deep, dark waters and a Mountain in the distance

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.  (Isaiah 43:2 ESV)

I remember sitting in the hospital next to my Stephen after he had fallen off the cliff while rock climbing with so many questions running through my mind and heart.  Just 8 months earlier, it was Stephen sitting beside me in a hospital bed as I was recovering from my second hip replacement.  This was supposed to be a summer of recovery, of newness, a time to enjoy the fruits of what we had just endured.  Yet I was sitting next to him now, watching him suffer in ways that I could never have imagined, and not knowing what was going to happen next… would he walk normally again, run, climb… what would it look like for us both to have such limitations and physical pain?  The words of his doctor after surgery just kept ringing in my ears, “this was a life-changing event… he will heal, but he’ll never be the same. “

It was the Night Watch that pulled me through that first fateful night.  It was perhaps one of the darkest nights I have known, those eight or nine hours where Stephen was back in surgery and I didn’t know what was going to happen next.  I felt so out of control, so helpless, so blindsided.  But those faithful watchers of the night were up all night with me, praying for us, holding my arms up in hope and faith when I felt like I had no strength to stand.  And days later, when the waters were very nearly over my head and over Stephen’s, it was from a faithful Night Watch father that these words would come… “the waters will not overwhelm you… you will not sink.”  And we knew that even here, especially here, in this deep and dark place, Jesus was with us, and that even if the waves blinded our faith and we started to fall further in like Peter, Jesus would never let us sink.

It has been many years and quite a journey since that season of deep waters in 2005, but I am finding myself once again in those deep, dark, swirly waters and today I was reminded of those sweet words again… “I will not let them drown you… you will not sink.”  Suffering is a strange reality.  Just like anything, I have found myself to be on a pilgrimage through many different seasons and chapters even as I have walked through life with a chronic illness.  But in every season there is an invitation to see Him with more clarity and to trust without borders.

I think I would call this last year Winter of Desolation, although I am not sure any words or title would do it justice.  Maybe that sounds too dramatic, but it has felt thus.  It has just been a time of the testing of my heart and faith unlike any I have known thus far.  I think the bitterness and challenge of it all has been that I keep expecting it to be different.  Much like the summer that I mentioned above where we were expecting one thing and ended up with something very different indeed, and even like the weather outside (funny how He shows us His leadership through Creation), I keep expecting Spring and along comes another deep freeze or major storm.  With each new doctor’s appointment seems to come an announcement of a new impending storm.  And I will be honest, it feels like too much.  I don’t know if you have ever experienced the keenness of the the pain that comes with wanting to do anything possible to change something that you are absolutely powerless to change, but it is powerful in its decimation and humiliation.  The only real and right response in that place is ‘Jesus is God, and I am not…and so, yes and amen.”

And so today, I find myself standing with my knees (literally) in the raging waters of this river’s edge.  I know I have to cross it.  I know those waters are going to try to take me under leaving me utterly breathless, and those torrents are going beat me savagely against the rocks.  But the only way forward is through.  I must go through this.  I am going to feel alone and abandoned and maybe even hopeless at times, but He made me a promise, “when you pass through the waters, I will be with you.”  Jesus promised and even more He says, “if it were not so, I would have told you.”

I think of Jesus walking on water through the storms, on top of the waves, even sleeping peacefully at another time through torrents and breakers… He is God after all.  And I think of Peter climbing out of the safety of the boat because he just wanted to be with Jesus where He was.  And then seeing the waves and realizing the overwhelming-ness of it all, starting to sink.  Most people read Jesus’ response as though He was speaking with disapproval or rebuke, but I hear them with love and tenderness… even the smallest faith moves His heart and Peter’s faith, small as it was, was the only one big enough to climb out of the boat onto to the water towards Jesus’ embrace. “Oh Peter, your faith is little, but I am God, and I love you so. And just so you know, I will never let you sink.”

So though my faith be little, probably much smaller than Peter’s, I cannot think of any other response but to keep moving toward the One that I love.  Yes and amen, Jesus, even here, even now, even when I don’t understand.

There is a mountain city on the other side of all of this.  A place He has gone to prepare for us.  A place where pain and tears and questions without answers are all left behind.  A place where we will finally see and know as we are seen and known.  In my heart of hearts, I see Jesus there and cling to that vision of Him… to hear His voice and see His face in fullness… it is my heart’s deepest desire.  And so I must keep moving forward.  I must go through and over and under all that He sets before me in the way Home.  I have a mountain to climb, a Face to see, a Voice I am longing to hear and Feet I am longing to kiss.  And so, my Lord and my King, yes and amen, come what may… it’s all for You.  Only for You, Jesus… where else would I go?

“Before we reach the place where such waters must be crossed, there is almost a private word spoken by the Beloved to the lover. That is the word which will be most assaulted as we stand within sight and sound of that seething, roaring flood. The enemy will fasten upon it, twist it about, belittle it, obscure it, try to undermine our confidence in its integrity, and to wreck our tranquility by making us afraid, but this will put him to flight: I believe God that it shall be even as it was told to me.

For “Faith reaches out to what it does not grasp”; it is always saying, “Even now, Even there, Even so.” But I know that ‘even now’ that which is beyond human hope can be. I know that “even there, in the uttermost places, shall Thy hand lead me and Thy right hand shall hold me.” And most tender, most intimate of all, “Even so, Father, for so it seemeth good in Thy sight.” And here, as we know, “Even so” means simply “Yes.” “Yes, Father,” yes to everything, to every challenge of faith, to every mystery. And then, before we are aware, we have crossed the waters and they did not overflow us. And we look up, and away beyond, and high above us, like a finger pointing up into the sky, is the summit of a mountain, the mountain — our hearts tell us so — that is set for us to climb.”

– Quote by Amy Carmichael from Gold by Moonlight

the college of content

“Paul says, “I have learned… to be content,” as much as to say, he did not know how at one time. It cost him some pains to attain to the mystery of that great truth. No doubt he sometimes thought he had learned, and then broke down. And when at last he had attained unto it, and could say, “I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content,” he was an old, grey-headed man, upon the borders of the grave — a poor prisoner shut up in Nero’s dungeon at Rome. We might well be willing to endure Paul’s infirmities, and share the cold dungeon with him, if we too might by any means attain unto his good degree. Do not indulge the notion that you can be contented with learning, or learn without discipline. It is not a power that may be exercised naturally, but a science to be acquired gradually. We know this from experience. Brother, hush that murmur, natural though it be, and continue a diligent pupil in the College of Content.”  (Charles Spurgeon — Morning and Evening)

I feel as though I have been a student at the aforementioned ‘College of Content’ for many, many years now and at times, as though I have barely progressed past the elementary teachings and disciplines of this education. I sometimes wonder if I am destined to remain in Contentment Kindergarten for the rest of my life. And then there are these moments, mountaintop moments, when I find myself ever in the sweet embrace of the contentment that comes from the revelation of Jesus Christ, and those moments have marked my heart and left me longing to abide in the fullness of the vision Paul set forth for the Philippians and for us when he said:

“…for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. ¹² I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. ¹³ I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”  (Philippians 4:11b-13 ESV)

When I first heard a sermon on Philippians 4:13, I was at a word of faith church and the message was clear — we are meant to prosper, have a happy life, never to suffer or have pain, never to lack any good thing (meaning health or wealth) BECAUSE we can do and have all things through Christ who strengthens us. Ironic, huh?  The beauty of what Paul is saying in this epistle, and others, is that in the midst of great need or suffering Jesus is more than enough, and that all the ‘things’ of this life, whether we have them in plenty or we don’t have them at all, are still nothing compared the knowledge of Jesus Christ (something that is said over and over again by the saints that have gone before us).

