"Learn...to wait on God for the unfolding of His will. Let God form your plans about everything in your mind and heart and then let Him execute them. Do not possess any wisdom of your own. For many times His execution will seem so contradictory to the plan He gave. He will seem to work against Himself. Simply listen, obey and trust God even when it seems highest folly so to do. He will in the end make 'all things work together,' but so many times in the first appearance of the outworking of His plans,
"In His own world He is content
To play a losing game."
So if you would know His voice, never consider results or possible effects. Obey even when He asks you to move in the dark. He Himself will be gloriously light in you. And there will spring up rapidly in your heart an acquaintanceship and a fellowship with God which will be overpowering in itself to hold you and Him together, even in severest testings and under most terrible pressures." --Way of Faith
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Following His Invisible Thread
"We walk by faith, not by appearance." (2 Cor. 5:7, R. V.)
By faith, not appearance; God never wants us to look at our feelings. Self may want us to; and Satan may want us to. But God wants us to face facts, not feelings; the facts of Christ and of His finished and perfect work for us.
When we face these precious facts, and believe them because God says they are facts, God will take care of our feelings.
God never gives feeling to enable us to trust Him; God never gives feeling to encourage us to trust Him; God never gives feeling to show that we have already and utterly trusted Him.
God gives feeling only when He sees that we trust Him apart from all feeling, resting on His own Word, and on His own faithfulness to His promise.
Never until then can the feeling (which is from God) possibly come; and God will give the feeling in such a measure and at such a time as His love sees best for the individual case.
We must choose between facing toward our feelings and facing toward God's facts. Our feelings may be as uncertain as the sea or the shifting sands. God's facts are as certain as the Rock of Ages, even Christ Himself, who is the same yesterday, today and forever.
By faith, not appearance; God never wants us to look at our feelings. Self may want us to; and Satan may want us to. But God wants us to face facts, not feelings; the facts of Christ and of His finished and perfect work for us.
When we face these precious facts, and believe them because God says they are facts, God will take care of our feelings.
God never gives feeling to enable us to trust Him; God never gives feeling to encourage us to trust Him; God never gives feeling to show that we have already and utterly trusted Him.
God gives feeling only when He sees that we trust Him apart from all feeling, resting on His own Word, and on His own faithfulness to His promise.
Never until then can the feeling (which is from God) possibly come; and God will give the feeling in such a measure and at such a time as His love sees best for the individual case.
We must choose between facing toward our feelings and facing toward God's facts. Our feelings may be as uncertain as the sea or the shifting sands. God's facts are as certain as the Rock of Ages, even Christ Himself, who is the same yesterday, today and forever.
"When darkness veils His lovely face
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil."
--from Streams in the Desert
Sunday, September 25, 2011
"We did it." "Now, was that so terrible?"
"Why go I mourning?" (Psalm 42:9.)
Canst thou answer this, believer? Canst thou find any reason why thou art so often mourning instead of rejoicing? Why yield to gloomy anticipations? Who told thee that the night would never end in day? Who told thee that the winter of thy discontent would proceed from frost to frost, from snow and ice, and hail, to deeper snow, and yet more heavy tempest of despair? Knowest thou not that day follows night, that flood comes after ebb, that spring and summer succeed winter? Hope thou then! Hope thou ever! for God fails thee not." --C. H. Spurgeon (emphasis mine)
Canst thou answer this, believer? Canst thou find any reason why thou art so often mourning instead of rejoicing? Why yield to gloomy anticipations? Who told thee that the night would never end in day? Who told thee that the winter of thy discontent would proceed from frost to frost, from snow and ice, and hail, to deeper snow, and yet more heavy tempest of despair? Knowest thou not that day follows night, that flood comes after ebb, that spring and summer succeed winter? Hope thou then! Hope thou ever! for God fails thee not." --C. H. Spurgeon (emphasis mine)
Thursday, August 4, 2011
"Well, one thing I will say. The fire swamp certainly does keep you on your toes. This will all soon be but a happy memory."
At a women's retreat someone asked me if the Christian life must be all crosses and suffering. "Is there no happiness for a believer?" My message that day had been on the great principle of the Cross: My life for yours, and I had tried to show how, though we must die many deaths if we truly follow Christ, life will always lead to the song, the laying down of life always to a resurrection. It is the enemy who would have us think always of death--any kind of death--as a dead end. Christ showed us that it is always, for the Christian, the gateway to life.
Nothing but crosses? No happiness?
"Thy will but holds me to my life's fruition" (George MacDonald, Diary of An Old Soul, April 25). In the path of obedience we shall find the only pure joy to be found anywhere in earth or heaven.
"Goodness and love unfailing, these will follow me all the days of my life" (Psalms 23:6).
--from The Music of His Promises, by Elisabeth Elliot
Nothing but crosses? No happiness?
"Thy will but holds me to my life's fruition" (George MacDonald, Diary of An Old Soul, April 25). In the path of obedience we shall find the only pure joy to be found anywhere in earth or heaven.
"Goodness and love unfailing, these will follow me all the days of my life" (Psalms 23:6).
--from The Music of His Promises, by Elisabeth Elliot
Monday, August 1, 2011
"Death cannot stop True Love. All it can do is delay it for a while."
"My Father is the husbandman." (John 15:1.)
It is comforting to think of trouble, in whatever form it may come to us, as a heavenly messenger, bringing us something from God. In its earthly aspect it may seem hurtful, even destructive; but in its spiritual out-working it yields blessing. Many of the richest blessings which have come down to us from the past are the fruit of sorrow or pain. We should never forget that redemption, the world's greatest blessing, is the fruit of the world's greatest sorrow. In every time of sharp pruning, when the knife is deep and the pain is sore, it is an unspeakable comfort to read, "My Father is the husbandman."
Doctor Vincent tells of being in a great hothouse where luscious clusters of grapes were hanging on every side. The owner said, "When my new gardener came, he said he would have nothing to do with these vines unless he could cut them clean down to the stalk; and he did, and we had no grapes for two years, but this is the result."
There is rich suggestiveness in this interpretation of the pruning process, as we apply it to the Christian life. Pruning seems to be destroying the vine, the gardener appears to be cutting it all away; but he looks on into the future and knows that the final outcome will be the enrichment of its life and greater abundance of fruit.
There are blessings we can never have unless we are ready to pay the price of pain. There is no way to reach them save through suffering. --Dr. Miller
It is comforting to think of trouble, in whatever form it may come to us, as a heavenly messenger, bringing us something from God. In its earthly aspect it may seem hurtful, even destructive; but in its spiritual out-working it yields blessing. Many of the richest blessings which have come down to us from the past are the fruit of sorrow or pain. We should never forget that redemption, the world's greatest blessing, is the fruit of the world's greatest sorrow. In every time of sharp pruning, when the knife is deep and the pain is sore, it is an unspeakable comfort to read, "My Father is the husbandman."
Doctor Vincent tells of being in a great hothouse where luscious clusters of grapes were hanging on every side. The owner said, "When my new gardener came, he said he would have nothing to do with these vines unless he could cut them clean down to the stalk; and he did, and we had no grapes for two years, but this is the result."
