Still constant in a wondrous excellence"
(Borrowing these words out of context
from Shakespeare's Sonnet 105, to repurpose
them as a description of my Lord and God)
"Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,
Still constant in a wondrous excellence" (Borrowing these words out of context from Shakespeare's Sonnet 105, to repurpose them as a description of my Lord and God)
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This is a slightly amended version of a post from August 2014. I went searching for it just now because it has become newly meaningful to me. ___________________________________________________________
I've been slowly grasping that Matthew 11:29 is at the very core of the Christian life. It's a variation on "abide in Me" (John 15:4). The yoke analogy goes further in one sense, revealing an intriguing truth: as we work through what's been placed before us, we're not working for God, nor is He working independently of us. We're yoked together as a team. Oxen are co-workers; their master trains and guides them. In the Matthew 11 metaphor, Jesus is our Master but also our Co-worker. He could force the yoke on us, but He doesn't. He waits until our love and reverence for Him compels us to learn His ways. Then He works alongside us, bearing a yoke that has no place on His own neck so that He can carry the heavier part of the load and at the same time let us learn the rhythm of His movements and steps. Some of us oxen take a very, very long time to train. There may be a giant storehouse somewhere containing all the yokes I've torn off or damaged in my rebellion and foolishness. But He isn't angry or dismayed. Only God is holy; the rest of us need a Redeemer.
Just now I was checking a detail on here and noticed this post from March of 2014. It gave me a little twinge, reading that the "treasure hunt" was brand new to me five years ago, and reading the delight I was having in discovering it. The Lord and I still meet this way, and He has shown me many rich and beautiful things. These days I am into noting new cross-references -- related passages that seem to have been overlooked by the publisher of my Bible -- but instead of being an academic distraction (as apparently I might have found it five years ago), this is now an adventure too. But how lovely to have just discovered that the Lord is El Shaddai! Our everything, all we will ever need. What's also remarkable here is the Lord's timing, since just a week or so ago I had the privilege of hearing Charles Price speak at some length on the first half of the book of Romans, addressing this very question of "How can we sin no more?" Last but not least, for the last while I've had the gift (yes, gift, apparently) of repeatedly, exasperatingly coming face to face with my own failure. Lord, You don't ask me to know the way; You are the Way. I know now that You love me. The journey seems long some days, but we are on it together. Your loveliness will sustain me.
This morning, half way to church on the hilly backroads, I saw a huge bank of ominous black clouds. Visually, it was beautiful, the juxtaposition of the land and the dark clouds on a nearly snowless winter day. The layers of colour -- blue, white, grey, brown, gold, black, and even a hint of almost green -- spoke to my heart about my Lord, for it was He who painted this landscape.
But wow, was that a storm coming? I didn't see this in the forecast, but then I had only checked the forecast for my own town, which is at least half an hour away from the church. For a moment I thought, this was a mistake. At this time of year a rain storm could become something much more treacherous. Once inside, I put the weather behind me. At one point near the end of the morning, I looked out the window and saw that the sky was now a grey-white canopy. No more storm looming. There are black clouds over my life right now. A relationship that is precious to me is in danger. I don't know what to do. I can't fix it. There are too many layers. I may be able to buffer the storm in some ways, but whatever happens will have to just play out in the Lord's own timing. Looking back on the year that has just passed, I see the Lord's wisdom in having brought other alarming storms. By His grace, I survived them all; by His grace, each one changed me. I'm not the same as I was a year ago. In some ways I am sadder, but I am more sure of my God, and more trusting of His heart. One of the first things that struck me, as these relationship clouds grew darker recently, was that God Himself knows what this feels like. Relationships that are precious to Him are in danger. God, who can fix anything, is now in the position of waiting for each of us to choose. He will not force His love upon anyone. Waiting hurts. Watching a loved one close doors, even for a time, hurts. I am not meant to be the fulfilment of everything someone was created to be. Of course not. But God is. Imagine how much more it hurts for Him. One thing I know, though. Whether God allows these black clouds over my life to pour, or rain ice, or whether He allows them to soften into a grey-white canopy, He will carry me through them. I am His. He has found me. I have chosen. Last night in The Complete Works of Oswald Chambers, I noticed a book of short prayers entitled Knocking at God's Door. These were from his personal diary, intended for the Lord's ears, but they are simple and profound, and I have much to learn from them. At some point I'll explore them and share what I discover there, but last night this prayer jumped out at me. (I said, What?)
