The Jewelry Box She Emptied With Joy

In February 1874, Frances Ridley Havergal sat up through the night at a friend's home in Worcestershire, England, praying for each person under that roof. By the visit's end, every soul had been touched. Overwhelmed, she wrote the words that would become one of the church's most enduring hymns: Take My Life and Let It Be.

But Havergal didn't stop at poetry. Shortly after penning the line "Take my silver and my gold, not a mite would I withhold," she gathered her jewelry — rings, brooches, ornamental pieces she had treasured for years — packed them into a box, and shipped them to the Church Missionary Society. In a letter accompanying the package, she wrote, "I never packed a box with such pleasure."

She kept only a few items too unfashionable to be of use to anyone else.

What strikes me about Havergal's story is not just the giving — it's the joy. She didn't surrender her treasures with clenched teeth and a heavy sigh. She packed that box with delight because the hymn she wrote had become something she had to live.

That's what real sacrifice looks like in the kingdom of God. It's not grim obligation. It's the natural overflow of a heart that has glimpsed how much the Almighty has already given. Paul put it plainly: "God loves a cheerful giver" (2 Corinthians 9:7). When we truly survey what Christ laid down for us, our own letting go starts to feel less like loss — and more like the best thing we ever packed into a box.