There is rich suggestiveness in this interpretation of the pruning process, as we apply it to the Christian life. Pruning seems to be destroying the vine, the gardener appears to be cutting it all away; but he looks on into the future and knows that the final outcome will be the enrichment of its life and greater abundance of fruit.
There are blessings we can never have unless we are ready to pay the price of pain. There is no way to reach them save through suffering. --Dr. Miller
Saturday, July 23, 2011
"I know who you are. Your cruelty reveals everything. You're the dread pirate Roberts, admit it!"
"It is the Lord; let him do what seemeth him good." (1 Samuel 3:18.)
"See God in everything, and God will calm and color all that thou dost see!" It may be that the circumstances of our sorrows will not be removed, their condition will remain unchanged; but if Christ, as Lord and Master of our life, is brought into our grief and gloom, "HE will compass us about with songs of deliverance." To see HIM, and to be sure that His wisdom cannot err, His power cannot fail, His love can never change; to know that even His direst dealings with us are for our deepest spiritual gain, is to be able to say, in the midst of bereavement, sorrow, pain, and loss, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."
Nothing else but seeing God in everything will make us loving and patient with those who annoy and trouble us. They will be to us then only instruments for accomplishing His tender and wise purposes toward us, and we shall even find ourselves at last inwardly thanking them for the blessings they bring us. Nothing else will completely put an end to all murmuring or rebelling thoughts.--H. W. Smith
"See God in everything, and God will calm and color all that thou dost see!" It may be that the circumstances of our sorrows will not be removed, their condition will remain unchanged; but if Christ, as Lord and Master of our life, is brought into our grief and gloom, "HE will compass us about with songs of deliverance." To see HIM, and to be sure that His wisdom cannot err, His power cannot fail, His love can never change; to know that even His direst dealings with us are for our deepest spiritual gain, is to be able to say, in the midst of bereavement, sorrow, pain, and loss, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."
Nothing else but seeing God in everything will make us loving and patient with those who annoy and trouble us. They will be to us then only instruments for accomplishing His tender and wise purposes toward us, and we shall even find ourselves at last inwardly thanking them for the blessings they bring us. Nothing else will completely put an end to all murmuring or rebelling thoughts.--H. W. Smith
Thursday, July 14, 2011
"The only joy she found was in her daily ride."
More than.
Psalm 4:7: Thou hast put gladness in my heart, more than in the time that their corn and their wine increased.
Psalms 3 and 4 were written when David fled from Absalom; and if, as some think, Psalm 4 was written at the time of the Feast of Tabernacles, the harvest and the vintage were over, and the rich stores of corn and new wine were at Absalom's disposal, while David had nothing or very little. It was in every way a hard time for David, and it was not surprising that many said there was "no help for him in God" and "Who will show us any good?" We all know times of trial when the voices within and without talk like that. But David's faith breaks through, and he can honestly say, Thou has put gladness in my heart more than when corn and wine increased. It is not difficult to have gladness in our hearts when we have what we want--corn and wine may stand for whatever we most enjoy doing or possessing--but God asks for something far more than this. He wants what David offered Him when he wrote those words more than.
What David offered to his God was a heart that was utterly satisfied with His will. There were no private reservations, no little whispered "if"--if only I can be where I want to be, and have what I want to have, then there will be gladness in my heart, O God; he did not say that--he did not even say, By Thy grace I am glad, I am as glad as I should be if I had those stores of corn and wine. He went further, he flew right out of all the restricting thoughts that might have caged his spirit, up and up into the free air of God, and he said, Thou hast put a new kind of gladness in my heart. It does not depend on what I have, it is more than that sort of gladness. It is a joy that is entirely independent of circumstances.
--from Edges of His Ways, by Amy Carmichael (1867-1951)
Psalm 4:7: Thou hast put gladness in my heart, more than in the time that their corn and their wine increased.
Psalms 3 and 4 were written when David fled from Absalom; and if, as some think, Psalm 4 was written at the time of the Feast of Tabernacles, the harvest and the vintage were over, and the rich stores of corn and new wine were at Absalom's disposal, while David had nothing or very little. It was in every way a hard time for David, and it was not surprising that many said there was "no help for him in God" and "Who will show us any good?" We all know times of trial when the voices within and without talk like that. But David's faith breaks through, and he can honestly say, Thou has put gladness in my heart more than when corn and wine increased. It is not difficult to have gladness in our hearts when we have what we want--corn and wine may stand for whatever we most enjoy doing or possessing--but God asks for something far more than this. He wants what David offered Him when he wrote those words more than.
What David offered to his God was a heart that was utterly satisfied with His will. There were no private reservations, no little whispered "if"--if only I can be where I want to be, and have what I want to have, then there will be gladness in my heart, O God; he did not say that--he did not even say, By Thy grace I am glad, I am as glad as I should be if I had those stores of corn and wine. He went further, he flew right out of all the restricting thoughts that might have caged his spirit, up and up into the free air of God, and he said, Thou hast put a new kind of gladness in my heart. It does not depend on what I have, it is more than that sort of gladness. It is a joy that is entirely independent of circumstances.
--from Edges of His Ways, by Amy Carmichael (1867-1951)
Saturday, June 11, 2011
"Why does Westley need helping?" "Because he has no strength."
"Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved?" (Song of Solomon 8:5.)
Some one gained a good lesson from a Southern prayer meeting. A...brother asked the Lord for various blessings...but he closed with this unusual petition: "And, O Lord, support us! Yes support us Lord on every leanin' side!" Have you any leaning sides? this humble man's prayer pictures them in a new way and shows the Great Supporter in a new light also. He is always walking by the Christian, ready to extend His mighty arm and steady the weak one on "every leanin' side."
"Child of My love, lean hard,
And let Me feel the pressure of thy care;
I know thy burden, child. I shaped it;
Poised it in Mine Own hand; made no proportion
In its weight to thine unaided strength,
For even as I laid it on, I said,
'I shall be near, and while she leans on Me,
This burden shall be Mine, not hers;
So shall I keep My child within the circling arms
Of My Own love.' Here lay it down, nor fear
To impose it on a shoulder which upholds
The government of worlds. Yet closer come:
Thou art not near enough. I would embrace thy care;
So I might feel My child reposing on My breast.
Thou lovest Me? I knew it. Doubt not then;
But loving Me, lean hard."
--from Streams in the Desert
Some one gained a good lesson from a Southern prayer meeting. A...brother asked the Lord for various blessings...but he closed with this unusual petition: "And, O Lord, support us! Yes support us Lord on every leanin' side!" Have you any leaning sides? this humble man's prayer pictures them in a new way and shows the Great Supporter in a new light also. He is always walking by the Christian, ready to extend His mighty arm and steady the weak one on "every leanin' side."
"Child of My love, lean hard,
And let Me feel the pressure of thy care;
I know thy burden, child. I shaped it;
Poised it in Mine Own hand; made no proportion
In its weight to thine unaided strength,
For even as I laid it on, I said,
'I shall be near, and while she leans on Me,
This burden shall be Mine, not hers;
So shall I keep My child within the circling arms
Of My Own love.' Here lay it down, nor fear
To impose it on a shoulder which upholds
The government of worlds. Yet closer come:
Thou art not near enough. I would embrace thy care;
So I might feel My child reposing on My breast.
