my ears—faint with age—do but hear
a cacophony of rustling applause,
making my spirit…pause.
the rays of the sun: His warm embrace—
an…antithesis of shadowy gloom:
pure grace;
cause my eyes to…condensate
—moist tears
like water, gathering fears…
…transcending wilderness sorrow,
water in desert fallow.
but…
ah!—the Aspen leaves,
fluttering playfully in the breeze:
the worship of the trees.
Created in His image:
A living compass rose—
Sin-stained, soul-shaken,
Lips but stammering prose.
Wilderness wandering,
Hearts a-fluttering—
God-breathed flesh,
Weakly tottering.
Divine guidance—
Mysterious, but sure.
Courage for the tuning:
For us? An adventure?
Blood-red needle pointing,
Bodies: asking, grasping—toiling.
Spinning ‘round the celestial sphere,
Guilt-ridden, poverty stricken; fear.
In need of calibration,
In search of exploration,
The Place He has prepared—
Topos, but where?
Set north, dimly
Go forth timidly, but then—
Our wills reluctantly succumb
To Words, Spirit, Son!
The map toward Love,
Together journeying forth,
Seeking green pastures, still waters yom | yom
His Light: our torch.
I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith, and love, and every grace;
Might more of His salvation know.
And seek, more earnestly, His face.
‘Twas He who taught me thus to pray,
And He, I trust, has answered prayer!
But it has been in such a way,
As almost drove me to despair.
I hoped that in some favored hour,
At once He’d answer my request;
And by His love’s constraining pow’r,
Subdue my sins, and give me rest.
Instead of this, He made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart;
And let the angry pow’rs of hell
Assault my soul in every part.
Yea more, with His own hand He seemed
Intent to aggravate my woe;
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.
Lord, why is this, I trembling cried,
Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?
“Tis in this way,” the Lord replied,
“I answer prayer for grace and faith.”
“These inward trials I employ,
From self, and pride, to set thee free;
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou may’st find thy all in Me.”
— John Newton (1779)
Godhead here in hiding, who I do adore
Masked by these bare shadows, shape and nothing more,
See, Lord, at Thy service low lies here a heart
Lost, all lost in wonder at the God Thou art.
Seeing, touching, tasting are in Thee deceived;
How says trusty hearing? that shall be believed;
What God’s Son has told me, take for true I do;
Truth Himself speaks truly or there’s nothing true.
On the cross Thy Godhead made no sign to men;
Here Thy very manhood steals from human ken:
Both are my confession, both are my belief,
And I pray the prayer of the dying thief.
I am not like Thomas, wounds I cannot see,
But plainly call Thee God and LORD as he:
This faith each day deeper be my holding of,
Daily make me harder hope and dearer love.
O Thou our reminder of Christ crucified,
Living Bread the life of us for whom He died,
Lend this life to me then: feed and feast my mind,
There be Thou the sweetness man was meant to find.
Bring the tender tale true of the Pelican;
Bathe me, Jesu Lord, in what Thy bosom ran—
Blood that but one drop of has the world to win
All the world forgiveness of its world of sin.
Jesu, whom I look at shrouded here below,
I beseech Thee send me what I thirst for so,
Some day to gaze on Thee face to face in light,
And be blest for ever with Thy glory’s sight.
—St. Thomas Aquinas
Alas! and did my Savior bleed,
And did my Sovereign die!
Would He devote that sacred Head
For sinners such as I?
Was it for crimes that I have done,
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! Grace unknown!
And Love beyond degree!
Well might the sun in darkness hide,
And shut its glories in,
When God, the Mighty Maker, died
For His own creature’s sin.
Thus might I hide my blushing face
While His dear cross appears;
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,
And melt mine eyes to tears.
But drops of tears can ne’er repay
The debt of Love I owe.
Here, Lord, I give myself away;
’Tis all that I can do.
—A Hymn by Isaac Watts
Who is this fair one in distress,
That travels from this wilderness;
And pressed with sorrows and with sins,
On her beloved Lord she leans?
