My daughter Lindsey has a compassionate heart. When she sees someone hurting or in need, she is quick to respond by doing something to try to make them feel better. Sometimes, she’ll bring them a toy she knows they like; other times, she’ll pat them, look very concerned, and say, “Poor Mommy,” or whoever the person is.
A couple weeks ago, my four kids and I were getting ready to go somewhere, and Kenny couldn’t find his jacket. “Where’s my Cars jacket?” he asked, obviously beginning to get upset.
“It’s at the Y,” Lindsey answered, remembering that we had left it there last time we visited.
“Now I’ll never have a jacket,” Kenny wailed.
I gave Kenny a hug and tried to help him calm down. Then, I realized Lindsey was entering the room holding one of her jackets.
“Here, Kenny,” she said, holding it out to him.
Kenny was not gracious in his response. “No!” he insisted, not wanting any jacket but his own.
“Aww, Kenny, she’s offering you her jacket,” I prompted, hoping for a kinder response.
“No!”
“Here, Kenny,” Lindsey repeated, holding out her size 3T jacket. (Kenny takes a 5T, or, at the very least, a 4T.)
“No!”
“It’s pretty!” Lindsey pleaded, holding the jacket out to him and sounding as if she were close to tears.
My heart broke for her at Kenny’s ingratitude, and I did my best to make it up to her. “Thank you so much for offering him your jacket,” I said kindly and gently. “That was really sweet. I guess Kenny is just going to go without a jacket right now. But thank you, darling.”
That seemed to work, enough for us to get going and for Lindsey to forget about the incident, at least as far as I could tell. But the rest of that day, and many times since, I have remembered the look on her face as she pleaded with him to accept her offering, and the anguish I felt on her behalf when her offering was refused.
You see, Lindsey wasn’t just offering Kenny her jacket.
She was offering him her heart.
Lindsey was showing her love and concern in the best way she knew how, only to have it rejected. Oh, Kenny, I thought, please see the magnitude of what your sister is offering you. Please take it.
But he didn’t. And it hurt her.
In a way, it’s the same with us and God. You and I have nothing to offer God that He really needs. He doesn’t need our jacket. He is completely sufficient in and of Himself. Everything we have came from Him, and is His, anyway.
But in a way, it’s very different. You see, God never rejects our offerings when they come from a heart of love.
Aren’t you deeply, profoundly desperately glad that when you bring something to Him, He doesn’t reject it because it’s not what He wants or needs? Even more, aren’t you glad that He sees the thoughts and intentions of our heart, and accepts those that come from love?
Our offerings may consist of nuking a jar of strained peas in the microwave, or reading the same bedtime story for the thousandth time, or ferrying yet another child to yet another activity. But if those actions are presented to God in love, He will accept them as a beautiful offering.
Thank your Father that He accepts you and your simple, childlike offerings. Thank Him that when you come to Him, He is ready to receive you.
More wonderful than that, He welcomes you. His heart of love responds to your heart of love, and He gathers you up in His arms.
“Thank you,” He whispers. “Thank you for the jacket.”
Psalm 51:17—The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.