Thou lovest Me? I knew it. Doubt not then;
But loving Me, lean hard."
--from Streams in the Desert
Monday, June 6, 2011
"Sorry, Father. I tried. I tried."
"The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me." (Psalm 138:8.)
There is a Divine mystery in suffering, a strange and supernatural power in it, which has never been fathomed by the human reason. There never has been known great saintliness of soul which did not pass through great suffering. When the suffering soul reaches a calm sweet carelessness, when it can inwardly smile at its own suffering, and does not even ask God to deliver it from suffering, then it has wrought its blessed ministry; then patience has its perfect work; then the crucifixion begins to weave itself into a crown.
It is in this state of the perfection of suffering that the Holy Spirit works many marvelous things in our souls. In such a condition, our whole being lies perfectly still under the hand of God; every faculty of the mind and will and heart are at last subdued; a quietness of eternity settles down into the whole being; the tongue grows still, and has but few words to say; it stops asking God questions; it stops crying, "Why hast thou forsaken me?"
The imagination stops building air castles, or running off on foolish lines; the reason is tame and gentle; the choices are annihilated; it has no choice in anything but the purpose of God. The affections are weaned from all creatures and all things; it is so dead that nothing can hurt it, nothing can offend it, nothing can hinder it, nothing can get in its way ("Nothing in the world can fail me now..." --Jon Foreman); for let the circumstances be what they may, it seeks only for God and His will, and it feels assured that God is making everything in the universe, good or bad, past or present, work together for its good.
Oh, the blessedness of being absolutely conquered! of losing our own strength, and wisdom, and plans, and desires, and being where every atom of our nature is like placid Galilee under the omnipotent feet of our Jesus. --Soul Food. (addition mine)
There is a Divine mystery in suffering, a strange and supernatural power in it, which has never been fathomed by the human reason. There never has been known great saintliness of soul which did not pass through great suffering. When the suffering soul reaches a calm sweet carelessness, when it can inwardly smile at its own suffering, and does not even ask God to deliver it from suffering, then it has wrought its blessed ministry; then patience has its perfect work; then the crucifixion begins to weave itself into a crown.
It is in this state of the perfection of suffering that the Holy Spirit works many marvelous things in our souls. In such a condition, our whole being lies perfectly still under the hand of God; every faculty of the mind and will and heart are at last subdued; a quietness of eternity settles down into the whole being; the tongue grows still, and has but few words to say; it stops asking God questions; it stops crying, "Why hast thou forsaken me?"
The imagination stops building air castles, or running off on foolish lines; the reason is tame and gentle; the choices are annihilated; it has no choice in anything but the purpose of God. The affections are weaned from all creatures and all things; it is so dead that nothing can hurt it, nothing can offend it, nothing can hinder it, nothing can get in its way ("Nothing in the world can fail me now..." --Jon Foreman); for let the circumstances be what they may, it seeks only for God and His will, and it feels assured that God is making everything in the universe, good or bad, past or present, work together for its good.
Oh, the blessedness of being absolutely conquered! of losing our own strength, and wisdom, and plans, and desires, and being where every atom of our nature is like placid Galilee under the omnipotent feet of our Jesus. --Soul Food. (addition mine)
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
"Nobody withstands 'The Machine...'"
"Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress." (Psalm 4:1.)
This is one of the grandest testimonies ever given by man to the moral government of God. It is not a man's thanksgiving that he has been set free from suffering. It is a thanksgiving that he has been set free through suffering: "Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress." He declares the sorrows of life to have been themselves the source of life's enlargement.
And have not you and I a thousand times felt this to be true? It is written of Joseph in the dungeon that "the iron entered into his soul." We all feel that what Joseph needed for his soul was just the iron. He had seen only the glitter of the gold. He had been rejoicing in youthful dreams; and dreaming hardens the heart. He who sheds tears over a romance will not be most apt to help reality; real sorrow will be too unpoetic for him. We need the iron to enlarge our nature. The gold is but a vision; the iron is an experience. The chain which unites me to humanity must be an iron chain. That touch of nature which makes the world akin is not joy, but sorrow; gold is partial, but iron is universal.
My soul, if thou wouldst be enlarged into human sympathy, thou must be narrowed into limits of human suffering. Joseph's dungeon is the road to Joseph's throne. Thou canst not lift the iron load of thy brother if the iron hath not entered into thee. It is thy limit that is thine enlargement. It is the shadows of thy life that are the real fulfillment of thy dreams of glory. Murmur not at the shadows; they are better revelations than thy dreams. Say not that the shades of the prison-house have fettered thee; thy fetters are wings--wings of flight into the bosom of humanity. The door of thy prison-house is a door into the heart of the universe. God has enlarged thee by the binding of sorrow's chain.--George Matheson.
This is one of the grandest testimonies ever given by man to the moral government of God. It is not a man's thanksgiving that he has been set free from suffering. It is a thanksgiving that he has been set free through suffering: "Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress." He declares the sorrows of life to have been themselves the source of life's enlargement.
And have not you and I a thousand times felt this to be true? It is written of Joseph in the dungeon that "the iron entered into his soul." We all feel that what Joseph needed for his soul was just the iron. He had seen only the glitter of the gold. He had been rejoicing in youthful dreams; and dreaming hardens the heart. He who sheds tears over a romance will not be most apt to help reality; real sorrow will be too unpoetic for him. We need the iron to enlarge our nature. The gold is but a vision; the iron is an experience. The chain which unites me to humanity must be an iron chain. That touch of nature which makes the world akin is not joy, but sorrow; gold is partial, but iron is universal.
My soul, if thou wouldst be enlarged into human sympathy, thou must be narrowed into limits of human suffering. Joseph's dungeon is the road to Joseph's throne. Thou canst not lift the iron load of thy brother if the iron hath not entered into thee. It is thy limit that is thine enlargement. It is the shadows of thy life that are the real fulfillment of thy dreams of glory. Murmur not at the shadows; they are better revelations than thy dreams. Say not that the shades of the prison-house have fettered thee; thy fetters are wings--wings of flight into the bosom of humanity. The door of thy prison-house is a door into the heart of the universe. God has enlarged thee by the binding of sorrow's chain.--George Matheson.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
"Did you say 'I do'?" "Uh, no. We sort of skipped that part..."
"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." (Psalm 46:1.)
The question often comes, "Why didn't He help me sooner?" It is not His order. He must first adjust you to the trouble and cause you to learn your lesson from it. His promise is, "I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him and honor him." He must be with you in the trouble first all day and all night. Then He will take you out of it. This will not come till you have stopped being restless and fretful about it and become calm and quiet. Then He will say, "It is enough."
