Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The dark night of the soul
Luke 10. 19: I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.
Our Lord Jesus said this to the seventy: and yet we know that all down the ages His servants have been hurt in a thousand ways. So the words must mean, and we know they do mean, something that goes far deeper than bodily hurt, deeper even than disappointment--that hardest hurt the mind can be asked to bear.
It must mean that our spirits shall tread on serpents and scorpions, and have power over all the enemy. Nothing shall be able to sting our spirit, poison it, or paralyse it. It is one of the magnificent promises of the Bible. We cannot take it too literally. There is no need to be overcome, whatever happens. "O my soul, thou hast trodden down strength." (Judges 5. 21)
Sometimes we do not feel in the least like treading down scorpions and serpents and all the power of the enemy. Perhaps we are allowed to feel our nothingness, so that we may in the depths of our heart understand those other words "Without Me ye can do nothing." (John 15. 5) I think there was something of this in our Lord Jesus' mind, when He told the story of one who had nothing to set before his friend--not a crumb--and it was midnight. (Luke 11. 5-8) When we do not feel victorious and have nothing to give others, it is in truth "midnight" in our soul, "the dark night of the soul", old writers called it.
But we have a God to Whom we can go at any minute, the weakest minute, the darkest minute, "at midnight". "Be Thou my strong habitation, whereunto I may continually resort: Thou hast given commandment to save me; for Thou art my Rock and my Fortress." (Psa. 71. 3) --Edges of His Ways, Amy Carmichael
Our Lord Jesus said this to the seventy: and yet we know that all down the ages His servants have been hurt in a thousand ways. So the words must mean, and we know they do mean, something that goes far deeper than bodily hurt, deeper even than disappointment--that hardest hurt the mind can be asked to bear.
It must mean that our spirits shall tread on serpents and scorpions, and have power over all the enemy. Nothing shall be able to sting our spirit, poison it, or paralyse it. It is one of the magnificent promises of the Bible. We cannot take it too literally. There is no need to be overcome, whatever happens. "O my soul, thou hast trodden down strength." (Judges 5. 21)
Sometimes we do not feel in the least like treading down scorpions and serpents and all the power of the enemy. Perhaps we are allowed to feel our nothingness, so that we may in the depths of our heart understand those other words "Without Me ye can do nothing." (John 15. 5) I think there was something of this in our Lord Jesus' mind, when He told the story of one who had nothing to set before his friend--not a crumb--and it was midnight. (Luke 11. 5-8) When we do not feel victorious and have nothing to give others, it is in truth "midnight" in our soul, "the dark night of the soul", old writers called it.
But we have a God to Whom we can go at any minute, the weakest minute, the darkest minute, "at midnight". "Be Thou my strong habitation, whereunto I may continually resort: Thou hast given commandment to save me; for Thou art my Rock and my Fortress." (Psa. 71. 3) --Edges of His Ways, Amy Carmichael
Monday, July 20, 2009
We're not worthy! We're not worthy!
Rom. 8. 18: Not worthy to be compared.
Settle this in your minds so that you will not have to settle it again; there is no promise of ease for any soldier on any field. Search the New Testament; you will not find one such promise. It is made quite clear that things are not going to be made easy. So to be surprised and troubled when they are difficult is foolish and unreasonable too. Why is there so much inward stress, sometimes sharp trial, or what the New Testament calls Tribulation? We are not told; but we are told that there will be this sort of thing, and that it is "not worthy to be compared with the glory"--not worthy to be compared. --Edges, Amy Carmichael
Settle this in your minds so that you will not have to settle it again; there is no promise of ease for any soldier on any field. Search the New Testament; you will not find one such promise. It is made quite clear that things are not going to be made easy. So to be surprised and troubled when they are difficult is foolish and unreasonable too. Why is there so much inward stress, sometimes sharp trial, or what the New Testament calls Tribulation? We are not told; but we are told that there will be this sort of thing, and that it is "not worthy to be compared with the glory"--not worthy to be compared. --Edges, Amy Carmichael
Thursday, July 9, 2009
The price to pay for the privilege
Many of us cannot be used to become food for the world's hunger until we are broken in Christ's hands. "Bread corn is bruised." Christ's blessing ofttimes means sorrow, but even sorrow is not too great a price to pay for the privilege of touching other lives with benediction. The sweetest things in this world today have come to us through tears and pain.--J. R. Miller
God has made me bread for His elect, and if it be needful that the bread must be ground in the teeth of the lion to feed His children, blessed be the name of the Lord.--Ignatius
God has made me bread for His elect, and if it be needful that the bread must be ground in the teeth of the lion to feed His children, blessed be the name of the Lord.--Ignatius
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Are we willing?
Exod. 27. 20: Pure olive oil beaten for the light, to cause the lamp to burn always.
If the oil is to feed a lamp so that it burns continually, it must be pure. In how many ways the question is brought home to us! Are we willing for whatever is required for purification? Have we any mental reserve?
"Try me, O God, and seek the ground of my heart: prove me, and examine my thoughts." (Psa. 139. 23 P.B.V.)
--Edges of His Ways, Amy Carmichael
If the oil is to feed a lamp so that it burns continually, it must be pure. In how many ways the question is brought home to us! Are we willing for whatever is required for purification? Have we any mental reserve?
"Try me, O God, and seek the ground of my heart: prove me, and examine my thoughts." (Psa. 139. 23 P.B.V.)
