Emily, just be the jar.

It's much easier to just read it. Just gloss over it and move on. However, sometimes God's Spirit beckons in relentless pursuit with a divine drawing. He's drawing me into something that feels way bigger than me, way harder than I can handle, way different from how I am used to living.

I like my life. I like my family's way of doing things. It feels good. It feels like "home". But as often is the case with God, He likes to shake things up, do it different – and not just slightly different. His different reminds me of upside down and backwards to my understanding.

So I sit, bible open, with 2 Corinthians 4 not letting me go. I sit with phrases weaving in and out of my thinking the past few days as I wash dishes, drive to appointments, parent my kiddo, consider our future. Whispering in my mind are phrases like, "...always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies." The verses that follow that are echoing too: "We who live are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you."

It's been screaming at me in the book I am reading, woven into sermons or podcasts I have been listening to, and, ironically, I've rediscovered it in some verses I had taped to my wall. Yes, interestingly, I've read these verses before.

Actually, I've read them plenty of times, but never really thought about them. Ever since God radically changed my husband's and my heart a couple of years ago, everything reads different. Lots of scripture which read poetically and inspirational before has started to feel more... hm, applicable and shall we say instructional. (And by instructional, I mean explicitly clear what I am to do.)

I don't know how I rerouted the old testament precedent of life requiring death into sorting clothes for the needy and serving the occasional meal. I mean, gheez, there's, Jesus' death which produced life, the death of all the disciples - save one - for the expansion of the life-saving gospel, and the daily dying Paul seems to refer to frequently. There are so many who do sort clothes and are honoring Christ, doing it from a beautiful motivation of love; it's just that I simply wasn't. A couple of years ago, any interaction I had with those in true, deep needs in hard places somehow made me feel good about myself and my few minutes of service. There you go - you're welcome, World! (Cue that clanging cymbal from 1 Corinthians 13.)

Having said that, we have changed our lives in response to what God has spoken to us. We live less for ourselves than we ever did before, but self still exists. Don't misunderstand me. I'm not trying to persuade myself that I shouldn't take time to myself or rest with my family – absolutely not. However, I am putting my current wonderings into print: Am I giving my best to God?

The question that caused Brad and I to sell our home and move into town (from all Christian neighbors to a place where I have yet to find more than one) was: How do we give Jesus more? That question burned in our hearts and minds as we worked and slept and ate until we could work and sleep and eat no longer in that particular place – because, for us, giving Jesus more meant being in a different place. It meant leaving the house we had known, loved, remodeled, repainted, loved our baby, hosted parties, hugged precious neighbors, and, by the way, had a small garden with a compost bin and everything. I think maybe it was because that in it we had blocked out some of the most needy in our community. It meant coming to a small apartment surrounded by people who don't know Jesus and sometimes want very little to do with us. I am not touting our move and commending myself to you as some great Jesus follower. Because anew, He is drawing me to His Word and suggesting surrender. Basically showing me that not only do I not have it all together, but any little shred of "together" I seem to hold is really just Him shinning out of this jar of clay. (And we're back to 2 Corinthians 4.)

The invitation seems to be the surrender of dying in order to bring life. Paul's life models this truth - that in the laying down of my life, maybe God would give life to somebody else.

As my family moves into a new season of rearranging our lives to love others (and consequently Jesus) better, I'm a little scared. Some of the things we are moving towards are out of my comfort zone. But, what a sweet reminder of my great need of Him. Sometimes, believe it or not, I think I can do it on my own. O, I would never say that. I've got enough scripture memorized to know that I can't say that.... but I do it with my life without conscience thought. This next season in our lives, this invitation into the bigger, harder, different life than ours from Jesus is an invitation to not do it on my own, but trust completely and die daily. Just to be the jar.