I Burnt Dinner and Realized my Hands Were Empty

A story from my first night with the girls:

 

We had arrived to the farm just an hour prior when we were told to go down to the house to get dinner. My friend, Emily, and I walked down having zero clue what we were getting ourselves into. 

 

As we came into the house, we were ushered into the kitchen and told to make dinner. Emily and I looked at each other with a confused and stressed look. Shay, the girls social worker, came over and told us that the girls would help us. Our nerves were slightly calmed and then ignited again when we realized our inability to communicate with them. The two oldest girls came in and the rest looked in from the kitchen window eagerly. All of them didn’t speak any English and we didn’t speak any Spanish. 

 

Through broken Spanish, confused looks and giggles, we were able to locate the bread and oil to make dinner. 

 

The night was spent with broken Spanish answering and asking questions like what our favorite color was or what our favorite animal is, all the essentials.

 

By the end, I had somehow managed to fry some bread and burn it in the process and boil some tea. They had gotten a good laugh at my Spanish while they braided my hair. 

 

It was stressful and confusing and silly. I realized very quickly that I truly have no qualification, skill or ability to help these girls. I don’t speak Spanish, I don’t have education on psychology, I don’t even really know how to cook! 

 

When I walk into that house of girls, I truly have nothing to offer them except a heart eager to serve. And being honest, that terrifies me. It gives me anxiety knowing that I have nothing to bring to the table. 

 

It’s a common misconception that bringing nothing to the table is equivalent to being worthless in a situation. 

 

But that’s not what Jesus says. 

 

In fact, Jesus says quite the opposite. He says that none of us bring anything to the table. Our works is not what obtains worth, value or righteousness. Our works are mere smudge in God’s mosaic of glory. 

 

Romans 9:16 says, “It does not, therefore, depend on human desire or effort, but on God’s mercy”. Paul is talking about how everything good and notable about our lives is a product of God’s mercy. 

 

I simply have nothing to bring, I come empty handed to the kingdom of God, but man, I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

 

It is because my hands are empty that people can look at product of my work and know that none of it is me, it is all God. 

 

I realized quickly that my empty hands were a beautiful thing. My anxiety of achievement fled knowing that I didn’t have to know things, I didn’t have to worry about my abilities, I didn’t even have to speak their language to be a vessel of light. 

 

Every time I go over to the house, I lift my empty hands and pray, asking the Lord that my presence will bring safety and comfort and love.

 

Then, I go over and giggle, speak broken Spanish, burn dinner and rejoice, empty handed. 

 

I praise Him for my inability, because through it, His glory is revealed. So I come to the altar, the drop all the things I hold on to so tightly and lift my empty hands high, for that is how the Kingdom is grown. 

 

I burnt dinner and realized that my hands were incredibly, inescapably and inevitably empty. I couldn’t be happier.