To pour is to rain. To send liquid falling; propelling really. To pour is to move and fill and flow and be refilled. Every year should be a year of pouring. A year of seeing cups overflow and relationships filled. Every year should be a year of pouring into those who are empty and being filled with more of Jesus because His water jars are always full.
Pour. I love the word and I love what it can do.
I love the sound of coffee pouring in a cup and I love the sound of rain pouring on a roof. I love that the Lord pours out who He is in ways that make a grown up squeal like a kid on Christmas morning. I love learning and that I get the opportunity to pour into kids who are both eager to learn and equally eager to pour into me.
I love to pour and I love to be poured into.
So each week of this year I have been challenged to recognize the pouring in all capacities because I too often miss it. I miss the moments when Jesus knocks on the door to fill my cup and the moments when He passes by asking me to pour out into other cups. Sometimes I walk too fast and talk too fast that what I pour out isn’t all that good. And sometimes I breathe too little and only open my door a little and what needs to be poured in is left with no space and no welcome.
Pour. To pour is to move and fill and flow and be refilled.
It’s easy to say pouring is hard but we are poured on every day. We are poured on when a friend remembers your favorite ‘coffee shop drink’ and delivers it to you (thanks Rasika!). We are poured on when we wake up to kind words and laughter. We are poured on when we are invited in and loved and open. We are poured on when we pour out and we are poured on when we allow God to pour in.
I wonder how different the world would be if we poured the good kind of stuff more. The kind of stuff Jesus poured. You know, the kind of pouring that heals and gives and changes not just life, but lives. I want to pour like that. Because to pour is to move and fill and flow and be refilled.