God uses trouble to teach His children precious lessons. They are intended to educate us. When their good work is done, a glorious recompense will come to us through them. There is a sweet joy and a real value in them. He does not regard them as difficulties but as opportunities.--from Streams in the Desert
The question often comes, "Why didn't He help me sooner?" It is not His order. He must first adjust you to the trouble and cause you to learn your lesson from it. His promise is, "I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him and honor him." He must be with you in the trouble first all day and all night. Then He will take you out of it. This will not come till you have stopped being restless and fretful about it and become calm and quiet. Then He will say, "It is enough."
God uses trouble to teach His children precious lessons. They are intended to educate us. When their good work is done, a glorious recompense will come to us through them. There is a sweet joy and a real value in them. He does not regard them as difficulties but as opportunities.--from Streams in the Desert
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
"My Westley will always come for me..."
We often hope to be spared trouble or suffering, and surely it is legitimate to pray that we may be ("Lead us not into temptation" is a prayer Jesus taught us to pray). Jesus Himself asked the Father to take away the "cup"; Paul prayed for the removal of his "thorn." In both cases, the answer was no. But God did not give a mere no--He sent what had not been asked; strength to endure. An angel was immediately dispatched to Gethsemane, "bringing him strength" (Lk 22:43 NEB). His suffering did not cease--in fact, "in anguish of spirit He prayed the more urgently and his sweat was like clots of blood" (Lk 22:44).
The apostle was suffering in some physical way, it seems. The things was called "a messenger of Satan," and he did well to ask for its removal. The answer was no--but something unasked was given: grace. There was plenteous grace to enable Paul to endure. What God give in answer to our prayers will always be the thing we most urgently need, and it will always be sufficient.
--from A Lamp for My Feet, by Elisabeth Elliot
The apostle was suffering in some physical way, it seems. The things was called "a messenger of Satan," and he did well to ask for its removal. The answer was no--but something unasked was given: grace. There was plenteous grace to enable Paul to endure. What God give in answer to our prayers will always be the thing we most urgently need, and it will always be sufficient.
--from A Lamp for My Feet, by Elisabeth Elliot
Friday, May 13, 2011
"Will you promise not to hurt him? ....If we surrender and I return with you, will you promise not to hurt this man?"
When we suffer, sometimes one of the first prayers is that others whom we love may not suffer in that way. This is just a faint reflection of His love, for He, Who was led into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil, taught us to pray, Lead us not into temptation. Yet often we are sorely tempted. Help comes by remembering that love is behind even that. "This is My beloved Son, in Whom I am well pleased. Then was Jesus led up of the Spirit into the wilderness." There is wonderful comfort in that Then.
....Out of wilderness experience our wonderful Lord gives us something to use for the help of others. It was so with Him: "In that He Himself hath suffered being tempted, He is able to succour them that are tempted." Is it not worth while to go through anything if only in the end others may be helped?
--from Edges of His Ways, by Amy Carmichael (emphasis mine)
....Out of wilderness experience our wonderful Lord gives us something to use for the help of others. It was so with Him: "In that He Himself hath suffered being tempted, He is able to succour them that are tempted." Is it not worth while to go through anything if only in the end others may be helped?
--from Edges of His Ways, by Amy Carmichael (emphasis mine)
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
"The prince and the count always insist on everyone being healthy before they're broken."
"Let the bones that you have broken rejoice." Psalm 51:8
I must admit it; I have a low tolerance for difficulty. I am a project-oriented person, so I tend to have an agenda for every day. I know exactly what I want to accomplish and what a successful day will look like. I don't want to have to deal with interruptions or obstructions. I want the situations, locations, and people around me to willingly participate in my plan. All of this means that it's counterintuitive for me to view difficultly as something beneficial. I've little time and tolerance for "broken bones."
My problem is that my Redeemer is the redeemer of broken bones. Maybe you're thinking, "Paul, what in the world are you talking about?" "Broken bones" is a physical metaphor for the pain of redemption. In case you've noticed, God's work of delivering you from your addiction to self and sin and molding you into his image isn't always a comfortable process. Sometimes, in order to make our crooked hearts straight God has to break some bones. I gotta confess, I don't like broken bones.
I love the way the prophet Amos talks about this (Amos 4). It's a bit of a disconcerting passage until you wrap your brain around what the prophet is saying about why God is doing what he's doing. Listen to the "broken bones" phraseology of this passage:
"I gave you cleanness of teeth in all your cities,
and lack of bread in all your places."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I also withheld the rain from you
when there were yet three months to the harvest;
I would send rain on one city...
one field would have rain,
and the field on which it did not rain would wither;
so two or three cities would wander to another city
to drink water, and would not be satisfied."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I struck you with blight and mildew;
your many gardens and your vineyards,
your fig trees and your olive trees the locust devoured."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I sent among you a pestilence after the manner of Egypt;
I killed your young men with the sword,
and carried away your horses,
and I made the stench of your camp go up into your nostrils."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I overthrew some of you, as when God overthrew Sodom and
Gomorrah,
and you were as a brand plucked out of the burning."
AMOS 4:6-11
Now, you have to ask, "Why would a God of love do this to the people he says he loves?" Well, there's a phrase that's repeated after every stanza of this scary poem that's the answer to this question. Pay attention to these words: "yet you did not return to me." These acts that seem like the product of vengeful anger are actually acts of redemptive love. You see, in doing these things God is actually fulfilling his covenantal commitment to satisfy the deepest needs of his people. And what is it that they need most? The answer is simple and clear throughout all of Scripture; more than anything else they need him!
But this is exactly where the rub comes in. Although our greatest personal need is to live in a life-shaping relationship with the Lord, as sinners we have hearts that are prone to wander. We very quickly forget him and begin to put some aspect of the creation in his place. We very soon forget that he's to be the center of everything we do, and we put ourselves in the center of our universe. We easily lose sight of the fact that our hearts were made for him, and that deep sense of well-being that all of us seek can only be found in him. We rapidly forget the powerfully addicting dangers of sin and think we can step over God's boundaries without moral cost. So, God in the beauty of his redeeming love will "break our bones." He'll bring us through difficulty, want, suffering, sadness, loss, and grief in order to ensure that we are living in pursuit of the one thing that we desperately need--him.
It's time for us to embrace, teach, and encourage others with the theology of uncomfortable grace. As long as sin still lives inside of us, producing in each of us a propensity to forget and wander, God's grace will come to us in uncomfortable forms. You may be wondering where the grace of God is in your life, when actually you're getting it. But it's not the grace of release or relief; no, you're getting the uncomfortable grace of rescue, relationship, and refinement.
So, if you are God's child, resist the temptation to doubt his goodness in the middle of your stress. It's time for us to stop thinking that our difficulty is a sign of his unfaithfulness and inattention. If you are God's child and you still recognize the battle of sin within, then those difficulties are sure signs of rescuing redemptive love. God isn't withholding his grace from you. No, you're experiencing uncomfortable grace, grace that's willing to break bones in order for your heart to be true. This grace is unwilling to give up. This grace will not turn its back. This grace will not accept the status quo. This grace will not compromise or grow cynical. God hasn't forgotten you. He loves you with real love, and he's giving you real grace. And he'll continue to do so until you're finally free of your propensity to wander away. Now that's real love.