That’s the secret of contentment. The key is the revelation of Jesus and the knowledge of His heart. It’s profoundly simple, but still, like everything with God, there is a journey involved. And with any great pilgrimage, there are mountains and valleys, storms and sunrises, moments when all seems lost and futile and moments of great triumph.  Such is our way with the Lord. Yet, as we are on the Way, Paul says… “I have learned.”  I have learned what the psalmist said is true, that “my flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”  I have learned to be content and completely satisfied no matter what situation I find myself in, whether I am brought low and humbled or whether I abound and prosper, that my reward and treasure is found in Christ alone. Jesus is the source of contentment and a heart that is content is strong.

For me, this last year (or decade) has been about learning contentment in loss, in suffering, and in the chains of a body that will not do what I want it to do.  The fundamental foundation has been set in me for a long time now — there is no question that my greatest treasure is Jesus Christ. Nothing compares to Him, nothing. And all the other things that are dear to me are from Him – He made them, He gave them, He sustains them. Thus it is even ridiculous to think of wanting for anything more than Him.

It’s the moment to moment of fleshing that all out, when the winds come and the storms rage or when all is calm and you’re feeling ‘strong’… it’s in those every day mostly mundane, sometimes dramatic moments of life that we are tested in the school of contentment, or rather in our pressing in for the knowledge of the One who satisfies. And it’s unrelenting… this journey we are on.  It’s unrelenting because it’s a relationship between the One who is worthy of all of our attention and us, the ones He loves and longs to reveal His worth to. Relationship is fluid and in motion, and thus, we must be ever moving forward and ‘pressing on’ as Paul said, if we want a healthy, vibrant relationship with Christ.

What does that look like?  Well, for me, this last week for example, I have been pursuing Jesus by searching out His mercy and compassion. I’ve done that by taking scenes from the Gospels, of which there are plenty, where His mercy and compassion is revealed and meditating on them, imagining the conversation and the scene, asking the Spirit to reveal it to me and bring it to life in my soul and imagination, and ruminating over it again and again day and night.  I’ve also pondered His mercy just in the reality of the rising of the sun, the watering of the earth, the trees that give us oxygen and the lungs of billions breathing that air in and out all over the earth even though many or most of them either despise the One who does all of the above or merely ignore Him.  One morning this week, I wept as the dawn showed its first light because He did it again.  Jesus did it AGAIN!  Another day of giving life to the earth and all its inhabitants because He is patient and kind and is giving us yet another chance to respond to His great worth. His mercies really are new every morning. And that leads to gratitude, to conversation with the King of Kings, to songs of His beauty and of a thankful heart, to sweet communion with Jesus and hopefully, to a heart that is content.

So maybe I am learning. Maybe. Truthfully, I have a long way to go but my heart is set on pilgrimage and fortunately, His mercies are new every morning.

Thou hast not that, My child, but thou hast Me,

And am not I alone enough for thee?

I know it all, know how thy heart was set

Upon this joy which is not given yet.

And well I know how through the wistful days

Thou walkest all the dear familiar ways,

As unregarded as a breath of air,

But there in love and longing, always there.

I know it all; but from thy brier shall blow

A rose for others. If it were not so

I would have told thee. Come, then, say to Me:

My Lord, my Love, I am content with Thee.

(Amy Carmichael — Rose From Brier)

upheld

And when He got into the boat, His disciples followed Him.  And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but He was asleep. And they went and woke Him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” And He said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then He rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm.  And the men marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey Him?”  (Matthew 8:23-27 ESV)

EXCERPT BY AMY CARMICHAEL from Rose From Brier, chapter entitled ”Is All Well?”:   

Lord, is all well? Oh, tell me; is all well?
No voice of man can reassure the soul
When over it the waves and billows roll;
His words are like the tinkling of a bell.
Do Thou speak. Is all well?

Across the turmoil of the wind and sea,
But as it seemed from somewhere near to me,
A voice I know: “Child, look at Calvary;
By the merits of My blood, all is well.”

Whence came the Voice? Lo, He is in the boat;
Lord, wert Thou resting in Thy love when I,
Faithless and fearful, broke into that cry?
O Lord, forgive; a shell would keep afloat
Didst Thou make it Thy boat.

And now I hear Thy mighty “Peace be still”;
And wind and wave are calm, their fury, froth.
Could wind or wave cause Thee to break Thy troth?
They are but servants to Thy sovereign will;
Within me, all is still.

Oh, was there ever light on land or sea,
Or ever sweetness of the morning air,
Or ever clear blue gladness anywhere
Like this that flows from Love on Calvary –
From Him who stilled the sea?

Father and Son and Spirit be adored;
Father, who gave to death our blessed Lord;
Spirit, who speaks through the Eternal Word,
By the merits of His blood, all is well.

The story of the Lord at rest in the boat, and the disciples in fear disturbing that rest, is, I think, like an opal: it has a quiet little flame in its heart.  Are there never times when the fear springs to life, ‘Is all well?’   No voice of man could reassure us.  We must have our Lord’s, His very own…

All had gone well with the ship till suddenly there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full.  What of that beloved soul, how is it faring?…

“Master, Master, carest Thou not?”  It is a needless cry.

“For I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day.”  Storms may lie ahead.  The waves may break into the ship.  There is no promise of a calm passage.  Let us settle it, therefore, in our hearts, as something that cannot be shaken, that our first prayer, our deepest desire, shall not be for blue skies and sweet airs, but that we may always have the ungrieved Presence of the Captain and the Master in our ship.  Lord Jesus, let us tolerate nothing that would keep Thee from resting in Thy Love, come fair weather, come foul.

— Song & Text Above by Amy Carmichael

During my daily devotional time with Jesus, I have been reading a book by Amy Carmichael called, “Rose from Brier.”  It is an incredible little gem, just like anything written by this pure and humble soul of the early 1900′s, written after she was in a tragic accident in 1931 which greatly effected her health.  Amy was essentially bedridden and in confinement for a significant season of her life as a missionary.  She wrote a series of letters during that time which were eventually published as “Rose from Brier,” a work dedicated to those “in a great weariness or in the terrible grasp of pain.”  Those little letters, now the sweet chapters of this book, have been life to my heart these last several days… it’s as though the Lord has reached through time to send me letters from a friend whose heart burns for Him and who knows the secrets of an enduring heart (and some secrets that only one who has suffered physical pain or limitations would know or understand).   The other day I read a chapter called, “Beginning to Sink… Immediately,” which refers to Peter beginning to sink when he saw the wind and waves of the sea but ”immediately” the Lord caught him; and then today, I read another chapter, which seemed to be written with the one above, called, “All is Well,” which eludes to the story of the disciples panicking on the boat with Jesus when He was asleep during the storm.

