Empty Cups: Serving from Our Scarcity

Sunday mornings at our house can be . . . lively (see also: Chaotic. Rushed. Tiring). My husband is a worship leader and typically leaves early, so most weeks consist of me scrambling to get three kiddos dressed and fed and out the door and spending a significant amount of time searching for socks. (Why are there never any socks?!) 

I’m not alone. The church morning challenge unites mothers across time and place—a thing we often talk about in a commiserating, it-is-what-it-is kind of way.

Many churches seek to respond compassionately by limiting their “asks” of young moms. After all, we are exhausted and overwhelmed, and many moms (especially those who are unchurched or new to the faith) are blessed by the invitation to simply show up with the kids on Sundays. But it’s also possible to take this “frazzled mother” identity too much to heart. When we assume that we can’t serve the church in the little years, we just might miss an opportunity to experience the power and generosity of the Father . . . and leave our churches lacking some vital resources and gifts.

But in this season of mothering that seems to require so much of us, how can we give even more? We’ve all heard it said: You can’t pour from an empty cup. And at the end of most days, I feel pretty poured out (you, too?). So, how can we offer what we don’t seem to possess?  

Let’s consider two scenes from early in Jesus’s ministry. The first is found in John 2, before Jesus had really made himself known, healed anyone, or gained a following. We see him attending a wedding, in which the bride and groom run out of wine to serve their guests. Jesus gives people a first glimpse of his power by turning jugs of water into wine. And not just any wine—wine that was finer than what they’d been serving just moments before. What a strange way for Jesus to make his debut! 

A few chapters later, Jesus has racked up quite the following through his teachings and miracles. He’s surrounded by a hungry crowd, all of them running on empty. All of them except a single boy with a lunchbox, the contents of which Jesus multiplies into enough to fill five thousand hungry bellies. 

Compared to Jesus healing the blind, casting out demons, and raising the dead, these two stories can seem a bit insignificant. But they show us something important about what happens when the presence of Christ becomes more important than what we lack. 

Turns out, with Jesus, we actually can pour from empty cups. And what pours out is even sweeter and finer and more abundant than anything we could have produced on our own. 

It’s easy to let the overwhelming, all-encompassing nature of the little years limit our sight to the things we lack: time, energy, resources. But what would happen if we called ourselves and the mothers we know to a focus that’s higher and a commitment to serve, even out of our own scarcity? This is an act of trust and an exercise in depending on God’s provision. And when we step out onto that ledge with prayer and wisdom, he meets us there in four key ways:

1. Serving out of weakness allows us to see God’s strength and abundance firsthand.

When we trust God to multiply our meager offerings of service and then watch him sustain us and use us, we get a front-row seat to his power being made perfect in our weakness.[1] Unable to take credit or boast in our own abilities, we are drawn to humility and others are drawn to praise the Father (and not us), spurred on to give him what little they have too. 

2. Serving shifts our attention away from what we aren’t and onto who God is.

By choosing to let God’s abundance—not our emptiness—dictate our decisions and commitment to his body, we lift our eyes away from our own circumstances and onto him. And anytime we bring him into greater focus, our hearts are able to respond with greater worship. To see God is to love him, and serving out of his provision helps us do both more. 

3. Serving is an act of discipleship in and of itself.

As mothers, teaching our kids well is always at the forefront of our minds. We want to be good stewards of their hearts, and so we seek out the best books and resources for helping them know God and understand who he’s called them to be. This is also one of the reasons we commonly give for not serving the church; we desire to focus on discipling our kids instead. Ironically, though, our service can be one of the best ways to lead our sons and daughters. When they bear witness to us helping out on Sunday mornings or opening our homes for small groups or using our God-given gifts and skills to further the kingdom, our words grow hands and feet. Our kids gain a more complete, real-life picture of what it means to not just be a disciple of us but a disciple of Christ. 

4. Serving the church energizes us to be better, more purposeful servants at home.

I lead a small group Bible study for middle schoolers once a week and can’t tell you how many times I walk in feeling completely depleted and unenthusiastic. But somewhere between playing silly games and hearing thirteen-year-olds read Scripture together, something happens: My strength is renewed. In my service, I am served with energy and new excitement for God’s Word and his people. And when I return back to my own home, that energy goes with me. This is a picture of the Spirit at work—that, through our sacrifice, he would gift us even more than we give.   

In the throes of changing diapers, tying shoes, and settling sibling spats, it can be so easy to forget that we have gifts and skills that extend beyond our motherhood. Of course, the little ones who have been entrusted to us are our closest, most important disciples. But our role as their mothers doesn’t mean we automatically shrug off the responsibility we also have to those who call us sisters in Christ. 

Serving others from our scarcity doesn’t mean always pushing through without a break, running ourselves ragged, or neglecting our God-designed limits. After all, rest is crucial and commanded, all throughout Scripture. And it’s not about serving out of an obligation or a sense of guilt over not doing enough. We’ve already been told that our hope is secure by nothing we’ve done and have been called out of the life of guilt and shame we once lived; let us not return there. Rather, may the truth of Christ’s provision become real in our hearts and minds, hands and feet, just as it did for his first followers all those years ago. God doesn’t need us; his mission will succeed with or without our help. But we are part of his church, tasked with readying ourselves and others for his return. And what better way to do that than pouring out from a place that appeared empty, made full by a Savior? 

Remember the wine. Remember the full bellies. Even when we have nothing left, the Spirit is always abundant. More than enough. May we praise him with empty cups held high, for it’s here his fullness is made known, to us and all the world. 

[1] 2 Corinthians 12:9