After What?, I asked the Lord to let Oswald hear my reaction to this statement. OK, I don't know if the Lord will comply with that one, but this was my reaction: I can't think of another person who more exemplifies "letting the Lord manifest Himself and His beauty in his outward life" than Oswald Chambers.
Is this what happens when a soul grows ever closer to the Lord in sweet abandon and faith? In becoming caught up in the Lord's beauty like an un-self-conscious child, does one lose awareness of the uplifting effect this union has on others? I hope so. I would love that to be me one day. I know right now this is not me, because much of what people around me hear is about what isn't and what has to be changed and what has failed. The release to the sort of Christ-freeing freedom that rings through Oswald Chambers' works and life story cannot come from me, but from the Lord in me. Perhaps this will begin in earnest as I look through His eyes at the what isn't and what has to be changed and what has failed, believing like a joyful child that all is possible through my Lord, and that He is the Master of what is and isn't necessary, and I can rest in this. This is something I originally posted here at the end of May 2015 (the original title was "I love You"). It's deeply personal, but I know I'm not the only one who feels this way about our Lord, so in case He wishes to use it to speak to someone, I will take the risk of sharing it (and my heart) again. Every word of this is still how I feel. I am in some ways more of a mess than ever at the moment, but my Lord is at work, and I suppose a work site can be a messy place at times. Yours, Lord.
This is an excerpt from a post from September 2014. I needed to hear this today; perhaps you do too. Lord, please use this as You see fit. I learned by accident (i.e. googling) that the concept of mindfulness is considered by some Christians to be worldly and even harmful. I suspect this is because mindfulness is a principle greatly in focus now within psychology and self-help spheres, and also because this principle is central to certain mystic religions. If "mindfulness" makes you think of these things, I ask you to set those images aside for a moment, to consider mindfulness from a Christian perspective.
I would like to propose to you that mindfulness is an inherent part of the character of God. If modern psychology and eastern religions have discovered mindfulness in some form, it's not by accident. They've adopted it -- and adapted it -- but God got there first. Why am I talking about this? Because it's part of learning to rest in who God is, and to walk calmly in our relationship with Him. ...Jesus is always mindful. Think about this. There are over seven billion people in the world. He knows everything that's going on in and around each of them. If He's in relationship with you, one of these over seven billion people, He is 100% there with you and for you, 100% of the time. You have His undivided attention, just as all His other beloved ones have. As Hudson Taylor said, Jesus seeks communion with you at all times. On earth, as a man, Jesus practiced mindfulness as well. He had no qualms about entering into conversation with social pariahs. He met people exactly where they were. He enjoyed food and wine and fellowship so much that some misunderstood and called Him a party boy, or the first century equivalent. Yet He lived in quiet dignity, both as a member of His community and in continuous communion with His Father. This communion was so pure, so steady, He always knew exactly what was on His Father's heart. ...Mindfulness means to throw yourself fully into what you've been given to do. To notice what the evening breeze feels like on your skin. To lose yourself in prayer, and in delight in Him. To give hugs, to make honest eye contact, to shake hands like you mean it. To listen attentively for the Lord's whisper. To get your work done every day, and then to rest. To keep learning new things. It means to live the life He has given you as though it's a rare treasure, one you can never get back if you let the days and minutes float away meaninglessly. Mindfulness, to a Christian, is first and foremost mindfulness of the Beloved. To surrender all to Him; to respond to Him all day long, so that out of this communion every action and thought becomes worship. To let Him live HIS life through us fully, by not thwarting Him with sin and silliness. Who would intentionally stand in the way of the Author of life? Oh foolish me, that's exactly what I keep doing. Dear Lord, teach me mindfulness. Teach me You, Jesus. This verse was given to me today in answer to a question. The asker (me) was feeling very alone and unsure of herself; the question was personal, but I will say that it was in the general category of "Why am I here?"
