What Church has to Offer ...

Wellspring Church of Skippack! That's our church's name ...

What would it look like to live up to our name? Let me think. We would probably be …
Reviving—quenching dry, thirsty souls.
Healing—soothing people’s wounds.
Refreshing—cooling hot tempers & sorry attitudes.
Invigorating—restoring drained & sapped spirits.
Delighting—rejuvenating a spirit of joyful playfulness.

But, you know what? Thank God WE do NOT have to live up to such a name! No, really we don’t!

But God does! He is the one that must accomplish these things among us, if we but let Him. (I suppose that’s a big if, letting Him, that is.)

That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To let Him do HIS work IN us? And boy, don’t we need the work!

And so, we, the people of Wellspring, have nothing to offer, for we are not dong the offering. God is. That certainly takes a load off our shoulders. Doesn’t it?

Okay, on the other hand, we are offering God. Yes, that’s it! That’s what we have to offer. It’s HIM. His love for us, His grace, peace, truth, care, Spirit upon us, mercy, forgiveness, salvation, HIM!

He is doing something to us, in us, among us, and through us. Isn’t that something? What a wonderful God!

We offer nothing and should never pretend to offer anything but God in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit. Really, God is doing all the offering. We are only here to receive it and invite others to join us in the receiving of it.

But that means we must be open ourselves to what God is offering. Yes, we want it ourselves, certainly not just for ourselves, but we ourselves do want and need it ourselves. We cannot share what we ourselves do not have to share.

What then are we sharing—giving, providing, promoting here? HIM, that’s all. His love, our gratefulness, His grace, our gratitude, His mercy, our appreciation, His call, our heedfulness, His will, our obedience, His purpose, our submission, His Glory, our gain!

Wandering Thoughts ...
Three boys were bragging about their dads.

“My dad writes a few lines, calls it a poem and gets fifty bucks for it,” said the first.

“My dad puts some dots, lines, and squiggles on paper, calls it a song and gets seventy-five for it,” said the second.

“That’s nothing,” said the third boy, “Saturday nights my dad writes a few words on a sheet of paper, gets up Sunday morning, reads it in church, and it takes four ushers to bring in the money.”
[Taken from one of those email list of jokes that go round and round the cyber world.]