Welcome to Christ’s Community Church. Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers and mother figures joining us! To the spiritual mothers, adoptive and foster mothers, and every woman who has poured love and care into the life of another, we honor your strength, your love, and your quiet sacrifices.

Today, we continue our series, “How Sweet the Sound,” reflecting on the timeless hymn, Amazing Grace, a song that reminds us that grace is not only for salvation but also for daily strength through every trial.

Our message today is titled “Grace for What is Left,” because life can feel overwhelming, especially when your hands are full and you're on your last nerve. In fact, some of you may have walked in today wondering, “How can I have faith for tomorrow when I'm barely making it through today?" So, if that describes you, I believe God has a word for you—a word of hope, strength, and grace—to remind you that even when you feel empty, God can use what you have left.

Today, we’re going to explore the story of a woman in scripture whose hands are full, burdened by life, yet God met her with a miracle right in the midst of her struggle. As we open our hearts to what the Spirit of God is saying to the church, let’s turn to 1 Kings 17:8-16 in anticipation of God meeting us this morning. I pray this story will bring encouragement to every mother, grandmother, and woman standing in the gap for her family.

The Bible says, in verse 8,

“Then the word of the Lord came to him: “Go at once to Zarephath of Sidon and stay there. I have commanded a widow in that place to supply you with food” (1 Kings 17:8–9).

“So he went to Zarephath. When he came to the town gate, a widow was there gathering sticks. He called to her and asked, “Would you bring me a little water in a jar so I may have a drink?” As she was going to get it, he called, “And bring me, please, a piece of bread” (1 Kings 17:10–11).

“As surely as the Lord your God lives,” she replied, “I don’t have any bread—only a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a jug. I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it—and die” (1 Kings 17:12).

“Elijah said to her, “Don’t be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small cake of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your son. For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord gives rain on the land’” (1 Kings 17:13–14).

“She went away and did as Elijah had told her. So there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family. The jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the Lord spoken by Elijah” (1 Kings 17:15–16).

I wonder if anyone here has ever experienced a season where what you thought was the promised blessing didn’t seem or feel any better than the problem you just came through. You push through the struggle, you survive the difficult season, but when you finally reach what you believe is the blessing, it doesn’t feel like a blessing at all. The provision didn’t feel like provision, and the promise felt just as burdensome as the problem.

Well, that’s where Elijah finds himself in this story, but today I don’t want to concentrate on Elijah; I want to focus our attention on the widow of Zarephath.

This nameless woman lived in the midst of a famine, with no food or supplies, and daily life had been turned upside down. However, the famine didn’t occur on its own; it resulted from a drought, so without the drought, there would have been no famine.

It’s similar to what we are experiencing today: without COVID-19 and the past four years, we wouldn’t be facing the economic struggles that have ensued. One problem triggers another, and you can’t address the famine without first dealing with the drought.

This woman had survived the drought but was watching as her world slowly fell apart: her livestock grew weak, her crops failed, the river dried up, and her neighbors buried their dead. Eventually, the crisis reached her own home; she became widowed as death took her husband, and the troubles she once observed from a distance moved inside her own house.

Any woman will tell you not to mess with her home, her family, or her space. But for this woman, the crisis invaded her kitchen, her dining table, and her future. When trouble shifts from “them” to "me," something deeply personal occurs. It’s one thing to witness a crisis unfold across the world or even in your town, but when it strikes your own home, your family, and your identity, it transforms into an entirely different kind of battle.

This widow watched neighbor after neighbor fall, seeing the marketplace close, the gardens wither, and her cupboards run empty. Little by little, everything she once depended on slipped away. Yet here’s what’s remarkable: she was still standing. This was a resilient woman who had already defied the odds just by surviving. The famine was so severe that even the prophet Elijah was on the run, and yet she remained. But it wasn’t just her supplies that were running out; her hope was fading too. Her strength was drained, her joy was gone, and it had been a long time since she had laughed.

