The Value of My Life

The me not tempered by hard taught self-control is angry and selfish. I serve with expectation; I give to receive. Why is no one else working? Why do I always get left with this mess?

But I account my life as of no value nor as precious to myself, if only I might finish the course and the ministry that I received from our Lord Jesus to testify to the gospel of the grace of God. Acts 20:24

Facing imprisonment and death and leaving friends, those Paul poured his very life into for years. My life means nothing; only God, only grace.

I repeat this verse as I scrub plates, late night grocery shopping, hardened dinner mess. My anger over the mess: me valuing my life, my time worth more than "their" dishes. The Spirit whispers, Let go the perceived value of your time. Honor me in this task. Seek me here.


My bitter heart melts. Mind stops counting the hours of work done without a thank you. I recall Gwennan in the car: Jesus come back in sky. Jesus come back any time. I want Jesus! and my soul sings.

Tim walked in last night, tired from a long meeting. The girls ran to him. I hesitated. He left clothes and gear and wood shavings scattered. More work for me. My precious time. I'm sad that I care more about my time than my time with him.

He stops weeding to scoop up a baby who has found the world's most interesting pinecone, again. His beard tickles, and she giggles. He's all about the relationship, I think. Everything else can wait. He snoozes on the floor with babies crawling on his chest. Anything to be available.

We are only moving shadows, and all our busy rushing ends in nothing. Psalm 39:6

My February prayer: consider my schedule as of no value nor as precious to myself, if only I might finish the course and the ministry given to me by Jesus - to speak the grace of God over my family every day, to build up my house in the Word of the Lord, to love without expectation. Amen.