This is the spouse of Christ our God,
Bought with the treasures of His blood;
And her request and her complaint
Is but the voice of every saint:
“O let my name engraven stand
Both on Thy heart and on Thy hand;
Seal me upon Thy arm, and wear
That pledge of Love for ever there.”
“Stronger than death Thy Love is known,
Which floods of wrath can never drown;
And hell and earth in vain combine,
To quench a fire so much divine.”
“But I am jealous of my heart,
Lest it should once from Thee depart;
Then let Thy name be well impressed,
As a fair signet, on my breast.”
“Till Thou hast brought me to Thy Home,
Where fears and doubts can never come,
Thy countenance let me often see,
And often Thou shalt hear from me.”
—A Hymn by Isaac Watts (Gadsby’s Hymnal No. 92)
Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and shew thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not.
—Jeremiah 33:3 (KJV)
–––
Let us call upon Him again, and admit no doubt upon the question of His hearing us and answering us. He that made ear, shall He not hear? He that gave parents a love to their children, will He not listen to the cries of His own sons and daughters?
God will answer His pleading people in their anguish. He has wonders in store for them. What they have never seen, heard of, or dreamed of, He will do for them. He will invent new blessings if needful. He will ransack sea and land to feed them: He will send every angel out of Heaven to succor them, if their distress requires it. He will astound us with His grace, and make us feel that it was never before done in this fashion. All He asks of us is that we will call upon Him. He cannot ask less of us. Let us cheerfully render Him our prayers at once.
—faith’s checkbook (Charles H. Spurgeon)
O, beloved! Hark! Listen to these words again, please:
“He has wonders in store for them.”
“What they have never seen, heard of, or dreamed of, He will do for them.”
“He will invent new blessings if needful.”
“He will astound us with His grace…”
O, my soul…(breathless)
What…wonderful words, what hope we have in our God! He is zealous for us, aye—jealous even!
The evil one wants us to suppose that He is aloof, or disinterested, or insouciant towards us. No. (strong) Does a Friend, a Lover—God in the flesh—die on account of such apathy? No. (tender)
Tell Him! Speak, cry, wail if you must. May we, Together make ourselves prostrate before Him with humble and lowly hearts. He is zealous, may we respond with fervency! The most…disrespectful thing I can imagine (sorrowful at just the very thought of it) is…for us to keep quiet. We’ve been blessed beyond comprehension with His very Spirit. He wants to be One with us! Well then…beloved, let us pour our our spirit for Him. He is good.
They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were tempted, they were put to death with the sword; they went about in sheepskins, in goatskins, being destitute, afflicted—ill-treated.
—Hebrews 11:37 (NASB)
It seems to me that the trials and temptations of this life are preparing us for the life to come, building character for eternity. Have you ever been in a piano factory? Did you go there to hear music? Go into the tuning room and you will say, “This is a dreadful place, I cannot stand it, I thought you made music here.”
“No, we do not produce music here. We make instruments and tune them, and in the process much discord is produced.”
Such is the church of God on earth. The Lord makes the instruments and tunes them down here. A great deal of discord is easily perceptible, but it is all necessary to prepare us for the everlasting harmonies up yonder.
…
The character will be fixed for holiness as though etched in eternal brass. It may be that all the afflictions and temptations that God permits to pass over us here below are forming us for eternal bliss.