I love both of these stories in Matthew because they reveal so much about the heart of man AND the heart of God.  Our hearts are so quick to fear, aren’t they?  We so quickly forget Who our God is and Whose Hand it is which upholds us. Sometimes it doesn’t really take much of a wave or a storm to rattle us. It is no accident that in nearly every book of the Bible (and often, a number of times in each book), we read the words “Do not fear” or “Be not afraid.”   This is talking about the fear of the Lord when He (or His angels) come in visitation, but it also refers to our own fears as we follow after Him.  The Lord is so kind to us… He is not surprised by our fears nor is He naive to the fears that we are fed from the womb by the enemy of our souls.  Over and over again, He reminds us, He encourages us, He strengthens us.  He never leaves us or forsakes us.

And we are so readily distracted too, aren’t we?  Peter took his eyes off Jesus and set them instead on the wind and waves around him.  We so often think of faith as though it is a formula… a confession of what God will do or what we believe.  But faith… the kind of faith that Jesus referred to over and over again, whether surprised by the greatness of one’s faith OR pointing out the lack of faith – “ye of little faith”… Jesus was talking about their faith in HIM, that He was in fact God’s own Son and God in the flesh.  He was talking about their sight - that they were seeing God Himself standing right in front of them - but they did not recognize Him (either by completely missing Him or disdaining Him as in the case of the Pharisees OR even for those who sincerely loved Jesus but did not fully recognize who He was yet, and thus missed the fact that He could control those winds and keep Peter afloat, for example).  And for those who are sincere and who are His,  it is with the sweet tenderness of One whose heart longs for you to know and see Him rightly that He says, “o you of little faith, why did you doubt?” but at the same time upholds you with His right hand… that you would not sink into unbelief but know that you indeed belong to Him (and no one can snatch you from His hand - John 10:28).   I love that!

Beloved, He is not surprised by your weakness… His mercies are new every morning and He leads us with cords of lovingkindess so that we can easily find Him in the Way, the Truth, and the Life… He brings us into a spacious place, He enlarges the path beneath us and makes our feet like the feet of a deer that we may be able to climb upon and stand in the high places… He rescues us because He delights in us…  His right hand upholds us and truly, His gentleness makes us great.

EXCERPT BY AMY CARMICHAEL from Rose From Brier, chapter entitled ”Beginning to Sink… Immediately”:

“Beginning to sink… Immediately.”  But even so, for we are all weakness in ourselves, there are times when nothing comes to mind but these words.  They assure us of so much more than they seem to say, that their riches of comfort cannot be condensed into a page.

Chiefly they bring the certainty that there will be no sinking, for Peter never sank. (“When I said, my foot slippeth” – in that very moment – “Thy mercy, O Lord, held me up.”)

“And immediately Jesus stretched forth His hand and caught Him.”  How many seconds lie between a man’s beginning to sink and his sinking?  A single second or less, I suppose, sees one who is beginning to sink under water.  How swift, then, was the movement of Love!

Immediately He made the disciples get into the boat and go before Him to the other side, while He dismissed the crowds. And after He had dismissed the crowds, He went up on the mountain by Himself to pray. When evening came, He was there alone, but the boat by this time was a long way from the land, beaten by the waves, for the wind was against them.   And in the fourth watch of the night He came to them, walking on the sea. But when the disciples saw Him walking on the sea, they were terrified, and said, “It is a ghost!” and they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.”

And Peter answered Him, “Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water.”  Jesus said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus.  But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me.”  Jesus immediately reached out His hand and took hold of him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”  And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped Him, saying, “Truly You are the Son of God.”   (Matthew 14:22-33 ESV)

The use of that word “Immediately” has been life and peace to me of late.  They were troubled, those poor men in the boat. “And immediately He talked with them.”  We know what He said; He has said it to us often.  ["Take heart, it is I.  Do not be afraid."]

How needless their trouble seems to us as we read.  Does ours seem as needless to the heavenly watchers?  Do they wonder about us, as we do about those men, how there could be room for trouble in a ship that was under His command?  (It was He who had constrained them to go to the other side.  It is He who directs our boat now to the Other Side.)  But there is nothing of this wonder in the sweetness of the words of our Lord Jesus when immediately He talked with them.  He understood.

We who know (as I more than ever do now) how upholding dear and loving words can be, when a friend who understands does not blame, but just understands even the trouble that need not be, and comforts it – we can find honey in this honeycomb: “Immediately, Jesus stretched forth His hand and caught Him.”  “My soul hangeth upon Thee: Thy right Hand upholdeth me.”  “Immediately He talked with them.”  “Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth.”

— Text Above by Amy Carmichael

 

** Picture is Rembrandt’s “Christ in the Storm on the Lake of Galilee”

 

all the paths of the Lord are loving and faithful

“All the paths of the Lord are loving and faithful” Psalm 25:10… All does not mean “all – except the paths I am walking in now,” or “nearly all – except this especially difficult and painful path.” All must mean all.  So, your path with its unexplained sorrow or turmoil, and mine with its sharp flints and briers – and both our paths, with their unexplained perplexity, their sheer mystery – they are His paths, on which He will show Himself loving and faithful.  Nothing else; nothing less.”   (Amy Carmichael)

The picture to the right is by Angie Smith (don’t you love this!) - from her blog “Bring the Rain”

“To You, O Lord, I lift up my soul.  O my God, in You I trust; let me not be put to shame; let not my enemies exult over me.   Indeed, none who wait for You shall be put to shame…”   Ahhh, Psalm 25 – what a great song to the Lord.  Did you know that it is an acrostic psalm, meaning it was written with each verse in alphabetical order?  The first letter of each verse begins with the 22 Hebrew letters in alphabetical order.  It’s a beautiful example of the inspired poetry of the Holy Spirit (with David as His pen), perhaps so that the Hebrew would commit this one to memory more readily.   

In the last many months, unlike any other time in my journey with Christ, I feel as though the primary instruction of the Holy Teacher to my own heart is one of recognizing, trusting and treasuring His sovereign and loving leadership in every season of life (and into eternity)… even, and maybe especially in this particularly difficult season in my own life.  I believe that when at last we stand as one Bride upon that sapphire pavement before our Redeemer and King, the chorus that will rise above all the rest as we fall down before the throne is that ‘truly, Jesus has led our lives, yea all of history, with cords of lovingkindess… that all the paths, everything under His leadership (which according to Colossians 1 is literally EVERYTHING), all the paths and ways of the Lord are loving, faithful, just and true. ’ 

Then I heard what sounded like a great multitude, like the roar of rushing waters and like loud peals of thunder, shouting: “Hallelujah.  For our Lord God Almighty reigns! Let us rejoice and be glad and give Him glory!”  (Revelation 19:6) 

And if you read all that comes before that great Hallelujah, you will know that this song does not come from half-hearted saints but from those who have truly experienced every mountain, valley, twist and turn in their journeys through this age — and by those who have come through that journey loving Jesus more, clinging not to the wide path of comfort and ease but the narrow way of knowing Christ and valuing His worth above all else,  and trusting Him more with every step, misstep, leap, fall, and bound along the way.  The Bride will know and proclaim on that Day (and hopefully before that Day) that surely ‘all the paths of the Lord are loving and faithful.’  And that word, “all,” is no accident of pen – it should not be underestimated or labeled as hyperbole. No!  We must recognize that the Holy Spirit really meant it when He chose that specific word to define the very scope of God’s faithful and just leadership!   All really does mean ALL.