She once had a name, a reputation, and a story, but now she is known only by what she has lost. The Bible doesn’t tell us her name; all we know about her is her condition. She is called “the widow,” and maybe you can relate to her. Perhaps you have been labeled by your situation: the single mom, the unemployed one, the person going through a divorce, the one who is sick or struggling. But here’s the beauty of this story: God saw her and sent provision, not because of what she had lost, but because of what she still had left.

I want to take a moment to speak directly to the women, mothers, and our sisters in Christ who are listening today. Some of you can hardly remember a time when your hands weren’t full. You are constantly having someone tug at your skirt, being pulled in every direction by people needing you here and there, and you are always working to hold everything together.

When we encounter this widow in Scripture, we find her busy gathering sticks, her hands already full. It makes me wonder who she could have been if she weren’t struggling with this twisted fate. You have to wonder what she might have accomplished, what she could have created, or how she might have flourished if she weren’t weighed down and stuck in survival mode. But the truth is, life doesn’t always grant us the freedom to pursue our dreams; sometimes we simply have to do what we can to keep going.

Elijah approaches her at the town gate, where she is bent over, busy gathering sticks. She is not resting or taking a break; she is working. It isn’t just the famine keeping her busy; it’s the drought that caused the famine in the first place.

Some of you can relate to that today because we're uncertain whether to concentrate on finding another source of income, altering our lifestyle to prevent a health crisis, or shifting our focus from outside the house to inside it, as one problem leads to another and everything feels interconnected.

This widow endured challenges both externally and internally. She lost not only her crops and income but also her peace and joy. She witnessed her world crumble, buried her husband, saw her neighbors vanish, and observed the market and food supply collapse; yet through it all, she continued to move forward.

She had been strong for so long that it’s easy to forget she was still grieving a tremendous loss. She hadn’t just lost resources; she had lost her husband, lost her sense of normalcy, and when we lose our sense of normalcy, it shakes us to the core.

Elijah found this widow gathering sticks, holding tightly to what little she had left, doing what she could to survive. And when Elijah asked her for water, she didn’t hesitate or turn him away. Even in her exhaustion and grief, she stepped beyond her own suffering to help a stranger. It is in this quiet, selfless moment, when she chose to give even from her lack, that the door to the miracle began to open.

You see, your miracle often begins when you step out of your own pain to help someone else. She could have said no, she could have turned her back, she could have insisted, 'Don’t ask me, I’m struggling too.' But she didn’t. She paused and offered water, and just as she was about to get it, Elijah asked for something else; he said, 'Please get me a piece of bread.'

That was the moment when her strength cracked, and she poured out her heart, saying,

“I don’t have any bread. I only have a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a jug. I was gathering sticks to make a meal for me and my son so we can eat it—and die” (1 Kings 17:12).

In that honest confession, we hear the depth of her fear, her exhaustion, and her sense of finality — a woman at the very edge, with nothing left but one last meal and the ache of letting go.

She knew exactly what she had left; she wasn’t just making a meal — she was preparing for the end. Imagine how discouraged she had to be. She wasn’t thinking about tomorrow or making plans for the future; she was simply getting ready to die. She had run out of hope, out of options, and felt out of time. But while she had accepted that this was the end, God was already at work, ready to step in and change her story.

But here’s what’s truly powerful: even though her hands were nearly empty, she still had something left — and that’s where grace for what is left comes in. It wasn’t much by human standards, just a small remnant of provision, but in God’s hands, it was more than enough to spark a miracle and transform her story.

Here is what happened next. The Bible says that Elijah told her,

“Don’t be afraid. Go home and do as you said. But first, make a small loaf of bread for me, then make something for yourself and your son. For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the land’” (1 Kings 17:13–14).

In that moment, God invited her to trust Him with what little she had left, and that trust opened the door for His grace to pour into her life.

