Destination: Manakambahinikely~Morarano-Chrome

No greater satisfaction is there than serving Christ. With each new offering we give, He fills our lamps anew with sweet oil, burning ever brighter. Only once I experiences this refill does my previous hoarding of time and energy prove to be the most foolish decision I have made. Some how I convince myself that by holding back from giving everything I will have some leftover. Little did I know, that those leftovers pale in comparison to the flood He pours on those who do not hold anything back.  This overwhelming truth continually resounded on a trip to two villages, Manakambahinikely and Morarano-Chrome, taken with a mission team from Mooreland, OK and my family. I entered the trip knowing that it would be my last time to travel to such a place (at least for quite some time), and I hoped that big things awaited me. God's big things are always so incredibly surprising.

On Sunday morning Debbie, a beautiful woman of faith from Mooreland, gave a short devotional to the children of the small church there. She told the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000. Beginning with the small boy's packed lunch, she did little but recount the tale. One packed lunch. 5,000 people on a hillside. Twelve doubtful disciples. A boy willing to go hungry. And one Savior who knew better. Simple yet so profound. The disciples objection to the boy's lunch, convicted me to the core. The boy's complete offering proved to be more powerful than they ever could have imagined. Christ took the entirety of the lunch, and then proceeded to pour out an overwhelming abundance on not only him but every single person on that hillside, including the men who first saw no potential in it. What a flood of provision and blessing Christ poured out on those present that day. A seemingly difficult sacrifice for the little boy became the best one he ever made. Debbie closed with a statement along the lines of, "God can use the little you have for big things" and a shrinking feeling came over me. Father, why do I convince myself that somehow I am fully satisfied with my five loaves and two fish, when you have demonstrated to the world that you do not ask self-sufficiency of us. You do not give us gifts for us to hold tightly to them, afraid they'll slip away. You did not die on a cross and carry the weight of our sin so that we could settle in on the hillside instead of running to you with all we have like the boy did. Open up the eyes of your children, that we might once again see your promise of an overflowing cup. One that cannot run dry, but continually runs and runs and runs. May we not become satisfied with stagnant water, but let all its contents flow freely outward, as we anticipate, thirstily, a flood from our Savior.

I returned from this trip humbled. Eight years in Madagascar, and still I learn more than I ever think I will. God's immensity astounds me continually. It's not a fair deal: my loaves and fish for His infinite grandeur. But I guess that undeserved grace is what is so astounding about Him.