries for help.
Granted, my God does not need me; He is not helpless in the slightest. He invites me. He welcomes me into a life of giving, of serving, of employing myself as His instrument. What greater purpose is there?
Once I've got that attitude dwelling within me, I must only ask God to show me how to direct my passion. Every morning, every afternoon... I ask that He shows me a need that I might fill it.
Eternal significance starts with humility here on Earth.
What can we do for each other?
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