You see, nearly every miracle in the Bible starts with something already in someone’s hands: a jar of oil, a handful of flour, two fish and five loaves, a shepherd’s staff, or the jawbone of a donkey. It’s important to understand this because the enemy loves to whisper, “You have nothing left. Nothing to contribute. You're finished.” But that’s a lie. God works through what you still have. The widow may have thought her possessions were small and insufficient, but in God’s eyes, it was exactly what He would use to bring her breakthrough.

Regardless of her feelings, she chose to obey the man of God; she took a step of faith that defied logic and made the small loaf for Elijah first, just as he asked. She acted not because she understood how it would all work out but because she trusted the word of God spoken through the prophet. And the Bible tells us:

“The jar of flour was not used up, and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the Lord spoken by Elijah” (1 Kings 17:16).

I want you to notice something powerful here: it doesn’t say the jar overflowed or that she was suddenly swimming in the abundance of God. It simply says it never ran out. Day after day, meal after meal, God’s grace sustained her with just enough for what was needed.

Some of you have been waiting for the overflow before you start praising God, but what if you begin thanking Him right now simply because you haven’t run out? You have faced trials, yet you’re still here. You have endured loss, but you still have breath in your lungs. You have walked through dark valleys, yet you are still standing today. That is the true sign and testimony that God is at work in your life. It’s not that you have an abundance spilling over, but that His grace has sustained you day by day, keeping you from running dry with what you have left.

The famine dragged on, the drought continued, but every day when the widow reached into that jar, there was still enough. Every time she poured the oil, it was still flowing. And the Bible says,

“So, there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family” (1 Kings 17:15).

By the time the famine finally came to an end, she was still standing, sustained not by abundance, but by the steady, unfailing grace of God.

Here’s what’s so important: throughout every part of this story, the widow kept her hands full. First, she gathered sticks. Then, she brought water. Finally, she held onto the little flour and oil she had. She never let her hands stay empty — she kept moving, kept doing what she could, and in that place of faithful action, God met her with provision.

That’s a message for us today: don’t let this season empty your hands, because there is grace for what is left. Keep something moving, keep something stirring, and keep your spirit engaged — because even in small acts of faith, God is ready to work.

It may not seem like much, but keep something in the jar. It could be a small task, a quiet act of faith, or a simple prayer — but keep your hands full. Don’t give in to defeat, and don’t let discouragement drain you. Get up, steady yourself, and keep moving forward, trusting that God can do great things with even the little you have left.

As we bring this message to a close, I want to speak straight to every mother, grandmother, spiritual mother, adoptive mother, foster mother, church mother, and every woman standing in the gap for someone else. Hear this clearly: you may be tired, you may feel stretched to your limit, and you may feel like you’ve poured out all you have — but you still have something left, and God’s grace is ready to meet you right there.

You are not here by accident. You are not still standing today because life has been easy or free of trouble — you are standing because, through every trial and setback, God has been the one holding you up and sustaining you.

Thank you, mothers, for keeping your hands full. Thank you for refusing to give up, for praying when no one was watching, for showing up when you were exhausted, and for believing in your family even when they let you down. Your faithfulness has mattered more than you know.

You may have raised your voice, but you never let go. You may have fussed, but you never walked away. You stayed, you loved, and you kept your hands full. That’s why you’re still here today. That’s why your family is still standing. That’s why God is still at work in your home. Because the miracle isn’t found in what you’ve lost — the miracle is in what you have left.

To everyone listening today, and to everyone who has been shaped by the love of a mother, take another look at what’s in your hands. What you have left is enough for God to bless. What you have left is enough for God to multiply and turn into something greater than you could imagine.

As we close, I want to give you the opportunity to surrender your life to Jesus, the One who can take what you have left and turn it into more than enough, filling your life with purpose, hope, and grace beyond what you could ever imagine.

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen” (Ephesians 3:20-21).

Graphics, notes, and commentary from LifeChurch, Ministry Pass, PC Study Bible, Preaching Library, and Sermon Central. Scripture from the New International Version unless otherwise noted.