Use what you have

Just before last Christmas I found myself pondering the account in the Bible where Elisha visits the poor widow on the verge of having her sons taken away. When he asks her, “What hast thou in the house?” the woman replies that she has nothing but a pot of oil. Although the oil seemed to this woman to be a limited resource, it multiplies and fills many vessels. Elisha tells her to sell the oil to pay her debt, and this meets her needs and keeps her family together (see II Kings 4:1–7 ).

That idea—to use what you have—stayed with me. This idea doesn’t come from a fear of material lack, but from an understanding of spiritual abundance and purpose. With the realization that there is only good and that good comes from God, it follows that we always have whatever is needed—it just needs to be recognized.

This has been proved for me many times. Years ago a near relative passed on, owing a bank bill that could not be recovered legally. No one was responsible for paying it, but it came to me that it was morally right that it be paid. Knowing this, I couldn’t just say that the debt was not my concern. At that time my income was not large, but I had put aside a little now and then in a savings account. When it came to me to pay the bill myself, I looked at my bank book and saw that the amount I had saved was just enough to cover that outstanding debt—almost to the penny. It was proof to me then, and through the years since then this is what I’ve seen, that whatever is needed is already present.

It has become more and more apparent to me that divine Love does indeed meet every need, however large or small (see Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, p. 494 ). Sometimes it’s as simple as opening the pantry or refrigerator and finding something that’s just right for the next meal. A small thing perhaps, but to me it illustrates that the supply always matches the demand, regardless of the “size” of the demand. I have found that when simple needs are met, it brings as much joy and fulfillment as when so-called larger ones are taken care of.

I like the idea of using what you have instead of letting it go to waste. That doesn’t mean we should strive to manipulate or “ration out” material things to meet our needs, but it does mean that every object—whether it be money in a savings account or leftovers after a meal—can actually serve a divinely inspired purpose. I recall reading that Mary Baker Eddy’s mother, Abigail Baker, would not let her young child carelessly kick a kernel of corn aside, saying that it would make a little chick a meal (see Golden Memories, a reminiscence by Clara Shannon, The Mary Baker Eddy Library).

When simple needs are met, it brings as much joy and fulfillment as when so-called larger ones are resolved.

I recently had an opportunity to learn more about finding a purpose for what we have. When our family exchanged gifts this past Christmas, my heart sank when I opened one of my gifts—an organizational planner for the coming year. It was quite lovely and obviously not inexpensive. The gift was very thoughtful, but it was pretty much a duplicate of something I already had, not anything I could use two of, and it would expire at the end of 2013 so it couldn’t be saved for later.

My first thought was that perhaps someone else in the family would find the gift useful. I made a few inquiries, but couldn’t find a place for it.

So here was the dilemma: I’d been given a beautiful gift that would likely go to waste. As I wrestled with that thought, I heard myself say, “This is so disappointing.” That word startled me as I knew that disappointment assumes the lack or loss of something—the belief in something less than good. And since God is good and All-in-all, there is no place for any sense of loss or lack, hence no room for disappointment or concern that something so lovingly shared with me could be deprived of its purpose and value.

Then the idea I’d been pondering earlier came back to me: “Use what you have!” Even though this gift seemed impractical for me, I now saw that that thought could no longer be accepted. It had to be useful. Just because I couldn’t see how at the moment did not make it less true. I could trust that its purpose would be revealed. And if the answer was that I could use the gift in some unforeseen way, I would do so with joy. Actually, at that point, I was grateful to see that it had already been useful in elevating my thought above any suggestion of personal disappointment.

So I was at peace about the issue and waited to see what would unfold. I didn’t have to wait long. The next day I showed the gift to someone who had previously said she couldn’t use it and didn’t know of anyone who could. She hadn’t yet seen the planner when she’d said that. Once she saw it, though, she immediately changed her mind and said she could certainly use it.

What had seemed like an unwanted present turned out to be the best gift I could have received. It brought with it a renewed appreciation for using what you have and reminded me that there can be no disappointment in the allness of God, good.