We walked down the aisle full of binders, searching for just the right one to house my latest writings. “It needs to be a really nice one, since it will hold something so important to you,” my then-boyfriend urged. “Get the best one they have!”
And so I did. It was, after all, just a binder – a holder of papers – but for me, it would be a container of dreams, a treasure trove of my sweetest childhood memories put down on paper. In some ways (if you’ll allow me to be just a tad dramatic here), it would hold both my past and my future.
It was a lot to ask of a binder – even one of the nicer ones – but ask, I did. I bought it, took it home, and filled it with my musings and reflections, poring over them as I turned each glossy sleeve.
Life moved on from there. My then-boyfriend and I parted ways. I graduated from college. I moved back home. And that binder came with me, packed among my many boxes of books and school binders. Over the years, I would fill it with other writings, sometimes chucking the old ones altogether as new ideas took center stage.
Years later, when I got married, the binder came to rest in the closet of our office, where it sat for a few years, until I was playing with my little girl, and she needed something to organize the flannel pieces that went with her flannel board. It was then I found the binder, removed its contents (after all, I could now store all of my writings on a file on the computer and didn’t need the binder for that purpose), and used it to organize flannel princesses and princes and dragons and castles.
The binder was happy in its new location, among brightly colored toys and plush animals and board books. The playroom was easily the happiest room of the house, especially when little Kendall was in there, singing merrily (with reckless abandon) as she entertained herself with all of the wondrous objects that filled her shelves.
Time, though, moved along once again, and Kendall no longer played with her flannel pieces – or her other toys, for that matter. So we cleaned out the binder and the playroom. Repainted. Redecorated. And the playroom became Kendall’s studio, complete with desk and file drawers and more art supplies than you can imagine. Magnetic boards and plenty of places to hang or otherwise display her many creations.
And yes, the binder, now a bit weary, sat among Kendall’s sketchbooks and journals. A few of its pages were dusty and bent. It was an empty shell. This is how we found it this past weekend when we were looking for just such a binder. Kendall was working on a project where she needed to display pictures of her artwork, and when we pulled out that canvas bin and spotted this binder, my mother heart was filled with joy.
I will readily admit to being the type of person who gets way too excited when she finds just the right storage bin or organizer, or – yes, binder – that is perfect for the job. But this made me even happier than I would normally be because I sat there, straightening the page protectors and wiping the dust from it, with the realization that the binder that once held words that meant so much to me would now hold my daughter’s art – pieces of her heart, really, as my words are pieces of mine.
I realize that binder is merely an inanimate object, one of many. Nothing special. But when I chose that one from the office supply shelf, when I looked at all of the options and decided upon that one, it became special. When I filled it with stories of my childhood, it took on a meaning all its own.
And through the years, no matter what it held, it served as a faithful vessel, taking care of whatever we placed inside. Displaying words or flannel pieces and now, art. It’s 20 years old, which I guess is pretty old for a binder. But when Kendall needed a presentation binder, it was there.
And because I can be a bit sentimental and nostalgic from time to time, I was encouraged that an old binder can still be useful. A dusty vessel can still hold treasures. A binder that has had differing purposes over the years and then has sat on a shelf empty for a while can still be called upon to serve.
I love how 2 Timothy 2:15 urges us: Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth.
We desire to be useful, right? We want to be productive. So how do we do this? According to these verses, one way is to avoid irreverent babble . . . . flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, along with all who call on the Lord from a pure heart (v. 16, 22).
We read in verses 20-21: Now in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and silver but also of wood and clay, some for honorable use, some for dishonorable. Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work.
I had to do a little bit of work before my binder was ready for its next assignment. See, it had picked up some dust and hair over the years (those protective sheet covers are basically magnets for dirt). Some of the pages were a bit crumpled. It was down, but it was not out. It just needed a bit of elbow grease. A bit of cleanup work. And that weary vessel could become useful once again.
And the good news is that when we begin feeling like that old binder, like our best days are behind us, we aren’t quite as useful as we once were, we too can take inventory of where we may have gotten a bit dusty or crumpled. Where do we need an extra measure of God’s grace or strength or peace or joy or forgiveness in our lives? Some of us need to be reminded today that God offers us hope, a fresh start. He can fill us up and make us useful for His glory.
Romans 15:13 says: May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.
Not only do we have hope, but we also have purpose. Ephesians 2:8-10 reminds us: For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.
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