The Jewelry Box She Emptied

In February 1874, the English hymn writer Frances Ridley Havergal penned the words that generations would sing: "Take my life and let it be, consecrated, Lord, to Thee." But Havergal did something most hymn writers never do — she meant every syllable literally.

Shortly after writing that hymn, she gathered nearly fifty pieces of fine jewelry — brooches, rings, a jewel cabinet — and shipped them to the Church Missionary Society. She kept only a brooch and a locket. To a friend, she wrote that she had never packed a box with such pleasure. The hymn's fourth verse had asked God to "take my silver and my gold, not a mite would I withhold," and Havergal decided those words demanded more than Sunday morning singing. They demanded Monday morning obedience.

What strikes me is the joy. She did not describe the giving as painful. She described it as the happiest packing she had ever done. That is what sacrifice looks like when it flows from genuine devotion rather than religious duty.

The Apostle Paul understood this. He counted everything as loss compared to knowing Christ — not with clenched teeth, but with the gladness of someone who had found the pearl of great price.

El Shaddai does not ask us to give so that we will be miserable. He asks us to give so that we will finally be free. True sacrifice is not losing something precious. It is discovering that the most precious thing was never in the jewelry box to begin with.