“When Jesus rescued me from hell, he also rescued me to himself. I have been spared an eternity of the just punishment that I deserve and have been handed life forever with my Savior. He took that cup–filled to the brim with the wrath of God against sin–and he drank it to the dregs. Then he didn’t hand me back an empty cup (which itself would have been a mercy of unspeakable worth). The Bible says that my glass isn’t merely half full. Because of Jesus, our cup is filled to overflowing with God’s blessings (Ps. 23:5).”
—Treasuring Christ When Your Hands Are Full, by Gloria Furman, pg. 29
[I’m only one chapter into this book and I already love it.]
I’ve been meditating on that phrase from that beloved psalm: my cup overflows. I’m going to be real honest here. I’m in a really hard season. In the last six months almost everything I had as comfort to lean on and draw life from has been shaken. My best friend who lived right across the street moved four states away. I had a baby. (And an amazing, beautiful one at that. But no one said having a newborn was easy.) I had a really rough recovery that I still haven’t fully gotten through after said baby. Things with church have shifted and big changes are ahead. Even my marriage, the one thing I always presumed to be “untouchable.” Were working through something, and it is really, really hard. Having two children under two (though the man-child will be two in nineteen days. Hold me).
Even so. My cup overflows. God has been enchanting me with his love and the richness of his grace.
“Because of Jesus, all a Christian knows is grace upon grace.” (same book, page 32)
I’m starting to see that. Life isn’t easy. But God is good. And the most important part of my life–the soul, the state of my eternal security–it’s squared away in Jesus. My life is hidden in Him. So, all is grace. And my Father has deep, deep pockets of grace and mercy that He continues to lavish in His abundance. So, my cup overflows.
The baby still wakes up two to three times a night. I’m tired. And I try to take naps. Oh, I do. Most days, I put the baby down for a nap and then do the same for the toddler, after which my head hits the pillow. Sometimes this works. Some days, like today, the baby wakes up again after three minutes. I feed her, she falls right back asleep. All of a sudden I am awake and because I know myself I know that I will not be able to go back to sleep. So that three-minute power nap will have to get me through the rest of the day. Well, and a cup of coffee. The toddler is still sleeping so I decide to make it some quality alone and rest time. A cup of coffee and a book. One page in and I hear the toddler throwing books out of his crib (the first tell-tale sign that he’s awake).
As I write this he’s probably been awake for fifteen to twenty minutes. But he’s just talking and probably reading or something so I can linger a little longer.
Then I will get him, wrestle him down long enough to change his diaper, and then go about the rest of the day, no doubt with him practically attached to my hip. He’ll say “help?” a lot, but what he really means is “I want you to play with me.” I will laugh, I will want to cry, I will roll my eyes (and laugh some more) at his epic toddler tantrums. I will sing lots of Frozen. The baby will wake up in a little bit. And then it becomes a dance of keeping the toddler entertained and the baby safe from any sudden movements or outbursts from the toddler.
And then sometime in the four or five o clock hour (depending on the day) I’ll count down the minutes until Joey gets home.
This is my training grounds, the place I learn the gospel. This is where I give grace and receive lots and lots of grace. And I’m thankful. I’m thankful for where I’m at right now. Crazy unfinished house and all.
My cup overflows.