The rest of this story is found here. I noticed this verse recently because I've started pencilling in "missing" cross-references in the margins of my Bible, and this verse reminded me not only of what Ruth said to her mother-in-law, Naomi, but it struck me as the mirror of what Jesus would say many years later: "where I am, there My servant will be also" (John 12: 26b). So, the verse from 2 Samuel 15 was the answer to my question, because really it's the answer to most deep questions. How do I know what the Lord wants? What's important in life? How can I bring God glory? Charles Price once said, "How do you know who is a servant of Jesus? 'Because [says Jesus] his preoccupation is to be where I am.'" The Lord Himself is the Lord's agenda for each of us. It's not a particular task or outcome or mission -- it's Him. Reposted from August 2014 because I needed to hear this again (and perhaps you do too). ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him.
Hebrews 11:6 It's interesting to read in Hebrews 11:6 that believing He is a rewarder of those who seek Him is actually a vital part of what demonstrates faith to Him. I had never noticed this before. I have no trouble anymore believing that He is. I did for a while, but He met me there; I have a great "Thomas" story. Now He's meeting me in part two -- believing that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him. For some reason, it's been at least as hard as part one. Maybe it's because of low self-esteem? If so, it may mean I subconsciously equate reward with performance, even in spiritual things. Why does He care so much that I know He is my rewarder that He counts it as a key component of what faith looks like? Wow, the answer to that question will reveal a lot. It's NOT that He is a rewarder of my performance. He is a rewarder of my seeking Him. He is the Lover watching intently for the footsteps of His beloved; when He catches a glimpse of her rushing towards Him, He is overcome with joy. "Part one" of faith as described in Hebrews 11:6 is the introduction part, where we say "yes" and begin to find out more about this wonderful Person who has called us. "Part two" is the binding together part, where we get to know the heart of the wonderful Person Himself, letting Him gradually unveil to us how very deeply He loves us. This is the reward! He is the Reward, and the Rewarder. Hooray! Part two will take all of eternity. Today is a very, very good day to start. This just happened:
I'm trying to finish some work that's due tomorrow, I'm not feeling very well, and going to bed half an hour early last night backfired (I woke up at 4 a.m.). It has not been a good day. All day long I've asked the Lord for help, but things have kept getting worse, and the chip on my shoulder has kept growing. Me (in exasperation): I can't hear You! If You're trying to tell me something encouraging... I can't hear You! If You're trying to tell me something's wrong... I can't hear You! (pause) The Lord (in a whisper): That's because your heart's turned off. (Hmm. Well. That I heard.)
I read this last night as I was trying to weigh something out before the Lord. It was a struggle between two giants, and I believe the correct giant won.
The statement "Beware of talking about abandonment if you know nothing about it" seemed to be aimed right at me. In all fairness, though, it's a process. We begin by abandoning all that God has brought to our awareness to abandon. At the time we believe it's our "all" that we've abandoned to God, but as we continue with Him, He puts choices in our path that challenge us to toss our calculations out the window and bank everything on Him, to "err on the side of" His integrity. Gradually (or maybe suddenly), we will begin to live in that place Oswald speaks of, where the consequence of abandonment never enters our mind, because we are so caught up with the Lord Christ, so aware that every abandonment is as a minuscule speck by contrast with His own. I can guarantee you that a person doesn't just show up at this place one day without having been brought through various impossible tests. "For You have tried us, O God; You have refined us as silver is refined" (Psalm 66:10). In my own case, I have no idea what happens next as a result of yesterday's spiritual battle. Perhaps that's the point. It's not up to what I know; it's up to God's infinite wisdom and grace, working out His own great design of integrity within my little committed life.