--from Whiter Than Snow: Meditations on Sin and Mercy, by Paul David Tripp (emphasis mine)
I must admit it; I have a low tolerance for difficulty. I am a project-oriented person, so I tend to have an agenda for every day. I know exactly what I want to accomplish and what a successful day will look like. I don't want to have to deal with interruptions or obstructions. I want the situations, locations, and people around me to willingly participate in my plan. All of this means that it's counterintuitive for me to view difficultly as something beneficial. I've little time and tolerance for "broken bones."
My problem is that my Redeemer is the redeemer of broken bones. Maybe you're thinking, "Paul, what in the world are you talking about?" "Broken bones" is a physical metaphor for the pain of redemption. In case you've noticed, God's work of delivering you from your addiction to self and sin and molding you into his image isn't always a comfortable process. Sometimes, in order to make our crooked hearts straight God has to break some bones. I gotta confess, I don't like broken bones.
I love the way the prophet Amos talks about this (Amos 4). It's a bit of a disconcerting passage until you wrap your brain around what the prophet is saying about why God is doing what he's doing. Listen to the "broken bones" phraseology of this passage:
"I gave you cleanness of teeth in all your cities,
and lack of bread in all your places."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I also withheld the rain from you
when there were yet three months to the harvest;
I would send rain on one city...
one field would have rain,
and the field on which it did not rain would wither;
so two or three cities would wander to another city
to drink water, and would not be satisfied."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I struck you with blight and mildew;
your many gardens and your vineyards,
your fig trees and your olive trees the locust devoured."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I sent among you a pestilence after the manner of Egypt;
I killed your young men with the sword,
and carried away your horses,
and I made the stench of your camp go up into your nostrils."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I overthrew some of you, as when God overthrew Sodom and
Gomorrah,
and you were as a brand plucked out of the burning."
AMOS 4:6-11
Now, you have to ask, "Why would a God of love do this to the people he says he loves?" Well, there's a phrase that's repeated after every stanza of this scary poem that's the answer to this question. Pay attention to these words: "yet you did not return to me." These acts that seem like the product of vengeful anger are actually acts of redemptive love. You see, in doing these things God is actually fulfilling his covenantal commitment to satisfy the deepest needs of his people. And what is it that they need most? The answer is simple and clear throughout all of Scripture; more than anything else they need him!
But this is exactly where the rub comes in. Although our greatest personal need is to live in a life-shaping relationship with the Lord, as sinners we have hearts that are prone to wander. We very quickly forget him and begin to put some aspect of the creation in his place. We very soon forget that he's to be the center of everything we do, and we put ourselves in the center of our universe. We easily lose sight of the fact that our hearts were made for him, and that deep sense of well-being that all of us seek can only be found in him. We rapidly forget the powerfully addicting dangers of sin and think we can step over God's boundaries without moral cost. So, God in the beauty of his redeeming love will "break our bones." He'll bring us through difficulty, want, suffering, sadness, loss, and grief in order to ensure that we are living in pursuit of the one thing that we desperately need--him.
It's time for us to embrace, teach, and encourage others with the theology of uncomfortable grace. As long as sin still lives inside of us, producing in each of us a propensity to forget and wander, God's grace will come to us in uncomfortable forms. You may be wondering where the grace of God is in your life, when actually you're getting it. But it's not the grace of release or relief; no, you're getting the uncomfortable grace of rescue, relationship, and refinement.
So, if you are God's child, resist the temptation to doubt his goodness in the middle of your stress. It's time for us to stop thinking that our difficulty is a sign of his unfaithfulness and inattention. If you are God's child and you still recognize the battle of sin within, then those difficulties are sure signs of rescuing redemptive love. God isn't withholding his grace from you. No, you're experiencing uncomfortable grace, grace that's willing to break bones in order for your heart to be true. This grace is unwilling to give up. This grace will not turn its back. This grace will not accept the status quo. This grace will not compromise or grow cynical. God hasn't forgotten you. He loves you with real love, and he's giving you real grace. And he'll continue to do so until you're finally free of your propensity to wander away. Now that's real love.
--from Whiter Than Snow: Meditations on Sin and Mercy, by Paul David Tripp (emphasis mine)
Thursday, May 5, 2011
"So it's to be torture then? I can cope with torture..."
"There he proved them." (Exod. 15:25.)
I stood once in the test room of a great steel mill. All around me were little partitions and compartments. Steel had been tested to the limit, and marked with figures that showed its breaking point. Some pieces had been twisted until they broke, and the strength of torsion was marked on them. Some had been stretched to the breaking point and their tensile strength indicated. Some had been compressed to the crushing point, and also marked. The master of the steel mill knew just what these pieces of steel would stand under strain. He knew just what they would bear if placed in the great ship, building, or bridge. He knew this because his testing room revealed it.
It is often so with God's children. God does not want us to be like vases of glass or porcelain. He would have us like these toughened pieces of steel, able to bear twisting and crushing to the uttermost without collapse.
He wants us to be, not hothouse plants, but storm-beaten oaks; not sand dunes driven with every gust of wind, but granite rocks withstanding the fiercest storms. To make us such He must needs bring us into His testing room of suffering. Many of us need no other argument than our own experiences to prove that suffering is indeed God's testing room of faith. --J. H. McC.
I stood once in the test room of a great steel mill. All around me were little partitions and compartments. Steel had been tested to the limit, and marked with figures that showed its breaking point. Some pieces had been twisted until they broke, and the strength of torsion was marked on them. Some had been stretched to the breaking point and their tensile strength indicated. Some had been compressed to the crushing point, and also marked. The master of the steel mill knew just what these pieces of steel would stand under strain. He knew just what they would bear if placed in the great ship, building, or bridge. He knew this because his testing room revealed it.
It is often so with God's children. God does not want us to be like vases of glass or porcelain. He would have us like these toughened pieces of steel, able to bear twisting and crushing to the uttermost without collapse.
He wants us to be, not hothouse plants, but storm-beaten oaks; not sand dunes driven with every gust of wind, but granite rocks withstanding the fiercest storms. To make us such He must needs bring us into His testing room of suffering. Many of us need no other argument than our own experiences to prove that suffering is indeed God's testing room of faith. --J. H. McC.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
"Now let's see, where were we? Oh, yes. In the Pit of Despair..."
"And he took him aside from the multitude." Mark 7:33
Paul not only stood the tests in Christian activity, but in the solitude of captivity. You may stand the strain of the most intense labor, coupled with severe suffering, and yet break down utterly when laid aside from all religious activities; when forced into close confinement in some prison house.
That noble bird, soaring the highest above the clouds and enduring the longest flights, sinks into despair when in a cage where it is forced to beat its helpless wings against its prison bars. You have seen the great eagle languish in its narrow cell with bowed head and drooping wings. What a picture of the sorrow of inactivity.
Paul in prison. That was another side of life. Do you want to see how he takes it? I see him looking out over the top of his prison wall and over the heads of his enemies. I see him write a document and sign his name--not the prisoner of Festus, nor of Caesar; not the victim of the Sanhedrin; but the--"prisoner of the Lord." He saw only the hand of God in it all. To him the prison become a palace. Its corridors ring with shouts of triumphant praise and joy.
