Every Good Gift
Pause:
Before you start reading this devotional, take a moment to stop what you’re doing, slow down, and focus on Jesus. Pray and ask Him to open your eyes to see as you read the Scriptures, and to open your ears to hear as you wait on the leading of the Spirit.
Read:
James 1:16-17: “Don’t be deceived my dear brothers and sisters. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”
Going Deeper:
There is a picture that has hung above our piano for the last 14 years. A man with a bouquet of roses bending low and handing them to a woman and over the image the painted words, “I gave her roses and she blames me for the thorns.” I’ve always been captivated by that statement. It’s a beautiful and brutal observation. A gift that encompasses so much beauty being held in contempt due to its thorny form.
It begs the question, can the rose be considered a perfect gift, or at the very least a good gift? With its’ stunning looks and intoxicating fragrance robed in sharp, pain-inducing briers.
One commentator suggests “James is thinking specifically of His gifts ‘with special reference to their action on the soul of a man.’” The gifts are whole, complete, lacking nothing in meeting the needs of the recipient.
I have to admit (and maybe you can relate), this year is rough. And I have spent a lot of time grieving and complaining, questioning and waiting. Grieving all the changes while at the same time waiting for a change. And interestingly enough, changing amid the waiting. And maybe that is the perfect gift of it all. A never-changing Father who bends low to hand me a beautifully uncomfortable, not what I was expecting, thorn-covered change because it’s going to make me more like Him.
I was sitting outside this afternoon hoping those dark clouds that had hovered overhead all day would finally release their fury. I sat underneath the umbrella and waited. Small drops started to hit the pavement. The kids came outside in all of their rambunctious glory and I was instantly irritated. Didn’t they realize this was a sacred moment? I finally was getting to experience a summer rain, after weeks of hoping and chasing and waiting. “If you’re out here, you are quiet.” And inside they went. My eyes were fixated again on the pavement, the drops drying up as fast as they landed.
A child comes out again, this time with a bloody paper towel over his wrist. A wrestling match went wrong. I reluctantly got up to parent, the offender sent to the bedroom for a bit. I sat back outside, took a deep breath, and continued watching and waiting. “Please give me rain!” In other words, I want my rose.
Twenty minutes later I realized I still needed to go upstairs and have a talk with the offender. I sadly left whatever raindrops were splashing around and headed into her room. A surrender.
We unexpectedly ended up having a forty-minute conversation about the gospel and my 10-year-old girl asked if I would help her pray. She wanted to ask Jesus to be the King of her life.
Leslie Jamison recently made the comment, “I think surprise is an important part of grace. You thought you wanted cookies, but you really needed seltzer. Grace isn’t the thing you planned. It’s what you get instead.”
A lot is going on right now that I didn’t plan for, but thankfully, He is still in the midst of it all. The never-changing, steadfast, faithful, lover of my soul dishing out 40-minute conversations instead of rain. Weakness instead of strength. Change instead of complacency. Waiting instead of change. And beautiful roses laced with thorns. And together, His patient sovereign lips, and my floundering mustard seed faith call it good.
Pray:
Respond to God in prayer by speaking to Him about what stood out to you from this passage this morning.
Listen:
What is the Holy Spirit saying to you this morning?
Apply:
What are you going to do in response to what God is saying to you from the text and by the Spirit?