I have been loving the psalms lately because if you look closely, there are great truths expressed in those ancient melodies.  Suffering, pain, trials, tears… it’s a tricky subject in the body of Christ today, understandably so.  It seems like there is a growing expression of the Church (at least, in the West) that would like to somehow do away with those things entirely (anything to do with suffering), and to act as though our lives under heaven will be full of ONLY comfort, bliss, and ”blessing” once we are saved.  I have looked closely at the people sitting in the audiences of those great mega churches shown on Christian TV stations and often wondered what will happen when the inevitable troubles of this life come knocking on their doorstep (or even more, at the end of the age).  Will they be prepared?  How will their hearts stand when the heat goes up in the furnace?  Some of the church has even taken hold of an erroneous view of what is called ‘dominion theology’ (a very utopian view of this age), which in turn is steeped deeply within their understanding of who they are and who God is.  In their view, troubles may come knocking but our job is to somehow not answer the door.  (Of course, the problem with this is that troubles aren’t so polite as to wait for the door to open… also, it reveals a radical misunderstanding of the benefits, in their absolution, of the atonement here in time versus in the Age to come, but that’s a different subject entirely.)   The bigger, more obvious issue with all of the above is that a promise of no pain or troubles can only be true for a very small portion of people in history (modern) and even on the earth today, and only for a very short span of their lives (e.g. it may fly with a 20-30 maybe even 40-something middle class or wealthy, predominantly caucasian crowd living in suburban America or in the West somewhere (MAYBE), but for anyone else who lives anywhere else in the world, the ideas above would probably seem absurd.  Furthermore, it is likely that even those 20-40 somethings in the West when they have merely aged a little bit, lost a little bit, hurt a little bit, etc, will inevitably begin to see the holes in the teachings or ideologies above, if they ever believed them at all).   I am troubled by these ideologies, not just because they are massively destructive to the soul and abhorrently self-serving and self-centered, but mostly because they are not founded upon and rooted in the understanding or knowledge of God Himself, but around our own understanding of the world around us and our own desires (which as Christians, should be shaped by the first thing I mentioned – knowing God).  We do well to remember the wisdom of the third Proverb, which most Christians and probably even a lot of unbelievers know so well…

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In ALL your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.”  (Proverbs 3:5-6)

Our faith is supposed to be about a Person… everything else is secondary.   To be fair, I have also heard and read a great many sincerely stated ideas on suffering where suffering, pain, loss, trials (whether for the sake of the gospel or just as the experiences of life) are elevated and extolled much more than they deserve to be.  This isn’t hard to do because our troubles, no matter how they come, are not to be extolled at all.  Suffering is NOT our friend… ever.  Our trials, in and of themselves, do not make us stronger or greater.  The truth be told, they have no power at all (though it may seem they have all the power in the world).  They are nothing but circumstance or happenstance – we know the Master of circumstance.  It is God who has the power… it is Jesus, there with us in the midst of the storm, who is our friend… and it is Christ alone who takes ALL things, even the worst things, and makes us like Him through them and Who also heals us from them– for our good and His glory (Romans 8).  (i.e. Trusting in His leadership does not mean I do not war against sickness or ask for and contend for miraculous deliverance, healing, and change… do not misunderstand me in that. It just means that no matter what, my trust in Him is unshakable and my knowing that He is good is impenetrable.  I know that nothing can separate me from His love, and assuredly, love can suffer long without wavering or growing cold.)

Going back to the psalms and what I love about them… they speak so honestly of pain, suffering and even sin, and in a very real and raw way; yet if you read on to the very next verse or stanza, you see that the Writer ALWAYS sings of the greatness of God with his next breath.  God’s glory and greatness is over all the rest — that is the point.  There in the midst of the psalms is the paradox that Jesus left His friends (and us) with just before He walked the long road of Calvary (John 16):

“In this world, you will have tribulation.  But take heart, I have overcome the world.”

“If I ask to be delivered from trials rather than for deliverance out of it to the praise of His glory; if I forget that the way of the cross leads to the cross and not to a bank of flowers; if I regulate my life on these lines, or even unconsciously my thinking, so that I am surprised when the way is rough and think it strange, though the word is, “Think it not strange,” “Count it all joy,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.”   (If – Amy Carmichael)

I love that the pattern of songs laid out in Word include both the triumphs and the pain in our own stories, all of which point to the greater truth that “God is great and greatly to be praised.”   I love how Job asks, in chapter 19, that his life be written down (all of it – not just the good parts) in a book and engraved on a rock forever… it’s just a divine moment in the midst of incomprehensible pain where his friends have accused him, his wife has cursed him and God, he’s lost everything, and he’s more alone than ever and suddenly, Job realizes something so glorious – that his life, including all of its pain and unimaginable trials, is woven together by One who is greater and able to take that story and turn it all around for something better, something more.  His life begins and ends upon the Rock of Ages and His Redeemer lives… He lives, He is great, and Job believes.   I still remember like it was yesterday when God brought these words of Job to life in my soul almost ten years ago.  I saw a picture of my own story written in tears, in blood, in sweat, sometimes in pencil, and just as soon as each word was penned, the Lord would go over the lettering with His own blood which then turned to gold (permanent and glorious) upon the scroll… and that scroll was as old as time and its length was beyond comprehension.  And I realized that it wasn’t my story at all, it was His story.  In the end, when the final pages of our stories are written, we will at last see the reason we had a story at all – we will see God…

“Oh that my words were written!  Oh that they were inscribed in a book!  Oh that with an iron pen and lead, they were engraved in the rock forever! For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last He will stand upon the earth.  And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God…”  (Job 19:23-26)

I have never met a person in my years on the earth who has not experienced pain or tribulation in one way or another (have you?) — whether by their own doing or mistakes, by someone else’s hand or mistreatment, because of circumstances that have happened to them or around them, from the hand of our very real Enemy ‘who prowls around like a roaring lion’, or as a result of real persecution for their faith.   Jesus told us, ‘you WILL have tribulation.”   It seems to me, in my limited understanding, that where we are derailed in our faith is not as much in the tribulation itself, but in our ‘making much of the tribulation’ (rather than of God).  I am totally guilty of this myself.  But sometimes I wonder, maybe… just maybe, we wouldn’t need to have a perfect understanding of or explanation for suffering, pain or loss, if our understanding of God was sound, true, and most of all, first and most important.   In this way, we can say, like Paul, that we are content (full of joy and hope) in all circumstances…

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through Him who gives me strength.  (Philippians 4:11-13)

So I hope somehow that my ramblings (which in the middle of the night while not sleeping are assuredly just ramblings) might give this testimony:  though this segment of my personal journey is trying and difficult, I can truly say that I am content.   After three very difficult months, my heart is more sure of Him and my faith is more steadfast than ever.  I believe His ways are true, just and faithful.  I can say here and now, even though my eyes see dimly, that I trust His leadership — even in the midst of chronic pain, even when I cry out to Him for relief and His answer does not come to relieve that pain.  I know His answer will come, and even that it has come, in ways I did not realize at the time and in ways I did not know that I needed.  My eyes are on the King and thus, even in my weakness, He is strong and mighty.  Even though there might be tears upon my cheeks at times, my heart is filled with overwhelming and strengthening joy.  Even though my body is weak, I am stronger and more alive than ever.  Even when I do not understand, I still know Jesus.  What else is there?  And thus I do not rely on my own understanding, but on Jesus Christ alone.  And He is faithful, always faithful… to the end.