Restrained from the missionary work he loved so well, he now built a new pulpit--a new witness stand--and from that place of bondage come some of the sweetest and most helpful ministries of Christian liberty. What precious messages of light come from those dark shadows of captivity.
Think of the long train of imprisoned saints who have followed in Paul's wake. For twelve long years Bunyan's lips were silenced in Bedford jail. It was there that he did the greatest and best work of his life. There he wrote the book that has been read next to the Bible. He says, "I was at home in prison and I sat me down and wrote, and wrote, for joy did make me write."
The wonderful dream of that long night has lighted the pathway of millions of weary pilgrims.... Oh, the heavenly consolation that has poured forth from places of solitude!--S. C. Rees
Paul not only stood the tests in Christian activity, but in the solitude of captivity. You may stand the strain of the most intense labor, coupled with severe suffering, and yet break down utterly when laid aside from all religious activities; when forced into close confinement in some prison house.
That noble bird, soaring the highest above the clouds and enduring the longest flights, sinks into despair when in a cage where it is forced to beat its helpless wings against its prison bars. You have seen the great eagle languish in its narrow cell with bowed head and drooping wings. What a picture of the sorrow of inactivity.
Paul in prison. That was another side of life. Do you want to see how he takes it? I see him looking out over the top of his prison wall and over the heads of his enemies. I see him write a document and sign his name--not the prisoner of Festus, nor of Caesar; not the victim of the Sanhedrin; but the--"prisoner of the Lord." He saw only the hand of God in it all. To him the prison become a palace. Its corridors ring with shouts of triumphant praise and joy.
Restrained from the missionary work he loved so well, he now built a new pulpit--a new witness stand--and from that place of bondage come some of the sweetest and most helpful ministries of Christian liberty. What precious messages of light come from those dark shadows of captivity.
Think of the long train of imprisoned saints who have followed in Paul's wake. For twelve long years Bunyan's lips were silenced in Bedford jail. It was there that he did the greatest and best work of his life. There he wrote the book that has been read next to the Bible. He says, "I was at home in prison and I sat me down and wrote, and wrote, for joy did make me write."
The wonderful dream of that long night has lighted the pathway of millions of weary pilgrims.... Oh, the heavenly consolation that has poured forth from places of solitude!--S. C. Rees
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
"Don't even think about trying to escape..."
"Shut up to faith." (Galatians 3:23.)
God, in olden time suffered man to be kept in ward by the law that he might learn the more excellent way of faith. For by the law he would see God's holy standard and by the law he would see his own utter helplessness; then he would be glad to learn God's way of faith.
God still shuts us up to faith. Our natures, our circumstances, trials, disappointments, all serve to shut us up and keep us in ward till we see that the only way out is God's way of faith. Moses tried by self-effort, by personal influence, even by violence, to bring about the deliverance of his people. God had to shut him up forty years in the wilderness before he was prepared for God's work.
Paul and Silas were bidden of God to preach the Gospel in Europe. They landed and proceeded to Philippi. They were flogged, they were shut up in prison, their feet were put fast in the stocks. They were shut up to faith. They trusted God. They sang praises to Him in the darkest hour, and God wrought deliverance and salvation.
John was banished to the Isle of Patmos. He was shut up to faith. Had he not been so shut up, he would never have seen such glorious visions of God.
Dear reader, are you in some great trouble? Have you had some great disappointment, have you met some sorrow, some unspeakable loss? Are you in a hard place? Cheer up! You are shut up to faith. Take your trouble the right way. Commit it to God. Praise Him that He maketh "all things work together for good," and that "God worketh for him that waiteth for him." There will be blessings, help and revelations of God that will come to you that never could otherwise have come; and many besides yourself will receive great light and blessing because you were shut up to faith.
--C. H. P. (emphasis mine)
God, in olden time suffered man to be kept in ward by the law that he might learn the more excellent way of faith. For by the law he would see God's holy standard and by the law he would see his own utter helplessness; then he would be glad to learn God's way of faith.
God still shuts us up to faith. Our natures, our circumstances, trials, disappointments, all serve to shut us up and keep us in ward till we see that the only way out is God's way of faith. Moses tried by self-effort, by personal influence, even by violence, to bring about the deliverance of his people. God had to shut him up forty years in the wilderness before he was prepared for God's work.
Paul and Silas were bidden of God to preach the Gospel in Europe. They landed and proceeded to Philippi. They were flogged, they were shut up in prison, their feet were put fast in the stocks. They were shut up to faith. They trusted God. They sang praises to Him in the darkest hour, and God wrought deliverance and salvation.
John was banished to the Isle of Patmos. He was shut up to faith. Had he not been so shut up, he would never have seen such glorious visions of God.
Dear reader, are you in some great trouble? Have you had some great disappointment, have you met some sorrow, some unspeakable loss? Are you in a hard place? Cheer up! You are shut up to faith. Take your trouble the right way. Commit it to God. Praise Him that He maketh "all things work together for good," and that "God worketh for him that waiteth for him." There will be blessings, help and revelations of God that will come to you that never could otherwise have come; and many besides yourself will receive great light and blessing because you were shut up to faith.
--C. H. P. (emphasis mine)
Friday, April 22, 2011
"Do you hear that sound, Highness? Those are the shrieking eels!"
"And the rest, some on boards, some on broken pieces of the ship. And so it came to pass that they escaped all safe to land." (Acts 27:44.)
The marvelous story of Paul's voyage to Rome, with its trials and triumphs, is a fine pattern of the lights and shades of the way of faith all through the story of human life. The remarkable feature of it is the hard and narrow places which we find intermingled with God's most extraordinary interpositions and providences.
It is the common idea that the pathway of faith is strewn with flowers, and that when God interposes in the life of His people, He does it on a scale so grand that He lifts us quite out of the plane of difficulties. The actual fact, however, is that the real experience is quite contrary. The story of the Bible is one of alternate trial and triumph in the case of everyone of the cloud of witnesses from Abel down to the latest martyr.
Paul, more than anyone else, was an example of how much a child of God can suffer without being crushed or broken in spirit. On account of his testifying in Damascus, he was hunted down by persecutors and obliged to fly for his life, but we behold not heavenly chariot transporting the holy apostle amid thunderbolts of flame from the reach of his foes, but "through a window in a basket," was he let down over the walls of Damascus and so escaped their hands.
....Again we find him left for months int he lonely dungeons; we find him telling of his watchings, his fastings, and his desertion by friends, of his brutal and shameful beatings, and here even after God has promised to deliver him, we see him for days left to toss upon a stormy sea, obliged to stand guard over the treacherous seaman, and at last when the deliverance comes, there is no heavenly galley sailing from the skies to take off the noble prisoner; there is no angel from walking along the waters and stilling the raging breakers; there is no supernatural sign of the transcendent miracle that is being wrought; but one is compelled to seize a spar, another floating plank, another to climb on a fragment of the wreck, another to strike out and swim for his life.
Here is God's pattern for our own lives. Here is a Gospel of help fore people that have to live in this every day world with real and ordinary surroundings, and a thousand practical conditions which have to be met in a thoroughly practical way.