—Beside Still Waters (Charles H. Spurgeon)
O, beloved! What a beautiful analogy, yes? (hopeful) This blessed example has been such a help to my soul. (entirely grateful)
This time here…it’s a time of preparation, and learning, and…tuning. It’s…ordained by God to be haphazard and…messy, and for everything to be in…disarray. Do you see? (tender) Everything is playing out exactly as He would have it. (comforted, resolved)
I…reckon, in a piano factory (pondering), the perfectly skilled piano Craftsman is continually shaping and refining and carving. He’s…playing, and tweaking, and adjusting, and His skilled workers are tuning and clamoring and pounding. Surely, it’s a noisy, chaotic environment. Aye. There’s…perhaps a bit of solace—a brief moment of peace and rest every…7 days or so, but otherwise it’s likely a disheveled and jumbled perpetual…mess. (gentle) Parts go missing, and things, likely, seem like they’re all unkempt and untidy—yes. (extra tender) That’s…okay. (gentle) It’s a factory, a piano factory. Music—beautiful music—piano playing…ahh, now that will come, in due season. Soon, beloved—Soon.
Our enemy, he is desperately trying to temp us—he wants us to think this is all there is. He suggests doubts: he…says, “ahh, listen to that sweet melody!” Or sometimes….he, perhaps, tries to muffle the sound, he distorts it, or tries to make us tune it out altogether. But…
All praise be to God, we know the truth. We know He is good. And this here…these aren’t green pastures. No. (gentle) We are His, and we know He is preparing a Home for us this very moment. Be patient; wait, beloved. (tender) Yes, we are tempted, but thanks be to God and His overpowering grace and strength and Love…we will prevail.
We won’t be in this piano factory forever. Soon, Soon we’ll hear the most beautiful music! All other ‘music’ we’ve ever known will, in contrast, be as though it were only clanging and banging sounds compared to This. (dreamy)
Hush; there, there. Let us not become discouraged, my dear child of God. All this disarranged and disorderly and tousled hodgepodge, it…has a purpose.
The piano factory isn’t our Home. No, sir.
In the morning
When I began to wake,
It happened again—
That feeling
That you, Beloved,
Had stood over me all night,
Keeping watch,
That feeling
That as soon as I began to stir
You put your lips on my forehead
And lit the Holy Lamp
Inside my heart.
—Hafiz
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth…From His fullness, we have all received, grace upon grace.
—John 1:14, 16
—-
The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” And the Lord said, “If you had faith like a grain of mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree: “Be uprooted and planted in the sea,” and it would obey you.
—Luke 17:5-6
—-
Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much.
—Luke 7:47a
—-
Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides You.
—Psalm 73:25
—-
When the Lord has given to a man much grace, He will give him more. A little faith is a nest egg; more faith will come to it. But then it must not be seeming faith, but real and true. What a necessity is laid upon us to make sure work in religion, and not to profess much, and possess nothing!
Blessed be the Lord, it is His way when He has once made a beginning, to go on bestowing the graces of His Spirit, till He who had but little, and yet truly had that little, is made to have abundance. Oh, for that abundance!
Abundance of grace is a thing to be coveted. It would be well to know much, but better still to love much. It would be delightful to have abundance of skill to serve God, but better still to have abundance of faith to trust in the Lord for skill and everything.
Lord, since Thou hast given me a sense of sin, deepen my hatred of evil. Since Thou hast caused me to trust Jesus, raise my faith to full assurance. Since Thou hast made me to love Thee, cause me to be carried away with vehement affection for Thee!
—Charles Spurgeon
—————————————————————————————————————————————————-
O, Lord.
What grace You have given us, what grace You have shown—already. Shown to us, shown to all of humanity, all of Your creation, throughout all of time. Grace upon grace upon grace, until its number, its amount, its value, far exceeds anything our human hearts and minds can comprehend. You came to us—first, face to face: Adam and Eve walking with you in the Garden, then in flesh: Christ, the Word—given, broken, risen and ascended, then in spirit: Your very Spirit, dwelling within us even now. Again and again, You came. In a myriad of ways and forms. Your desire for us—unending, unquenchable, stubbornly persistent, a magnificent picture of True Love.
O, Lord—our faith is so little, like a mustard seed. Hundreds of them, thousands of them, don’t even begin to fill a small glass jar. We can really uproot trees with this tiny speck of faith You’ve bestowed upon us, by Your grace? (amazed) O, Lord—we believe; help our unbelief. Please make our faith genuine, so that even though it is small, it is real and true and good, not a mere wisp or vapor or mirage; not an act or an unfounded profession, but a possession, a pure metal, sure to survive even the hottest flame.