At first glance, this statement simply seems to mean, "First we ask for an answer, then we wait to receive the answer." Which of course is true.
In the middle of some very definite waiting of my own, I have been made to understand that the waiting has a purpose deeper than testing and correction, even deeper than learning to trust God and wait on His timing. I now believe that through this sometimes interminable-seeming waiting, God's primary focus is on revealing His own heart. "Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful," says Hebrews 10:23. Hoping without wavering is virtually impossible when you see your whole world churning like a cyclone. I find that telling myself to remain calm and hopeful only adds to the stress of a crisis, because when fear trickles in despite everything, I inevitably spend the next day or two reprimanding myself for having let my God down yet again. Was the writer of Hebrews more fearless and unwavering than most of us? Possibly, but I think the key is at the end of this statement: for He who promised is faithful We are to put our focus not on hope, but on the Object of our hope. Whatever He has revealed about Himself is true, regardless of whether we're experiencing it to be true just yet. This is the holy "place" of waiting. It's not about how unwavering we are. In fact, the other day God actually used a particular scripture passage to tell me that He would much prefer to have me simply come to Him and say, "I'm afraid!" He already knows I'm afraid, so this makes perfect sense -- honesty is a wonderful place to start. So, God's focus is not on our unwaveringness, it's on our learning to trust that He truly is who He says He is. This is one of the reasons we're so often made to wait. If I don't yet know a particular thing about His nature by experience, I can be very sure He wants to teach this to me. It can (believe me) take the better part of a lifetime to move from an intellectual understanding of God's faithfulness or love or peace to a visceral, personal "now I know this about You!" Have you noticed? Oswald Chambers actually refers to the "definite waiting" as part of prayer itself. Not surprising, since prayer is not just a means of requesting things from God, it's the means by which we may know God. ("Sustainer of the weary," part two)
_____________________________________________ The Lord God has given Me the tongue of disciples, That I may know how to sustain the weary one with a word. He awakens Me morning by morning, He awakens My ear to listen as a disciple. The Lord God has opened My ear; And I was not disobedient Nor did I turn back. Isaiah 50:4-5 This Messianic passage, which the Lord pointed out to me several days ago, has sparked an epiphany. This is the Christian life. Yes, I know -- I've described several things that way before. There are indeed a number of wonderful pictures of the Christian life in scripture, in nature, in daily experiences, in relationships... Yet this literally is the Christian life, because Jesus is telling us here what His earthly relationship with the Father looked like. In telling us what His own spiritual life looked like, He is revealing the life He calls us to live, in and through Him. The part of the above passage that I find particularly "epiphanic" (nobody really uses that word, but it fits) are these lines from verse 4 He awakens Me morning by morning, He awakens My ear to listen as a disciple. There are two aspects that strike me. First, echoing what Hudson Taylor said, Jesus is the initiator of our communion. HE awakens me. HE leans in to greet me. If I can't always perceive this nudge, I can ask Him to begin heightening my awareness; or, I can simply accept His nudge as fact, and respond as though I did perceive it. The second aspect is at least as astonishing. He Himself trains me, if I am willing. One-on-one discipleship training can't begin in earnest until He truly has my attention. Heaven knows what course of preparation He may take me through to get me to the point where He truly has my attention. Seeing that Jesus' walk with the Father, and ours with Jesus, is a response changes everything. Picture it as a waltz. In a waltz, the leader leads and the follower follows. The follower actually follows by gracefully stepping back, out of the way of the leader's carefully placed strides. It's only when the two partners move together as a seamless unit, in confident synchronization, that the dance becomes beautiful. He initiates. Will we respond? And without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him.