God's promises and God's providences do not lift us out of the plane of common sense and commonplace trial, but it is through these very things that faith is perfected, and that God loves to interweave the golden threads of His love along the warp and woof of our every day experience.--Hard Places in the Way of Faith
The marvelous story of Paul's voyage to Rome, with its trials and triumphs, is a fine pattern of the lights and shades of the way of faith all through the story of human life. The remarkable feature of it is the hard and narrow places which we find intermingled with God's most extraordinary interpositions and providences.
It is the common idea that the pathway of faith is strewn with flowers, and that when God interposes in the life of His people, He does it on a scale so grand that He lifts us quite out of the plane of difficulties. The actual fact, however, is that the real experience is quite contrary. The story of the Bible is one of alternate trial and triumph in the case of everyone of the cloud of witnesses from Abel down to the latest martyr.
Paul, more than anyone else, was an example of how much a child of God can suffer without being crushed or broken in spirit. On account of his testifying in Damascus, he was hunted down by persecutors and obliged to fly for his life, but we behold not heavenly chariot transporting the holy apostle amid thunderbolts of flame from the reach of his foes, but "through a window in a basket," was he let down over the walls of Damascus and so escaped their hands.
....Again we find him left for months int he lonely dungeons; we find him telling of his watchings, his fastings, and his desertion by friends, of his brutal and shameful beatings, and here even after God has promised to deliver him, we see him for days left to toss upon a stormy sea, obliged to stand guard over the treacherous seaman, and at last when the deliverance comes, there is no heavenly galley sailing from the skies to take off the noble prisoner; there is no angel from walking along the waters and stilling the raging breakers; there is no supernatural sign of the transcendent miracle that is being wrought; but one is compelled to seize a spar, another floating plank, another to climb on a fragment of the wreck, another to strike out and swim for his life.
Here is God's pattern for our own lives. Here is a Gospel of help fore people that have to live in this every day world with real and ordinary surroundings, and a thousand practical conditions which have to be met in a thoroughly practical way.
God's promises and God's providences do not lift us out of the plane of common sense and commonplace trial, but it is through these very things that faith is perfected, and that God loves to interweave the golden threads of His love along the warp and woof of our every day experience.--Hard Places in the Way of Faith
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
The first post I have actually written...
The other day I was thinking about some friends of mine who have suffered greatly but have still kept the faith. Some of them have are writing about their experiences and have blogs; other just need a little encouragement. So I thought to myself, "I already post the encouraging thoughts of faithful believers who are strangers, so why not my contemporaries and friends?"
The first of those--who might be listed among the "cloud of witnesses"--is my friend, Amanda. Amanda and I went to college together and got to know each other by serving in some of the same campus groups and swapping good music (Over the Rhine, baby!). Now we catch up via phone several times a year and have added book titles to our swap-a-thon; we often find we are reading the same encouraging Christian literature (Streams in the Desert)!
Here is one of my favorite posts from her blog in the past year:
I wanted to share an excerpt that really spoke to me:
" I love how Bruce Campbell says that acceptance involves the willingness to build a new life. He discusses a great analogy on acceptance from one of his self-help groups. The woman wrote an essay, “Welcome to Holland”, where she says that having CFS was like planning a trip to Italy but when the plane lands, you’re told “Welcome to Holland.”
My faith has really been challenged through having CFS. I am constantly repeating Jeremiah 29:11 over and over again: "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." It's so hard for me to trust and let go of all of my worries and fears. I find myself planning things for when I feel better. I try to plan when I'll be able to have a baby, when I'll be able to go get my masters, or when I'll be able to exercise like I used to. But when I'm filling my brain with these thoughts, it doesn't do me any good. Because then I'm constantly thinking about what could happen and not thinking about what I can do. I need to get used to this being my new normal.
So have I fully accepted that I have CFS? I don't know! I guess it depends what day you ask me!
I highly recommend that you read the whole article:
http://www.fightingfatigue.org/?p=8806
--------------------------------------------------------------------
And I highly recommend that you read her whole blog!
http://knittygrittyonlife.blogspot.com/
--Cari
The first of those--who might be listed among the "cloud of witnesses"--is my friend, Amanda. Amanda and I went to college together and got to know each other by serving in some of the same campus groups and swapping good music (Over the Rhine, baby!). Now we catch up via phone several times a year and have added book titles to our swap-a-thon; we often find we are reading the same encouraging Christian literature (Streams in the Desert)!
Here is one of my favorite posts from her blog in the past year:
Friday, December 10, 2010
A new normal
Someone posted this article on another blog that I read. It's all about the stages of adjusting to a chronic illness. The stages mentioned are denial, fear, anger/frustration, grief/depression and then eventually acceptance. I really like how the writer describes each stage. I also feel like I continually go from one stage to the next.I wanted to share an excerpt that really spoke to me:
" I love how Bruce Campbell says that acceptance involves the willingness to build a new life. He discusses a great analogy on acceptance from one of his self-help groups. The woman wrote an essay, “Welcome to Holland”, where she says that having CFS was like planning a trip to Italy but when the plane lands, you’re told “Welcome to Holland.”
“Holland!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy.” But there’s been a change in the flight plan. You have landed in Holland. And there you must stay.This is not the life I signed up for. I really struggle with acceptance because I don't want to believe that this is how I'm going to be for the rest of my life. Instead, I try to focus on accepting how I feel on a daily basis. Instead of thinking, I'm never going to be able to have energy again. I try to think, today I may not feel well but I will try to make the best of it and hopefully tomorrow will be better.
The important thing is that it’s just a different place. You must buy new guidebooks. You must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would not otherwise have met. It’s slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there a while, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts.
So, welcome to Holland. Along with the patient in your life, you have landed in an unexpected destination. You have experienced the loss of a dream and are challenged to adjust to a different type of life than you had planned. You have probably lost some companionship and, instead, may have taken on new responsibilities. But, like the person in our class, you have a choice to dwell on what you have lost or to seek out new possibilities.
My faith has really been challenged through having CFS. I am constantly repeating Jeremiah 29:11 over and over again: "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." It's so hard for me to trust and let go of all of my worries and fears. I find myself planning things for when I feel better. I try to plan when I'll be able to have a baby, when I'll be able to go get my masters, or when I'll be able to exercise like I used to. But when I'm filling my brain with these thoughts, it doesn't do me any good. Because then I'm constantly thinking about what could happen and not thinking about what I can do. I need to get used to this being my new normal.
So have I fully accepted that I have CFS? I don't know! I guess it depends what day you ask me!
I highly recommend that you read the whole article:
http://www.fightingfatigue.org/?p=8806
--------------------------------------------------------------------
And I highly recommend that you read her whole blog!
http://knittygrittyonlife.blogspot.com/
--Cari
Monday, February 21, 2011
Unto Himself
"He brought me forth also into a large place; he delivered me; because he delighted in me." (Psa. 18:19.)
Fearing to launch on "full surrender's" tide,
I asked the Lord where would its waters glide
My little bark, "To troubled seas I dread?"