Make me to know Your ways, O LORD;
   teach me Your paths.

Lead me in Your truth and teach me,
   for You are the God of my salvation;
   for You, I wait all the day long…

He leads the humble in what is right,
   and teaches the humble His way.
All the paths of the LORD are steadfast love and faithfulness,
   for those who keep His covenant and His testimonies.  (Psalm 25)

“Whatever outward appearances may threaten we should settle it steadfastly in our minds that while grace enables us to obey the Lord’s will we need not fear that Providence will cause us any real loss. There shall be mercy in every unsavoury morsel, and faithfulness in every bitter drop; let not our hearts be troubled, but let us rest by faith in the immutable covenant of Jehovah, which is ordered in all things and sure. Yet this is not a general truth to be trampled upon by swine, it is a pearl for a child’s neck. Gracious souls, by faith resting upon the finished work of the Lord Jesus, keep the covenant of the Lord, and, being sanctified by the Holy Spirit, they walk in his testimonies; these will find all things working together for their good…”  (The Treasury of David – Charles Spurgeon)

Hallelujah, the Lord God Almighty reigns!

  

Calvary Love

The last few days have been rough to say the least (both Noah and I have been sick, whatever I have has been particularly brutal probably because my body was already really weak, and my neck has been in a flare, etc, etc).  So because of a very weird sleep schedule over the last few days, medicine, pain and generally feeling icky, I wasn’t really able to sleep last night.  Thus, after a very long night, I was reading and praying, and I stumbled upon these gems from the heart of a missionary to India during the late 19th and early 20th century named Amy Carmichael.  Most of you have probably heard of her.  I have been more and more undone by her writings and testimony in the last couple weeks.  This morning, I was reading through some of the infamous “if’s” from her book which was based on meditations and conversations about the 1 Corinthians 13 definitions of love entitled simply, If; and I was (needless to say) floored, humbled, undone, in awe of Jesus, and completely overwhelmed by the breadths and depths and heights and lengths of Love.  And I’m pretty sure after reading what I am posting below that “I know nothing of Calvary Love.”  Not wanting to be alone in my utter humiliation before Love Incarnate, I thought I’d share some of them with you… you can thank me later : )  I am also including a little explanation from Amy and a snippet of the introduction to the book below (so good). 

[Speaking of the reader being troubled by “then I know nothing of Calvary love” Amy says]:  “St. Paul counted the loss of all things as nothing that he might know Him whom he already knew; and the soul, suddenly illuminated by some fresh outshining of the knowledge of the love of God shown forth on Calvary, does not stop to measure how much or how little it knew of that love before.  Penetrated, melted, broken before that vision of love, it feels that indeed all it ever knew was nothing, less than nothing.”

“That ye may be able to comprehend what is the breadth and length and depth and height and to know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge” – the words are too great for us.  What do we comprehend, what do we know?  Confounded and abased, we enter into the Rock and hide us in the dust before the glory of the Majesty of love – the love whose symbol is the cross.

And a question pierces then: What do I know of Calvary love?

If I have not compassion on my fellow-servant, even as my Lord had pity on me, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I belittle those whom I am called to serve, talk of their weak points in contrast perhaps with what I think of as my strong points; if I adopt a superior attitude, forgetting “Who made thee to differ? and what hast thou that thou hast not received?” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I can easily discuss the shortcomings and sins of any; if I can speak in a casual way even of a child’s misdoings, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I find myself half-carelessly taking lapses for granted, “Oh, that’s what they always do,” “Oh, of course she talks like that, he acts like that,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I can enjoy a joke at the expense of another; if I can in any way slight another in conversation, or even in thought, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I can write an unkind letter, speak an unkind word, think an unkind thought without grief and shame, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If my attitude be one of fear, not faith, about one who has disappointed me; if I say, “Just what I expected” if a fall occurs, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I do not look with eyes of hope on all in whom there is even a faint beginning, as our Lord did when, just after His disciples has wrangled about which of them should be accounted the greatest, He softened His rebuke with those heart-melting words, “Ye are they which continue with Me in my temptations,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I do not feel far more for the grieved Saviour than for my worried self when troublesome things occur, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I know little of His pitifulness [compassion] (the Lord turned and looked upon Peter), if I know little of His courage of hopefulness for the truly humble and penitent (He saith unto him, “Feed My lambs”), then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I deal with wrong for any other reason than that implied in the words, “From His right hand went a fiery law for them. Yea, He loved the people”; if I can rebuke without a pang, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If in dealing with one who does not respond, I weary of the strain, and slip from under the burden, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot bear to be like the father who did not soften the rigors of the far country; if, in this sense, I refuse to allow the law of God (the way of transgressors is hard) to take effect, because of the distress it causes me to see that law in operation, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am perturbed by the reproach and misunderstanding that may follow action taken for the good of souls for whom I must give account; if I cannot commit the matter and go in peace and in silence, remembering Gethsemane and the Cross, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cast up a confessed, repented, and forsaken sin against another, and allow my remembrance of that sin to color my thinking and feed my suspicions, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot catch “the sound of noise of rain” long before the rain falls, and, going to some hilltop of the spirit, as near to my God as I can, have not faith to wait there with my face between my knees, though six times or sixty times I am told “there is nothing,” till at last “there arises a little cloud out of the sea,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I have not the patience of my Saviour with souls who grow slowly; if I know little of travail (a sharp and painful thing) till Christ be fully formed in them, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I sympathize weakly with weakness, and say to one who is turning back from the cross, “pity thyself”; if I refuse such a one the sympathy that braces and the brave and heartening word of comradeship, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot keep silence over a disappointing soul (unless for the sake of that soul’s good or for the good of others it be necessary to speak), then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I can hurt another by speaking faithfully without much preparation of spirit, and without hurting myself far more than I hurt that other, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am afraid to speak the truth, lest I lose affection, or lest the one concerned would say, “You do not understand,” or because I fear to lose my reputation for kindness; if I put my own good name before the other’s highest good, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am content to heal a hurt slightly, saying “Peace, peace,” where is no peace; if I forget the poignant word “Let love be without dissimulation” and blunt the edge of truth, speaking not right things but smooth things, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I fear to hold another to the highest goal because it is so much easier to avoid doing so, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I hold on to choices of any kind, just because they are my choice; if I give any room to my private likes and dislikes, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I put my own happiness before the well-being of the work entrusted to me; if, though I have this ministry and have received much mercy, I faint, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am soft to myself and slide comfortable into the vice of self-pity and self-sympathy; if I do not by the grace of God practice fortitude, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I myself dominate myself, if my thoughts revolve around myself, if I am so occupied with myself I rarely have “a heart at leisure from itself,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If the moment I am conscious of the shadow of self crossing my threshold, I do not shut the door, and in the power of Him who works in us to will and to do, keep that door shut, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot in honest happiness take the second place (or the twentieth); if I cannot take the first without making a fuss about my unworthiness, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If when I am able to discover something which has baffled others, I forget Him who revealeth the deep and secret things, and knoweth what is in the darkness and showeth it to us; if I forget that it was He who granted that ray of light to His most unworthy servant, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I do not give a friend “the benefit of the doubt,” but put the worst construction instead of the best on what is said or done, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot be at rest under the Unexplained, forgetting the word, “And blessed is he whosoever shall not be offended in Me”; or if I can allow the least shadow of a misunderstanding, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I take offense easily; if I am content to continue in a cold unfriendliness, though friendship be possible, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If a sudden jar can cause me to speak an impatient, unloving word, then I know nothing of Calvary love.  For a cup brimful of sweet water cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, however suddenly jolted.