Hebrews 11:6 It's interesting to read in Hebrews 11:6 that believing He is a rewarder of those who seek Him is actually a vital part of what demonstrates faith to Him. I had never noticed this before. I have no trouble anymore believing that He is. I did for a while, but He met me there; I have a great "Thomas" story. Now He's meeting me in part two -- believing that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him. For some reason, it's been at least as hard as part one. Maybe it's because of low self-esteem? If so, it may mean I subconsciously equate reward with performance, even in spiritual things. Why does He care so much that I know He is my rewarder that He counts it as a key component of what faith looks like? Wow, the answer to that question will reveal a lot. It's NOT that He is a rewarder of my performance. He is a rewarder of my seeking Him. He is the Lover watching intently for the footsteps of His beloved; when He catches a glimpse of her rushing towards Him, He is overcome with joy. "Part one" of faith as described in Hebrews 11:6 is the introduction part, where we say "yes" and begin to find out more about this wonderful Person who has called us. "Part two" is the binding together part, where we get to know the heart of the wonderful Person Himself, letting Him gradually unveil to us how very deeply He loves us. This is the reward! He is the Reward, and the Rewarder. Hooray! Part two will take all of eternity. Today is a very, very good day to start. Recently a sister in Christ mentioned to me the British missionary Hudson Taylor (1832-1905), whose biography she's reading. I found a page about him online, where it said he had been greatly influenced by the following thought:
It turns out this is a paraphrase, but the progression really struck me. I've been stuck for some time at the third lesson. Not stuck in it, stuck just outside of it. I know the "never absent" part well, but my experience with "counted upon" is waffly, because in some areas He has fairly regularly let me fall, with no clear solutions in sight.
It turns out there's method to His madness, if I may use the expression. And it's the most amazing honor. Good grief no, hovering in mid-air having had all the rugs pulled out from under you does not feel like an honor. But learning to count upon the Lord Jesus as never absent is an exceedingly holy lesson. Abraham learned it on Mount Moriah. David learned it wrestling with lions and bears. Oswald Chambers learned it from four years of agonizing spiritual wilderness. Show me a saint who remains steadfast, joyful, and calmly focused on the purposes of the Lord even as the world is collapsing, and I'll show you a saint who has learned by some type of personal trial of fire that the Lord is always faithful. As I was returning on Saturday from an errand, I passed a self car wash. Nearby (presumably a parent was busy washing the car), there were two children. One was a big sister; the other was small child of about one, who had clearly just learned to walk. The big sister was excitedly putting her arms out to her little brother as he walked towards her. It made me laugh with delight. Not two minutes later, at the end of the next street, I passed a father teaching his child to ride a bike. This time it made me want to cry... Oh, my Father. I get it. You took me past these scenes as a picture of You and me. You're not mad at me for falling. And You have always been faithful. Even when I've felt like You've left me alone to fail. What if a mother never let go long enough for her child to learn to walk? What if a father hung onto the back of the bike forever? I needed to fail to see that You have been asking me to let go of what I thought I knew, and to depend on You alone. To see how deeply my disobedience and foolishness dishonors You. To let this break my heart. When I was a spiritual babe in arms, You let me sleep, unaware of these things. As I began to grow and learned to cherish You more and more, You began to pull Your hand off the back of the "bike." Now you want me to ride, to walk, unaided by anything but Your power and love. My human father wasn't able to teach me to ride a bike; he couldn't bring himself to let go and watch me fall. It took a friend who thought I was crazy not to know how to ride a bike yet to teach me. She laughed at my spills, but she also let go, and I finally learned to ride. You are not like her. You don't laugh at me or think I'm crazy not to know certain things yet. But You do teach us the hard lessons when we're willing to learn. Thank You, precious Father, for the beginning of this holy lesson. I've fallen. It hurts. But You will sustain me. Like my human father, You will be always there to cleanse the wound, and to administer Your