Noble was harder to find than truth.
I have two pictures in my mind...one is noble-clean and holy in a world full of mud, integrity never wavering, never stopping to their level....
the other is noble-love covered in mud and blood and tears...bearing burdens, selling all it has in order to give, loving those who can't love back, serving those who least deserve...
Noble one of those words that I think I know until i must define it.
Dictionary.com had this to say about noble
1.distinguished by rank or title.
2.pertaining to persons so distinguished.
3.of, belonging to, or constituting a hereditary class that has special social or political status in a country or state; of or pertaining to the aristocracy.
4.of an exalted moral or mental character or excellence; lofty: a noble thought.
5.admirable in dignity of conception, manner of expression, execution, or composition: a noble poem.
6.very impressive or imposing in appearance; stately; magnificent: a noble monument.
7.of an admirably high quality; notably superior; excellent.
8.famous; illustrious; renowned.
Words like exalted moral character, distinguished, magnificent, superior, illustrious all put this noble just out of reach in my everyday life it seems. Both of my pictures are longings and yet seem other from the life I have lived so far.
but like always, when all hope seems lost Jesus reminds me
that he who would be first should be last, that she who would lead needs to serve,
it really is that simple.
A living for others...loving God and loving man in their rightful places is what He requires of me.
Then I realize,
Noble is a label given, not a label claimed.It comes when others who were loved and served look back and see the heart of God instead of human hands.
It comes when a world that is hurting recognizes something higher and holier reaching out to sooth and heal.
Noble is others recognizing divine work through human actions and not knowing what else to call it. This is the life I want...to be a jar of clay.
Linking up with Emily and other jars of clay at imperfect prose