If I feel injured when another lays to my charge things that I know not, forgetting that my Sinless Saviour trod this path to the end, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I feel bitterly toward those who condemn me, as it seems to me, unjustly, forgetting that if they knew me as I know myself they would condemn me much more, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I say, “Yes, I forgive, but I cannot forget,” as though the God, who twice a day washes all the sands on all the shores of all the world, could not wash such memories from my mind, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If one whose help I greatly need appears to be as content to build in wood, hay, stubble, as in gold, silver, precious stones, and hesitate to obey my light and do without that help because so few will understand, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If the care of a soul (or a community) be entrusted to me, and I consent to subject it to weakening influences, because the voice of the world – my immediate Christian world – fills my ears, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If by doing some work which the undiscerning consider “not spiritual work” I can best help others, and I inwardly rebel, thinking it is the spiritual for which I crave, when in truth it is the interesting and exciting, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am inconsiderate about the comfort of others, or their feelings, or even of their little weaknesses; if I am careless about their little hurts and miss opportunities to smooth their way; if I make the sweet running of household wheels more difficult to accomplish, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If monotony tries me, and I cannot stand drudgery; if stupid people fret me and little ruffles set me on edge; if I make much of the trifles of life, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If interruptions annoy me, and private cares make me impatient; if I shadow the souls about me because I myself am shadowed, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If souls can suffer alongside, and I hardly know it, because the spirit of discernment is not in me, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If there be any reserve in my giving to Him who so loved that He gave His dearest for me; if there be a secret “but” in my prayer, “anything but that, Lord,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I become entangled in any “inordinate affection”; if things or places or people hold me back from obedience to my Lord, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If something I am asked to do for another feels burdensome; if, yielding to an inward unwillingness, I avoid doing it, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If the praise of man elates me and his blame depresses me; if I cannot rest under misunderstanding without defending myself; if I love to be loved more than to love, to be served more than to serve, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I crave hungrily to be used to show the way of liberty to a soul in bondage, instead of caring only that it be delivered; if I nurse my disappointment when I fail, instead of asking that to another the word of release may be given, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I want to be known as the doer of something that has proved the right thing, or as the one who suggested that it should be done, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If it be not a simple and a natural thing to say, “Enviest thou for my sake? Would God that all the Lord’s people were prophets,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I do not forget about such a trifle as personal success, so that it never crosses my mind, or if it does, is never given a moment’s room there; if the cup of spiritual flattery tastes sweet to me, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If in the fellowship of service I seek to attach a friend to myself, so that others are caused to feel unwanted; if my friendships do not draw others deeper in, but are ungenerous (to myself, for myself), then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I refuse to allow one who is dear to me to suffer for the sake of Christ, if I do not see such suffering as the greatest honor that can be offered to any follower of the Crucified, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If my interest in the work of others is cool; if I think in terms of my own special work; if the burdens of others are not my burdens too, and their joys mine, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I slip into the place that can be filled by Christ alone, making myself the first necessity to a soul instead of leading it to fasten upon Him, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If when an answer I did not expect comes to a prayer which I believed I truly meant, I shrink back from it; if the burden my Lord asks me to bear be not the burden of my heart’s choice, and I fret inwardly and do not welcome His will, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I avoid being “ploughed under,” with all that such ploughing entails of rough handling, isolation, uncongenial situations, strange tests, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I wonder why something trying is allowed, and press for prayer that it may be removed; if I cannot be trusted with any disappointment, and cannot go in peace under any mystery, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I make much of anything appointed, magnify it secretly to myself or insidiously to others; if I let them think it “hard”; if I look back longingly upon what used to be, and linger on the byways of memory, so that my power to help is weakened, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If the love that “alone maketh light of every heavy thing, and beareth evenly every uneven thing” is not my heart’s desire, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I refuse to be a corn of wheat that falls into the ground and dies (“is separated from all in which it lived before”), then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If the ultimate, the hardest, cannot be asked of me; if my fellows hesitate to ask it and turn to someone else, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I ask to be delivered from trials rather than for deliverance out of it to the praise of His glory; if I forget that the way of the cross leads to the cross and not to a bank of flowers; if I regulate my life on these lines, or even unconsciously my thinking, so that I am surprised when the way is rough and think it strange, though the word is, “Think it not strange,” “Count it all joy,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I covet any place on earth but the dust at the foot of the cross, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

That which I know not, teach Thou me, O Lord, my God. 

By Amy Carmichael 

 

 

****photo of cross above taken from this website****

step by step, He’s leading me

Oh, sing to the LORD a new song!  Sing to the LORD, all the earth. Sing to the LORD, bless His name;  Proclaim the good news of His salvation from day to day. Declare His glory among the nations, His wonders among all peoples.

Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad;  Let the sea roar, and all its fullness; Let the field be joyful, and all that is in it.  Then all the trees of the woods will rejoice before the LORD.
         For He is coming, for He is coming to judge the earth.
         He shall judge the world with righteousness,
         And the peoples with His truth.   Psalm 96:1-3, 11-13

 ” ‘As thou goest step by step I will open up the way before thee.’  He gives us enough light for today, enough strength for one day at a time, enough manna, our “daily” bread.  And the life of faith is a journey from Point A to Point B, from Point B to Point C, as the people of Israel “set out and encamped in Oboth. And they set out from Oboth and encamped at Iye Abarim, in the wilderness…from there they set out and encamped on the other side of the Arnon…and from there they continued to Beer…and from the wilderness they went on to Mattanah, and from Mattanah to Nahaliel, and from Nahaliel to Bamoth, and from Bamoth to the valley lying in the region of Moab.”  So far as we know, nothing happened in these places.  Oboth, Iye Abarim, Arnon, Beer, Mattanah, Nahaliel, Bamoth mean nothing to us.