holy version of band-aids, salve, and a hug. "Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Matthew 11:29 I could almost subtitle this "Two clocks, continued," because it's very much related to the thoughts in my July 22 post, which concluded with the above verse. I've been slowly grasping that Matthew 11:29 is at the very core of the Christian life. It's a variation on "abide in Me" (John 15:4). The yoke analogy goes further in one sense, revealing an intriguing truth: as we work through what's been placed before us, we're not working for God, nor is He working independently of us. We're yoked together as a team. Oxen are co-workers; their master trains and guides them. In the Matthew 11 metaphor, Jesus is our master but also our co-worker. He could force the yoke on us, but He doesn't. He waits until our love and reverence for Him compels us to learn His ways. Then He works alongside us, bearing a yoke that has no place on His own neck so that He can carry the heavier part of the load and at the same time let us learn the rhythm of His movements and steps. Some of us oxen take a very, very long time to train. There may be a giant storehouse somewhere containing all the yokes I've torn off or damaged in my rebellion and foolishness. But He isn't angry or dismayed. Only God is holy; the rest of us need a Redeemer. "Our Lord does not pretend we are all right when we are all wrong. The Atonement is a propitiation whereby God through the death of Jesus makes an unholy man holy." Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest (classic), December 8 I just spent a thought-provoking evening being pulled out of my comfort zone.
The day began very, very badly. Long story short, I eventually found Louie Giglio's newest online sermon, "Fear Must Fall," which I posted here. You would think this message would have been enough to snap me back into God's perspective (He is big, He is Lord, I am His, stop panicking), but it wasn't. Nevertheless, I will be taking Louie's advice about listening to Psalm 23 right before I go to bed and when I get up in the morning. For forty days, he recommends. What a brilliant idea. As I was saying, the day really didn't get much better. The reasons aren't random or silly, they're very real -- but that's beside the point. ...Is my God God or is He not? I am circling around the story, I realize. Thanks for your patience. I'm finally at the point about this evening. After dinner, I got out my Bible and notebook. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to have a Bible study or just pray. Prayer seemed like the right place to start. The next thing I knew, I was in His presence, crying inconsolably. As I poured out my heart to Him, a random old wound crossed my mind. I have no idea where it came from or why it chose tonight to revisit me. It was something one of my ex's sisters had written to me upon learning of our engagement. She said she hoped I wouldn't break his heart the way some other person had. A very misguided thing to say. By "misguided" I mean horrible. I suddenly got the notion to try to find that old letter. I got down my two boxes of memoribilia from a shelf and pulled out the letters. I didn't find the one from my ex's sister, but I found many other things, including stacks and stacks of letters from my ex. I read a few of them. I had forgotten how much he used to seem to like me. I had also forgotten that he sometimes used to talk about the Lord. He was in Christian ministry, so I guess that would make sense. There's lots I can't or won't fill in here, but never mind. I was fascinated to read a few of his old letters. I also found several letters from a friend who became a Baptist pastor. He was quite a guy, with a poetic soul and a quirky sense of humor. Some his letters opened with greetings like, "Hello, you little trouble-maker." He glued Charlie Brown comic strips to the top of some of the pages. One of the cartoons made me laugh so hard I almost fell over. His envelopes were an extension of his letters -- "JESUS DIED SO THAT YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO," one of the envelope flaps read. I found some other things as well. A playful photo of me with an old friend I love but have all but lost touch with. A treasure trove of letters from my father, which I will look at another day. And the letter my mother sent me when my father suddenly became very ill. The letter itself gave no real hint of urgency, but the envelope was marked "SPECIAL DELIVERY." I was on a plane shortly afterwards, to visit him. He died four months later. The end of the evening was just as unusual as the part I've just related. A praiseful comment Louie Giglio had made somewhere about Ravi Zacharias led me to listen to one of