"Unto Myself," He said.
Weeping beside an open grave I stand,
In bitterness of soul I cried to God:
"Where leads this path of sorrow that I tread?"
"Unto Myself," He said.
Striving for souls, I loved the work too well;
Then disappointments came; I could not tell
The reason, till He said, "I am thine all;
Unto Myself I call."
Unto Himself! No earthly tongue can tell
The bliss I find, since in His heart I dwell;
The things that charmed me once seem all as naught;
Unto Himself I'm brought.
--from Streams in the Desert
Fearing to launch on "full surrender's" tide,
I asked the Lord where would its waters glide
My little bark, "To troubled seas I dread?"
"Unto Myself," He said.
Weeping beside an open grave I stand,
In bitterness of soul I cried to God:
"Where leads this path of sorrow that I tread?"
"Unto Myself," He said.
Striving for souls, I loved the work too well;
Then disappointments came; I could not tell
The reason, till He said, "I am thine all;
Unto Myself I call."
Unto Himself! No earthly tongue can tell
The bliss I find, since in His heart I dwell;
The things that charmed me once seem all as naught;
Unto Himself I'm brought.
--from Streams in the Desert
Thursday, February 3, 2011
"We'll never survive..."
"And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day." (Gen. 32:24.)
Beloved, this must ever be a typical scene in every transformed life. There comes a crisis-hour to each of us, if God has called us to the highest and best, when all resources fail; when we face either ruin or something higher than we ever dreamed; when we must have infinite help from God and yet, ere we can have it, we must let something go; we must surrender completely; we must cease from our own wisdom, strength, and righteousness, and become crucified with Christ and alive in Him. God knows how to lead us up to this crisis, and He knows how to lead us through.
Is He leading you thus? Is this the meaning of your deep trial, or your difficult surroundings, or that impossible situation, or that trying place through which you cannot go without Him, and yet you have not enough of Him to give you the victory?
Oh, turn to Jacob's God! Cast yourself helplessly at His feet. Die to your strength and wisdom in His loving arms and rise, like Jacob, into His strength and all-sufficiency. There is no way out of your hard and narrow place but at the top. You must get deliverance by rising higher and coming into a new experience with God. Oh, may it bring you into all that is meant by the revelation of the Mighty One of Jacob!
--from But God
Beloved, this must ever be a typical scene in every transformed life. There comes a crisis-hour to each of us, if God has called us to the highest and best, when all resources fail; when we face either ruin or something higher than we ever dreamed; when we must have infinite help from God and yet, ere we can have it, we must let something go; we must surrender completely; we must cease from our own wisdom, strength, and righteousness, and become crucified with Christ and alive in Him. God knows how to lead us up to this crisis, and He knows how to lead us through.
Is He leading you thus? Is this the meaning of your deep trial, or your difficult surroundings, or that impossible situation, or that trying place through which you cannot go without Him, and yet you have not enough of Him to give you the victory?
Oh, turn to Jacob's God! Cast yourself helplessly at His feet. Die to your strength and wisdom in His loving arms and rise, like Jacob, into His strength and all-sufficiency. There is no way out of your hard and narrow place but at the top. You must get deliverance by rising higher and coming into a new experience with God. Oh, may it bring you into all that is meant by the revelation of the Mighty One of Jacob!
--from But God
Sunday, January 16, 2011
For those who "Walk in White"
from Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest:
DO YOU WALK IN WHITE?
"We were buried with Him...that just as Christ was raised from the dead...even so we also should walk in newness of life" (Romans 6:4).
No one experiences complete sanctification without going through a "white funeral"--the burial of the old life. If there has never been this crucial moment of change through death, sanctification will never be more than an elusive dream. There must be a "white funeral," a death with only one resurrection--a resurrection into the life of Jesus Christ. Nothing can defeat a life like this. It has oneness with God for only one purpose--to be a witness for Him.
Have you really come to your last days? You have often come to them in your mind, but have you really experienced them? You cannot die or go to your funeral in a mood of excitement. Death means you stop being. You must agree with God and stop being the intensely striving kind of Christian you have been. We avoid the cemetery and continually refuse our own death. It will not happen by striving, but by yielding to death. It is dying--being "baptized into His death" (Romans 6:3).
Have you had your own "white funeral," or are you piously deceiving your own soul? Has there been a point in your life which you now mark as your last day? is there a place in your life to which you go back in memory with humility and overwhelming gratitude, so that you can honestly proclaim, "Yes, it was then, at my 'white funeral,' that I made an agreement with God."
"This is the will of God, your sanctification..." (1 Thessalonians 4:3). Once you truly realize this is God's will, you will enter into the process of sanctification as a natural response. Are you willing to experience that "white funeral" now? Will you agree with Him that this is your last day on earth? The moment of agreement depends on you.
DO YOU WALK IN WHITE?
"We were buried with Him...that just as Christ was raised from the dead...even so we also should walk in newness of life" (Romans 6:4).
No one experiences complete sanctification without going through a "white funeral"--the burial of the old life. If there has never been this crucial moment of change through death, sanctification will never be more than an elusive dream. There must be a "white funeral," a death with only one resurrection--a resurrection into the life of Jesus Christ. Nothing can defeat a life like this. It has oneness with God for only one purpose--to be a witness for Him.
Have you really come to your last days? You have often come to them in your mind, but have you really experienced them? You cannot die or go to your funeral in a mood of excitement. Death means you stop being. You must agree with God and stop being the intensely striving kind of Christian you have been. We avoid the cemetery and continually refuse our own death. It will not happen by striving, but by yielding to death. It is dying--being "baptized into His death" (Romans 6:3).
Have you had your own "white funeral," or are you piously deceiving your own soul? Has there been a point in your life which you now mark as your last day? is there a place in your life to which you go back in memory with humility and overwhelming gratitude, so that you can honestly proclaim, "Yes, it was then, at my 'white funeral,' that I made an agreement with God."
"This is the will of God, your sanctification..." (1 Thessalonians 4:3). Once you truly realize this is God's will, you will enter into the process of sanctification as a natural response. Are you willing to experience that "white funeral" now? Will you agree with Him that this is your last day on earth? The moment of agreement depends on you.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
"Hoo hoo hoo! Look who knows so much, heh?"
Spectators at the cross of Calvary imagined a dramatic escape or rescue as the proof of Jesus' kingship. God had an infinitely greater demonstration in mind. The Son would not manage to escape from the hands of His captors or from the nails and wood that held Him, nor would someone else come to His rescue. He would go through the last extremity of what it means to be human, and by that very means, by death itself, He would destroy the power of death. He would become, by His obedient dying, the "Death of Death" and "Hell's Destruction."
When we, in our "lesser miseries," plead for escape or rescue, what unimaginable "solutions" God has stored up for us! But often, in response to our pleadings, the word is Trust Me.
--from The Music of His Promises, by Elisabeth Elliot
When we, in our "lesser miseries," plead for escape or rescue, what unimaginable "solutions" God has stored up for us! But often, in response to our pleadings, the word is Trust Me.
--from The Music of His Promises, by Elisabeth Elliot
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