--Edges of His Ways, Amy Carmichael
Friday, July 3, 2009
Faith is the steel of the soul
Unexpected answers
God counts on us to accept whatever answer to our prayers He gives us, whether or not it be the answer that we wished and expected (See Rom. 15. 30-32). When Paul wrote to the Christians of Rome, he asked for the kind of prayer that is like wrestling with a strong (though unseen) enemy. He asked for prayer for three things, that his service (the offering of alms) might be acceptable to the Jewish Christians; that he might be delivered from the Jews who did not believe; that he might come to them--the Christians of Rome--with joy. The answer to the second of these three prayers was two years in a prison in Caesarea; the answer to the third was two years' imprisonment in Rome. In both cases his was the kind of imprisonment which required the prisoner's right hand to be chained to a soldier's left.
Not many of us love to be under a roof between walls, without being able to go out into the open air. Think what it must have meant to Paul to be not only indoors but never once alone. Think of being chained to a Roman soldier at all hours of the day and night. "That I may come unto you with joy by the will of God, and may with you be refreshed" (Rom. 15. 32). There was not much natural joy and refreshment in coming as a chained prisoner.
Nothing was explained. Paul and the men and women of Rome were trusted to accept the unexplained and, like John the Baptist, not to be offended in their Lord.
Do you not think that a great deal of what we call faith is not worth the name? It is too flimsy to be called by so strong a word. Faith is the steel of the soul.--Edges of His Ways, Amy Carmichael
God counts on us to accept whatever answer to our prayers He gives us, whether or not it be the answer that we wished and expected (See Rom. 15. 30-32). When Paul wrote to the Christians of Rome, he asked for the kind of prayer that is like wrestling with a strong (though unseen) enemy. He asked for prayer for three things, that his service (the offering of alms) might be acceptable to the Jewish Christians; that he might be delivered from the Jews who did not believe; that he might come to them--the Christians of Rome--with joy. The answer to the second of these three prayers was two years in a prison in Caesarea; the answer to the third was two years' imprisonment in Rome. In both cases his was the kind of imprisonment which required the prisoner's right hand to be chained to a soldier's left.
Not many of us love to be under a roof between walls, without being able to go out into the open air. Think what it must have meant to Paul to be not only indoors but never once alone. Think of being chained to a Roman soldier at all hours of the day and night. "That I may come unto you with joy by the will of God, and may with you be refreshed" (Rom. 15. 32). There was not much natural joy and refreshment in coming as a chained prisoner.
Nothing was explained. Paul and the men and women of Rome were trusted to accept the unexplained and, like John the Baptist, not to be offended in their Lord.
Do you not think that a great deal of what we call faith is not worth the name? It is too flimsy to be called by so strong a word. Faith is the steel of the soul.--Edges of His Ways, Amy Carmichael
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Blessing unthought of
“The hand of the Lord hath wrought this.” (Job 12:9).
Several years ago there was found in an African mine the most magnificent diamond in the world’s history. It was presented to the King of England to blaze in his crown of state. The King sent it to Amsterdam to be cut. It was put into the hands of an expert lapidary. And what do you suppose he did with it?
He took the gem of priceless value, and cut a notch in it. Then he struck it a hard blow with his instrument, and lo! the superb jewel lay in his hand cleft in twain. What recklessness! what wastefulness! what criminal carelessness!
Not so. For days and weeks that blow had been studied and planned. Drawings and models had been made of the gem. Its quality, its defects, its lines of cleavage had all been studied with minutest care. The man to whom it was committed was one of the most skillful lapidaries in the world.
Do you say that blow was a mistake? Nay. It was the climax of the lapidary’s skill. When he struck that blow, he did the one thing which would bring that gem to its most perfect shapeliness, radiance, and jewelled splendor. That blow which seemed to ruin the superb precious stone was, in fact, its perfect redemption. For, from those two halves were wrought the two magnificent gems which the skilled eye of the lapidary saw hidden in the rough, uncut stone as it came from the mine.
So, sometimes, God lets a stinging blow fall upon your life. The blood spurts. The nerves twine. The soul cries out in agony. The blow seems to you an appalling mistake. But it is not, for you are the most priceless jewel in the world to God. And He is the most skilled lapidary in the universe.
Some day you are to blaze in the diadem of the King. As you lie in His hand now He knows just how to deal with you. Not a blow will be permitted to fall upon your shrinking soul but that the love of God permits it, and works out from its depths, blessing and spiritual enrichment unseen, and unthought of by you.—J.H. McC
Several years ago there was found in an African mine the most magnificent diamond in the world’s history. It was presented to the King of England to blaze in his crown of state. The King sent it to Amsterdam to be cut. It was put into the hands of an expert lapidary. And what do you suppose he did with it?
He took the gem of priceless value, and cut a notch in it. Then he struck it a hard blow with his instrument, and lo! the superb jewel lay in his hand cleft in twain. What recklessness! what wastefulness! what criminal carelessness!
Not so. For days and weeks that blow had been studied and planned. Drawings and models had been made of the gem. Its quality, its defects, its lines of cleavage had all been studied with minutest care. The man to whom it was committed was one of the most skillful lapidaries in the world.
Do you say that blow was a mistake? Nay. It was the climax of the lapidary’s skill. When he struck that blow, he did the one thing which would bring that gem to its most perfect shapeliness, radiance, and jewelled splendor. That blow which seemed to ruin the superb precious stone was, in fact, its perfect redemption. For, from those two halves were wrought the two magnificent gems which the skilled eye of the lapidary saw hidden in the rough, uncut stone as it came from the mine.
So, sometimes, God lets a stinging blow fall upon your life. The blood spurts. The nerves twine. The soul cries out in agony. The blow seems to you an appalling mistake. But it is not, for you are the most priceless jewel in the world to God. And He is the most skilled lapidary in the universe.
Some day you are to blaze in the diadem of the King. As you lie in His hand now He knows just how to deal with you. Not a blow will be permitted to fall upon your shrinking soul but that the love of God permits it, and works out from its depths, blessing and spiritual enrichment unseen, and unthought of by you.—J.H. McC
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