O, Lord—we hesitate to ask for more when You’ve already given so much, and yet, we plead for more grace, for greater faith. We plead to be made more like Christ. O, Lord—we plead for the ability to love as you love, for a Love like Your Love. O, Lord—may the Love you work in us in Christ be ‘enough’ to cover over our many sins, we pray. May we hide in His tender arms; may the angel of death pass over us, His blood being spread over the doorposts of our hearts, we pray.
O Lord—Whom have we in heaven but You? And there is nothing on earth that we desire besides You. Make this true of us, please, Father? May You be ‘sufficient’ to calm our hearts and minds, to offer comfort when we are aching and rest when we are weary. May we look to You, and You alone, as the One who can satisfy us—finally and forever.
O, Lord—apart from You, we can do none of these things. Apart from You we are lost, hopeless, headed for destruction. It is only by Your initiating intimacy with us that we know any good thing. (entirely grateful for this, for Him) Leave us not to our own devices, we pray. Take not Your Holy Spirit from us. Take hold of us and never let go. Shake us, burn us, hammer us, chisel us. Send us through high waters and storms as black as night, but do not abandon us, O Father, we beg You, respectfully.
May we be carried away with affection for You, Christ. May we happily play to the face of Him in all of time. O, Lord—may it be so, by Your grace.
Amen.
The longer we live,
The more of your presence
We find, laid down,
Weave upon weave
Within our lives.
The quiet constancy of your gentleness
Drew no attention to itself,
Yet filled our home
With a climate of kindness
Where each mind felt free
To seek its own direction.
As the fields of distance
Opened inside childhood,
Your presence was a sheltering tree
Where our fledgling hearts could rest.
The earth seemed to trust your hands
As they tilled the soil, put in the seed,
Gathered Together the lonely stones.
Something in you loved to inquire
In the neighborhood of air,
Searching its transparent rooms
For the fallen glances of God.
The warmth and wonder of your prayer
Opened our eyes to glimpse
The subtle ones who
Are eternally there.
Whenever, silently, in off moments,
The beauty of the whole thing overcame you,
You would gaze quietly out upon us,
The look from your eyes
Like a kiss alighting on skin.
There are many things
We could have said,
But words never wanted
To name them;
And perhaps a world
That is quietly sensed
Across the air
In another’s heart
Becomes the inner companion
To one’s own unknown.
—From ‘To Bless the Space Between Us’ by John O’Donohue
“Consider the simplest drive: curiosity. When we’re curious about a subject, doing the hard work to learn more about that subject doesn’t feel like hard work. It requires effort, for certain, but it feels like play.
—The Art of the Impossible (Steven Kotler)
...then I was beside him, like a master workman, and I was daily his delight, rejoicing before him always.
—Proverbs 8:30
O, beloved!
I…hardly know how to begin. And yet, I feel compelled to try nonetheless. (timid)
I’m not sure why…but to try and craft words articulating thoughts and feelings—a whole host of mix up emotions: hopes and fears, inexplicable joy!—on the subject of what I can best describe as ‘playful conformity’, it…overwhelms me.
Not so much because of its magnitude and elusiveness or even because of it’s complex and seemingly unattainably conceptualization. No, it has more to do with the fact of it being a topic of sacred purity and…preciousness to me. It…feels holy.
And so I…approach it humbly, with awe and reverence. It…feels as though…I’m a young boy, a pre-adolescent, striving to get just a glimpse of two young lovers passionately—playfully—kissing one another. Or…rather, perhaps more properly, more correctly…peering into the very essence of the inner-workings of divine Love.
I reference the quote above from The Art of the Impossible, because, for me, and I venture for you as well, curiosity has a marvelous way of transforming anything, even strenuous labor, into something exciting and fun! Yes. But…there’s something uniquely special and near and dear to my heart when I consider the word ‘play.’