Dr. Zacharias' talks ("Toward an Evangelical Understanding of Postmodernism and Mission"). The end of the talk was particularly mind-boggling. I found his ministry's website and bookmarked it; I also added it to the list of resources on the "links" page here. What does any of this have to do with anything? Well, it was Jesus, you see. He HEARD me. I sat at the table and wept, and He replied by taking me on a little voyage. First, He reminded me that today did not come out of a vacuum. The joy and pain and humor and bittersweetness of my history is woven into my now. He also reminded me that there have always been people in my world who loved me. Then, He reminded me of my present and my future, which is where Dr. Zacharias comes in. The motto on his ministry website is "Helping the thinker believe. Helping the believer think." This is profoundly relevant to me. Jesus took me on this voyage to say, "I know who you are, I care about what you've been through, and I know who you're becoming. Your life has always been precious to Me. Hang in there. Trust Me. I know how it all turns out." He knows who you are, He cares about what you've been through, and He knows who you're becoming. Your life has always been precious to Him. Hang in there. Trust Him. He knows how it all turns out. You may or may not recall that early last January I nearly missed a train when my alarm didn't go off. When it worked the following day, I concluded that there was nothing wrong with it. God had "broken" it, knowing the train was late, because He wanted me to see what He would do next.
My conclusion was premature. God did indeed choose that day as the first time the alarm would fail, but it began acting up regularly not long after. I started looking for a new clock, but it made me sad. The old clock is a Westclox quartz alarm I bought a decade and a half ago, the year before my mother died. Its paint is now somewhat scuffed up in spots, but it keeps perfect time. One day in a second-hand store, I saw a virtually new alarm clock, similar in style to the old one but slightly bigger and with a silver exterior. I recognized the brand as being from Canadian Tire. Not nearly as emotionally satisfying to me as a classic Westclox, but still, a beautiful clock. It was marked $2. I thanked the Lord for this sweet gift and took it home. The new clock has a very functional, VERY loud alarm. I put it on my bedroom dresser and moved the old Westclox to another room. A couple of days later, I was astonished to notice that the new clock had gotten radically off time. I can't remember whether it had gained or lost time, but it was twenty to forty minutes out of sync. I put a new battery in it and reset it to the correct time. This held for a short while, but the intermittent craziness resumed. Disappointed, I wondered aloud if the Lord had really intended that clock for me after all. It was clear now why someone had given it away. I decided that until I could get a proper new clock, I would use both clocks side-by-side. One would keep the correct time; the other would be my alarm clock. I realized this ran a slight risk, since the alarm half of this team was known to be unpredictable, but I figured the odds were still good that it would hold the correct time for eight hours. I placed the two clocks on my dresser. It looks rather curious, two clocks side-by-side, but I quite enjoy the unexpectedness of it. It's been maybe five months now since I did this. For the first few weeks, I kept expecting the newer clock to lose its mind again. This never happened. I know it sounds far-fetched, but the new clock seems to have gotten in sync with the "heartbeat" of the old clock. They work as a team now, keeping perfect time together. If I were to separate them again, I'm quite certain the newer clock would return to its erratic ways and become useless. What good is a great alarm on a clock that keeps bad time? Tonight the metaphor came into focus. The two clocks are a picture of the Christian life. Whatever bells and whistles we may have, we can never keep holy time. Jesus' "heartbeat" regulates our own as we surrender to Him and walk in obedience and trust. Unyoked from Him in daily practice, we would return to our erratic ways and become effectively useless in His work. What good is a "great Christian" who is out of sync with the Lord Himself? We would also lose something very profound experientially, for it's His "heartbeat" that is accomplishing our holy metamorphosis. "Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Matthew 11:29 "...we were burdened excessively, beyond our strength, so that we despaired even of life; indeed, we had the sentence of death within ourselves so that we would not trust in ourselves, but in God who raises the dead[.]"
