I keep looking at what's left and it's not enough. Not for this month, not for anything.

She gave from the little she had first, and the jar didn't run dry. Provision met her in the act of trusting, not before it — it rarely feels like enough right before it becomes enough.

The conversation

The child: “Daddy God, I keep looking at what's left and it's not enough. Not for this month, not for anything.”

God: “I've seen the bottom of that jar too.”

The child: “Then You know it's basically nothing.”

God: “There was a widow who thought the exact same thing. She had one handful of flour and a little oil — enough for one last meal before she expected to starve.”

The child: “That's terrifying. What did she do with it?”

God: “She gave it away first. Made a small cake for a stranger who asked, before making anything for herself.”

The child: “Why would she do that with the very last of it?”

God: “Because I asked her to. And the jar of flour didn't run dry. Not once, for as long as she needed it.”

God: “Provision met her in the act of trusting, not before it.”

The child: “So I'm not supposed to wait until I have enough before I trust You with it?”

God: “You give from what you have now. I'll be the one deciding when the jar runs empty — and I haven't decided that yet.”

The child: “It still feels like it's not enough.”

God: “It rarely feels like enough right before it becomes enough. That's usually exactly where I show up.”

The child: “Okay. I'll bring what's actually in the jar.”

God: “That's all I've ever needed from anyone.”

"And the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail, according to the word of the LORD, which he spake by Elijah." 1 Kings 17:16, KJV

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