To play, or…even better said, to ‘be playful’, is…(reverent) so very beautiful to me.
It, I feel, utilizes every good personal God-given trait: curiosity, vulnerability, trustfulness, hopefulness, giving of one’s self to another, adventure, exploration, learning, craftsmanship or…some form of excellence (mastery, maturation, etc.), gratitude, thankfulness, joy, affection, love, and many many other beautiful things of which I cannot even put into words.
One can be playful, independently, I…suppose. Although, even so, I would argue it’s a…sort of dance between ones own body, mind, and spirit. Better—infinitely better—is to be playful with someone else.
It…brings tears to my eyes when I even try to behold it, in its purest form, in my mind and heart. It…feels as though we only see its shadow here on this earth, or perhaps…the shadow of the shadow of its very splendor.
I…could probably talk of ‘playful’ for all of eternity and not even begin to come close to exhausting or realizing it’s beauty…but truthfully, and perhaps…appropriately—especially concerning our current state of reality here on this earth: seeking to glorify God as sinful creatures, following and honoring King Jesus with glad obedience, leaning hard into faith, accepting God’s grace, submitting to God’s overwhelming mercy, etc. etc. etc,—I must…hastily speak of ‘conformity.’—I must.
One could—aye, one often does, including myself—discover the mysterious and lovely beauty of ‘playful’ and decidedly go no further. One might venture to say: “Ah, I have arrived!” and take comfort in the bliss and comfort—the pleasures and pleasantries of all it provides.
However, that, I feel, is akin to catching a whiff of some perfectly roasted meat, deeply breathing in its delightful aroma…but never putting lips upon it, never taking it in to one’s self—not tasting its savory goodness, not fully enjoying its scrumptious and nourishing qualities. I…lack proper words, but hopefully you get the point.
The ‘playful’ in play, the…smell in perfectly grilled meat, it’s but an invitation to a…(teary, reverent) beautiful union of divine conformity: Love.
Conformity ye say? Aye, conformity. (tender) I suppose…(pondering) you could use other words, words like obedience, or acquiescence, or allegiance, or assenting, or consenting, or conventionality, or docility, or resignation, or submission, or willingness…however, I like ‘conformity’ best.
Why? Because it feels more…unified, more Together, more…operating as One. To conform means to be similar in form or type. Yes—that, please? I want that, pretty please? (hopeful)
And so…I’d like us to consider the Proverbs 8:30 passage, Together, please? It…is…so beautiful and intriguing to me. The ‘I’ in that verse is Wisdom, herself, speaking. She’s professing her delight in God. The Hebrew word for ‘rejoicing’ in that ESV translation, is שׂחק (sah·hawk). It means: laugh; amuse; be merry; joke; provide amusement; play, dance; struggle; fight—according to the The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (HAL).
Wow—what a beautiful, and complex mix of attributes! There’s so much variety, so much contrast, even in this one word, yes?
It’s…strange, perhaps, for us…to think of Wisdom as a person. We typically think of wisdom as a…morality, it seems. I find it fascinating, though, that here, it’s…not just a ‘thing’ or an ‘idea’ or a ‘way of living’ or…whatever, it’s a person, therefore it’s…relational.
My mind wanders throughout Scripture…and the Spirit recalls to my memory other such examples where what normally isn’t considered to have emotions or…personal attributes does—the Joel 2:21 passage, how God speaks of the land: He encourages it not to fear and instead to rejoice and be glad. What? Does land fear? Can land rejoice and be glad? (my heart in awe and wonder—marveling) And how about the Isaiah 55:12 passage—God prophesies: “…the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.” Oh, my! And…there are so many other examples all throughout God’s precious Words, yes?
