Several days ago, one of my Focus classmates, Andrew, posted a picture on our Facebook page of his book bag. Amongst the thick, college volumes, was the blue, metal water bottle each of us was given upon our arrival at FLI. These water bottles were icons of our semester there; several always sat scattered across the classroom tables, or poked out of back packs, rolled around cars, and rested on kitchen counters. We were told throughout the semester of the dangers of dehydration, and were reminded on a daily basis that being in higher elevation led to quicker dehydration. We would joke among ourselves that a bottle of water would cure any aliment, chanting the phrase our professors said to us day after day: “drink more water.” Tired? Drink more water. Hungry? Drink more water. Confused? Drink more water. And on it went.
The caption that accompanied Andrews photo read, “Where’s yours?” Since that picture, several of us have snapped photos of our own water bottles, in prominent places in our rooms, work place, or daily lives, adding our own caption of “Where’s yours?” It’s been fun to see where people have chosen to place this reminder and how it coincides so well with each personality.
But looking at these pictures has got me thinking. How many other “Where’s yours?” type things should we keep in a prominent place, but instead we hide away, whether on accident or by choice. Things that deserve a place of high recognition and respect. Things that we should have out to remind us of the important things in life.
What about our faith? If someone were to come up to me and show me their faith, then ask me “where’s yours?” what would I tell them? What would my proverbial photo of my faith reveal? Would it be boldly displayed in a place of honor in my life, where it could be seen and witnessed by others? Or would it be hidden away in a dark box shoved deep under my bed, where it would be safe, but unseen?
I am proud of the condition of my FLI water bottle. If you were to see it, you would notice that it is covered in scratches, blue paint has been scraped off to reveal silver metal. Dents are scattered across the surface caused by the many times I’d dropped it. True, my bottle is not in prime condition, but that’s why I love it. I do not begrudge a single imperfection of that bottle, because each and every scratch and dent tells of the times I dropped it while I was hiking up a mountain, or exploring Pikes Peak, or climbing at Garden of the Gods. Those times when thirst consumed me, and I relied on the water inside the bottle to sustain me.
Ok, so maybe it wasn’t life or death experiences, but even so, I love the fact that my bottle has been covered with battle wounds, it tells the story of my time in Colorado.
But what about my faith? If someone could see my faith, would they see a faith covered in nicks and scratches? Bearing the results of intense battle and use? Or would they see a faith in pristine condition, glossy and smooth, shining perfection…and little used?
In Matthew, Jesus says,
“Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.”
When I was given my water bottle on that first day, I thought to myself, “Cool! I was needing one of these.” At this point I could have placed my brand new, shiny, blue bottle back in its box and tucked it under my bed. But that would be useless, and the bottle would be no good to me. Instead I used the bottle every day, dutifully following the orders to “drink more water.” I carried it with me literally everywhere I went, and even though it went through some difficult situations, it has been of good use to me.
I hope it is the same when it comes to my faith. I don’t want to “hide it under a bushel” no. I want to let it shine. Even if that means that it’s going to hurt, and even if that means that I’ll receive some battle wounds. I hope that in life, I will boldly display my faith for all to see, and that they would praise my Father in Heaven.
If asked “Where’s yours?” when it comes to my faith, I want to answer, “here it is” with confidence. This light of mine may be little, and it may be scratched and dented, but I’m gonna let it shine! And Soli Deo Gloria! (to God alone be the glory)
My water bottle, carabinered to my Cornerstone backpack, on the back of my car/home