That immense crowd just kept moving.  They traveled and they stopped and they made camp and they packed up again and traveled some more and made another camp.  They complained. There were so many complaints that even Moses, who was a very meek man, could hardly stand the sight of these whom God had called him to lead.  But all the time God was with them, leading them, protecting them, hearing their cries, goading and guiding them, knowing where they were going and what His purposes were for them and He never left them. 

It is not difficult when you read the whole story of God’s deliverance of Israel to see how each separate incident fits into a pattern for good.  We have perspective that those miserable wanderers didn’t have.  But it should help us to trust their God [and ours].  The stages of their journey, dull and eventless as most of them were, were each a necessary part of the movement toward the fulfillment of the promise.  [Every stage of life is a gift.]  God may replace it [the stage we are in currently] with another gift, but the receiver accepts His gifts with thanksgiving.  This gift for this day.  The life of faith is lived one day at a time, and it has to be lived – not always looked forward to as though the “real” living were around the next corner [or looked back at as though it was only "real" in the past].  It is today for which we are responsible.  God still owns tomorrow.”  — Elisabeth Elliot [brackets added by me to bring context]

When Stephen and I were dating, I remember being at a park or somewhere outdoors on a day when I was really hurting and Stephen trying every three steps to get me to sit down and rest or take a break.  I stubbornly and frustratingly looked at him and said, “No!  Just keep going.”  Poor Stephen was watching my gait and the grimace on my face worsen with every step and lovingly wanted to do anything to make it less severe.  He hadn’t fully discovered that crazy part of my personality that just wanted to reach the finish line and would rather press through the pain and get there quicker than to rest along the way.  Part of that is practical…with osteoarthritis and SED, when you stop, every bone and joint stiffens, aches and throbs with greater measure than before, and it’s ten times harder to get your body to move from point A to point B.  But another part of that is my personality… the stubborn, fight through it, “gotta reach the finish line” part.  (Just ask my mom about trying to snorkel in Mexico – a long time ago, but a funny story).  The last seven years have tempered some of that in me for sure — it’s almost all been involuntary though; sometimes I just can’t keep going now no matter how much everything in me wants to or how hard I try to fight. 

Nowadays, my whole life seems to be measured in steps.  It takes 8 steps to get from our bedroom to the bathroom,  6 from our bedroom to Noah’s room, about 10 from our bedroom to the end of the hall, 5 stairs down to the living room, 8 steps from our living room to the kitchen, and so on.  I find myself calculating every move I make based on the pain I will have to endure or the energy I have left to take each of those steps. Oh how I long for the day when getting ready in the morning doesn’t feel like a climb up and down Mount Everest.  Some days are better… many days aren’t so good… but every day has its numbered and ordered steps.  

Today, as I was walking down the hall and literally reciting verses in my head with every step I took, I began to wonder at how the Lord is teaching my heart about His leadership and His ways even in these little, weak steps from point A to point B.   Step 1: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” Step 2: “Shall tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger or sword?”  Step 3: “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loves us.”  Step 4: “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  Step 5: “So I will not lose heart.”  Step 6: “Though outwardly I am wasting away, inwardly I am being renewed day by day.”  Step 7: “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” 

These last few weeks have been brutal physically.  For 78 days now, I have gone from one flare to another (with crazy things like double ear infections, food poisoning, and hives in between).  Days 1-74 were really bad physically, but my heart and emotions were strong — somehow by the grace of God.  But I have to be honest, about day 75, after not sleeping and with neck pain off the charts, my emotions and my little heart began to unravel.  In the midst of a fountain of tears, in His kindness, the Lord refreshed me and strengthened me anew with His word (which I was desperately clinging to), through my family, and finally of all things, through watching a cartoon with Noah about a crippled lamb who felt like all of life was happening without him because he couldn’t go with his friends to the ‘greener’ pastures and feast on the grass on the higher hills.  Instead, the crippled little lamb had to stay in Bethlehem in the stables while everyone else went on their most ”important” journey.  You can guess what night it was in Bethlehem and which stable the little lamb was resting in.  Tears rolled down my cheeks as the story unfolded by revealing God’s great good and glory revealed to that little lamb staring at the newborn face of God in the flesh. 

We are all of us on a journey, step by step, with Christ… and every step matters. Never has the reality of the faithful leadership of Jesus Christ been so real to me than it has been in these last few weeks.  And I am undone… with love, with worship, with an endless fountainhead of gratitude, and with sobriety.  Our days are numbered… and oh the glory and the trembling that comes with knowing that every step matters.   

“To be confronted with suffering, whether observing it in another or struggling against it with your own aches and pains… to be confronted with affliction is a reminder that something immense and cosmic is at stake: a heaven to be reached, a hell to be avoided, and a life on earth to be lived seriously and circumspectly.”  (Joni Eareckson Tada)

To be confronted with your frailty almost certainly is to be confronted with life’s brevity… as James said in his epistle, “life is a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.”  But it is also a confrontation with the absolute glory, under the leadership of Christ, of every moment of life lived out in this age under heaven.  That our weak “yes” and surrender to the Lord, however faintly it may fall across our lips, means everything eternally.  Even more awesome is the truth that the Lord takes each of our moments and ties them together under the banner of “working all things for good for those who love Him” – that when our lives are surrendered to loving Christ, even our worst moments are strung together with our greatest in an amazing testimony of His great glory and faithfulness.  

So I’m just living inside the beauty and glory of each step, in the present – in today – asking Jesus to have His way in my heart in this very moment, to teach me and show me who He is, and to make me more like Him.  I am strengthened with deep gratitude in the knowing that He is leading me in every step, that He actually “delights” in them, and that He holds all of my tomorrows (for eternity) in His faithful and capable hands.

Trust in the LORD, and do good;
         Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness.
 Delight yourself also in the LORD,
         And He shall give you the desires of your heart. 
         
 Commit your way to the LORD,
         Trust also in Him,
         And He shall bring it to pass.
 He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light,
         And your justice as the noonday. 
         
 Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for Him…

 The LORD knows the days of the upright,
         And their inheritance shall be forever…

The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD,
         And He delights in his way.   (Psalm 37:3-7, 18, 23)

For I am CONVINCED that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.  May our hearts ever meditate upon and sing the song of the great cloud of witnesses that have gone this way before us “Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised.”

trembling…

oh how my heart is trembling tonight after re-reading some of this beloved book by Andrew Murray (excerpt below).  there is no truer definition of the saint than the mark of humility and thus, of Love.  it is the most precious treasure and reality of the human heart, and sadly, that which is rarely found upon the earth.  even more disheartening is that when at last we find that one of whom the world is truly not worthy (heb 11-12), we merely pass him or her by, hardly giving notice to the greatness that is Christ within them (sometimes we even pity them – that’s if we notice them at all)… and instead we are moved and inspired more by the one with the most dynamic spiritual giftings  or the one with the loudest voice waxing eloquent with words that stir our minds and emotions.  what if our modern day heroes aren’t the heroes that we think?  what will we think when the heroes of heaven are discovered to be those who not only was the world not worthy to have in its midst, but those the world – yes, even the Christian world (even you & me) – never even noticed; because their lives were so fully lived in hidden and lowly places before a Bridegroom King Who they actually believed was the only One worthy of affection? what does it look like to live and breathe in the full revelation that God alone is great?  oh Jesus, how I long for the clothing of Love’s humility…oh how I long for You.  i have so, so, so far to go on this journey with You, Lord… how I need You to help me finish this race with my eyes locked on You, Jesus, and You alone; and may any little crown that I might have in my possession in that day be tossed unreservedly at Your feet.   may my life even now and with every passing breath be lived solely at Your feet, Jesus — and not because it is a “worthy” or noble occupation, but because You, Jesus, You alone are worthy.  You alone are great and greatly do I love You -  let me love You still more and more and more and more and more and more and more… until at last I am so hidden with Christ in God that there is no hint of “me” at all.