I Corinthians 1:8b-9 There are some verses that God really likes to bring home. His methods (if I may say this affectionately and with great reverence) are sometimes strange, and often very painful. This past week, out of the blue, I was thrown into an odd test that has altered my view of the world forever. On the surface, I failed this test. I responded as any good athiest might. I balked, I became agitated and incensed, I fretted, I Googled, I bookmarked, I lost sleep, I made official phone calls, I made personal phone calls. A couple of times I broke down in exhaustion. Tonight, having at long last let go of the worry for a while, I found myself focusing on it again. I replied at length this evening to an online news article related to the issue. I was careful in my comments to remember that I am His representative. The Lord let me get these thoughts out of my system. Finally, after I'd said my peace, He whispered -- ever so respectfully, "It's time to stop thinking about this." I am a beloved child of God, caught in an earthly battle that is beyond my strength. I've done all I can for the moment, but I still feel my muscles tied in knots. Perhaps it's time to reflect on something the Lord once said through a wise friend of mine: "Never look for justice in this world, but never cease to give it. If we look for justice, we will begin to grouse and to indulge in the discontent of self-pity – Why should I be treated like this? If we are devoted to Jesus Christ we have nothing to do with what we meet, whether it is just or unjust. Jesus says – Go steadily on with what I have told you to do and I will guard your life. If you try to guard it yourself, you remove yourself from My deliverance. The most devout among us become atheistic in this connection; we do not believe God, we enthrone common sense and tack the name of God on to it. We do lean to our own understanding, instead of trusting God with all our hearts." Yes, Oswald. Guilty as charged. And now what I must do, since you put it so aptly dear brother, is to go steadily on with what Jesus has told me to do. He will guard my life. If I try to guard it myself, I remove myself from His deliverance. Strong words, but meant in kindness, because these words are intended to send me to running to His mighty arms, and to keep me there. He is not just the commander of the battles He places us in, He is the victor. ...so that we would not trust in ourselves, but in God who raises the dead. A nightmare woke me up just before 5 this morning. I tried to fall back to sleep, but dawn had other ideas.
My edginess from not having slept well only increased as the morning wore on. Soon every nerve felt frayed, and I began diving down one negative rabbit hole after another. I gave up at about 8:45 and decided to try taking a nap. Fifteen minutes later, I got up, napless and even more on edge. I had a training session in the early afternoon, which went fine once I clicked into student mode. When I arrived home, I knew I would be useless for the rest of the day unless I got that nap I'd tried to take earlier. I am not young, but my life is. I headed upstairs to discover that (oh, joy) chainsaws were buzzing full blast on the street behind me. I closed the window, which screened out a few decibels, and somehow escaped into near-sleep for about twenty minutes. As I opened my eyes, I whispered my built-up pain to Jesus. He replied, in a wordless, deep message that my heart understood. I'll try to put it into words for you. You were not designed for this world. You were designed for the world where I live. You weren't designed to know what to do with evil, or anger, or destruction. You were designed for perfect peace, for overflowing joy, for wholeness, for kindness, for radiance. You've had to compromise what your heart knows is true, just to manage what life throws at you. This is why it hurts. You are in this broken, anguished world for a while, and it will be a battle. I am the mightiest of warriors. I have overcome every broken thing. I am in you; hide in Me. I am to be your perfect peace, your overflowing joy, your wholeness, your kindness, your radiance -- even within the battle. Come nestle close to My heart and know that you are safe. |
Every truth of
Scripture leads to Christ. Charles Price .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
About me "Hephzibah" (Isaiah 62) A yet unfinished story of the Lord's perfect restoration work I live in southwestern Ontario, Canada. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| |||
2 Chronicles 7:16 בָּחַר קָדַשׁ ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| ||| [T]o our
wounds only God’s wounds can speak. from “Jesus of the Scars” by Edward Shillito (1872-1948) Blog archives
August 2022
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...The eyes of the
Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show Himself strong on behalf of those whose heart is perfect toward Him. 2 Chronicles 16:9a (KJ21) |