“Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” – Acts 3:6
The man had been crippled since birth. Every day someone placed him there so he could beg from those entering the temple courts. He wasn’t looking for healing – he was merely looking for something to make him a bit more comfortable in his pain.
Ouch.
I recently heard someone point this out and it really hit my heart. Had the man given up on receiving the true desire of his heart? I started thinking about some of the things I have been asking Jesus for lately. Good things. Important things. But not always the best and most important things. Not always the truest and deepest desires of my heart. Sometimes the “best” and “most important” things just seem too far out of reach.
Not that I haven’t asked before. Not that I haven’t prayed every prayer I know to pray and done everything I’ve know to do to move forward in faith. But it hasn’t always worked out so well. And that’s the problem – been there, done that, gone out on that limb one too many times. I wouldn’t even know where to begin again, let alone how. So I’ve been asking for smaller things. Simple things to make life a little more comfortable right here and now.
But I don’t want to settle for comfort in my pain – I want what’s best. I want ALL that Jesus’ sacrifice has purchased for me. As I started praying again and asking Jesus what I could “do” to ensure I didn’t settle for temporary comfort. He drew me back to the story in Acts 3. As I read the passage, I found a familiar answer.
The man didn’t do anything. He just kept showing up at the temple. And when Peter and John passed by, he looked up expecting to receive “something.”
I keep looking for something I can do. Jesus keeps reminding me of what he will do.
He is good. He doesn’t change. He is faithful. And he keeps his promises … even when you forget some of them because you’ve been waiting at that gate for a long time.
The man was no longer asking for his true desires, but God had’t forgotten him. All the man did was look up expecting to receive “something.”
I’m still waiting at the gate. I’m still looking up. The man got more than he bargained for … maybe I will too.
Cindy Powell 