HUMILITY AND HOLINESS – by Andrew Murray

“Which say, Stand by thyself, come not near to me; for I am holier than thou. These are a smoke in my nose, a fire that burneth all the day.” -Isa. 65: 5

We speak of the Holiness movement in our times, and praise God for it. We hear a great deal of seekers after holiness and professors of holiness, of holiness teaching and holiness meetings. The blessed truths of holiness in Christ, and holiness by faith, are being emphasized as never before. The great test of whether the holiness we profess to seek or to attain is truth and life will be whether it manifests in the increasing humility it produces. In the creature, humility is the one thing needed to allow God’s holiness to dwell in him and shine through him. In Jesus, the Holy One of God who makes us holy, a divine humility was the secret of His life and His death and His exaltation; the one infallible test of our holiness will be the humility before God and men which marks us. Humility is the bloom and the beauty of holiness.

The chief mark of counterfeit holiness is its lack of humility. Every seeker after holiness needs to be on his guard, lest unconsciously what was begun in the spirit be perfected in the flesh, and pride creep in where its presence is least expected. Two men went up into the temple to pray: the one a Pharisee, the other a publican [speaking of the tax collector or recognized sinner]. There is no place or position so sacred but the Pharisee can enter there. Pride can lift its head in the very temple of God and make His worship the scene of its self exaltation. Since the time Christ so exposed his pride, the Pharisee has put on the garb of the publican; and the confessor of deep sinfulness equally with the professor of the highest holiness must be on the watch. Just when we are most anxious to have our heart the temple of God, we shall find the two men coming up to pray. And the publican will find that his danger is not from the Pharisee beside him who despises him, but the Pharisee within who commends and exalts. In God’s temple, when we think we are in the holiest of all, in the presence of His holiness, let us beware of pride. “Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came also among them.” [quote from Job 1]

“God, I thank thee, I am not as the rest of men, or even as this publican.” It is in that which is just cause for thanksgiving, in the very thanksgiving which we render to God… it may [even] be in the very confession that God has done it all, that self finds its cause of complacency. Yes, even when in the temple the language of penitence and trust in God’s mercy alone is heard, the Pharisee may take up the note of praise, and in thanking God be congratulating himself [instead]. Pride can clothe itself in the garments of praise or of penitence. Even though the words, “I am not as the rest of men” are rejected and condemned, their spirit may too often be found in our feelings and language towards our fellow worshippers and fellow-men. Would you know if this really is so… just listen to the way in which Churches and Christians often speak of one another.  How little of the meekness and gentleness of Jesus is to be seen. It is so little remembered that deep humility must be the keynote of what the servants of Jesus say of themselves or each other. Is there not many a Church or assembly of the saints, many a mission or convention, many a society or committee, even many a mission away in heathendom, where the harmony has been disturbed and the work of God hindered, because men who are counted saints have proved in touchiness and haste and impatience, in self-defense and self-assertion, in sharp judgments and unkind words, that they did not each reckon others better than themselves, and that their holiness has but little in it of the meekness of the saints?  In their spiritual history men may have had times of great humbling and brokenness, but what a different thing this is from being clothed with humility, from having a humble spirit, from having that lowliness of mind in which each counts himself the servant of others, and so shows forth the very mind which was also in Jesus Christ.

“Stand by; for I am holier than thou!” What a parody on holiness! Jesus the Holy One is the humble One: the holiest will ever be the humblest. There is none holy but God: we have as much of holiness as we have of God. And according to what we have of God will be our real humility, because humility is nothing but the disappearance of self in the vision that God is all. The holiest will be the humblest. Alas! though the bare-faced boasting Jew of the days of Isaiah [quoted above] is not often to be found, even our manners have taught us not to speak thus, how often his spirit is still seen, whether in the treatment of fellow saints or of the children of the world. In the spirit in which opinions are given, and work is undertaken, and faults are exposed, how often, though the garb be that of the publican, the voice is still that of the Pharisee: “Oh God, I thank Thee that I am not as other men.”

And is there, then, such humility to be found, that men shall indeed still count themselves “less than the least of all saints,” the servants of all? There is. “Love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, seeketh not its own.” Where the spirit of love is shed abroad in the heart, where the divine nature comes to a full birth where Christ the meek and lowly Lamb of God is truly formed within, there is given the power of a perfect love that forgets itself and finds its blessedness in blessing others, in bearing with them and honoring them, however feeble they be. Where this love enters, there God enters. And where God has entered in His power, and reveals Himself as All, there the creature becomes nothing. And where the creature becomes nothing before God; it cannot be anything but humble towards the fellow-creature. The presence of God becomes not a thing of times and seasons, but the covering under which the soul ever dwells, and its deep abasement before God becomes the holy place of His presence whence all its words and works proceed.

May God teach us that our thoughts and words and feelings concerning our fellowmen are His test of our humility towards Him, and that our humility before Him is the only power that can enable us to be always humble with our fellow-men. Our humility must be the life of Christ, the Lamb of God, within us.

Let all teachers of holiness, whether in the pulpit or on the platform, and all seekers after holiness, whether in the closet or the convention, take warning. There is no pride so dangerous, because none so subtle and insidious, as the pride of holiness. It is not that a man ever says, or even thinks, “Stand by; I am holier than thou.” No, indeed, the thought would be regarded with abhorrence. But there grows up, all unconsciously, a hidden habit of soul, which feels complacency [in] its attainments, and cannot help seeing how far it is in advance of others. It can be recognized, not always in any special self-assertion or self-laudation, but simply in the absence of that deep self-abasement which cannot but be the mark of the soul that has seen the glory of God (Job 42: 5, 6; Isa.6: 5). It reveals itself, not only in words or thoughts, but in a tone, a way of speaking of others, in which those who have the gift of spiritual discernment cannot but recognize the power of self. Even the world with its keen eyes notices it, and points to it as a proof that the profession of a heavenly life does not bear any specially heavenly fruits. O brethren! let us beware. Unless we make, with each advance in what we think holiness, the increase of humility our study, we may find that we have been delighting in beautiful thoughts and feelings, in solemn acts of consecration and faith, while the only sure mark of the presence of God, the disappearance of self, was all the time wanting. Come and let us flee to Jesus, and hide ourselves in Him until we be clothed upon with His humility. That alone is our holiness.

Photo source of above photo washing feet:  http://www.yorkblog.com/faith/feet.jpg