It’s…humbling, and makes me awe and wonder, and my mind and heart wander too in imagination, as if I were an explorer. I…think to myself: what if everything He created has some kind of…intimate, personal, relationship with Him? The things we see around us aren’t ‘just’ bits and pieces of lifeless matter, they’re not ‘just’ atoms and molecules without any sort of purpose beyond what is perceived by our limited perspective—our shallow point of view. They too, are…in a way, engaged in some kind of playful never-ending dialogue with their Creator.
Okay (ahem), so we have lots of examples, and…perhaps I got a little sidetracked there, but I’d like to try and come back to this idea of ‘playful conformity’, please? Thank you. (grateful for your compliance)
For one to engage in playful-like communion—for one to press in to Love…it…can be exciting, but rather terrifying.
Let me explain.
If playful activity involves all those characteristics as I’ve mentioned above, and I believe it does, there’s a certain kind of ever-increasing amenableness—an intensifying surrender. There’s a constant, continual exchange. It’s like…(sigh) my mind and heart feel so inadequate to find anything comparable to help illuminate such beauty. However, I’ll run with what first comes to mind.
This is a poor example, as I feel it only gets at about 3% of what I hope to realize…but alas, I shall endeavor to do my very best. It’s like…(pondering)
…it’s like a tiny mustard seed, timidly approaching the heavens: the sun, the clouds, the storm.
She’s…terrified; she hasn’t the slightest clue of what’s required of her, and furthermore she is beautifully oblivious to her glorious potential. It’s as if she says to the Heavens, “Here I am, do with me as you please, sir; I am yours.”
Even with this limited analogy, we must be careful. As I’ve described things thus far, it appears as if she’s taking initiative, but that’s naive and preposterous. She is a beautifully and wonderfully made product of God; she is merely responding to her realized position—her subjection to God’s design. She is loved. And therefore Love, invites…nay demands a response. And so she gives one.
This simple, volatile act—this—is…(long pause) beautiful beyond words to me.
We are privileged, of course, to know what is required and what is possible for this precious little seed. We know her fate, if you will.
We know she is to be placed in cold dark soil. We know God will use the heavens and the earth to provide all that she needs. We know she will undergo the process of imbibition—water will fill her. We know this water will then activate enzymes which will cultivate growth. We know she will then produce a single root, at first, and then more and more will multiply—she’ll be ‘forced’ to go down before she can seek and obtain that which is Above. The roots will find moisture in the soil, they’ll allow her to sprout shoots that will extend upward. These shoots will lead to tiny leaves, which will gladly soak up the sun and begin the process of photomorphogenesis.
All of that said, this is ‘only’ the very beginning. The maturation—the glorious and magnificent tree she’ll become, providing shade and rest for birds of the air, nutrients, and countless other benefits to God, man, and beast—are…incalculable and beyond our capacity to valuate.
Even with this humble analogy, as limited as it may be in estimation, can, I hope, provide a glimpse into what’s at stake. Is this little mustard seed engaging in playful conformity? Is she…dare we say, pressing in to Love? Yes, I believe so. She is willingly subjecting herself to a good and gracious God. She is intimately endeavoring to be relational. She’s joyfully—although I’m sure nervously (can joy be void of nervousness, I wonder?)—choosing to play, play the part she’s been given, be who He created her to be, trust…no entrust herself to her Creator with wholehearted vigor.
This all reminds me of the question raised by Susan to Mr. Beaver in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis: “Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”…“Safe?” said Mr Beaver ...“Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.”
Indeed. And so it is for us also, as we respond.
Everything suggests…we too, will be placed in the dark soil, beloved. Perhaps we’re there, in part, already and not yet. What will come of us? What will it be like? Will we rejoice alongside Wisdom as we sit, stand, and run alongside Him? Will we daily, be His delight? Are we…willing to subject (I use this word as I lack a better one) ourselves to Love in playful conformity?
How does one accomplish this? What does it…look like—practically speaking—here, and now?
It…may feel strange, it may be uncomfortable at times. We may stumble and fall. That is, in part, it seems all part of play. We’re being conformed to His very likeness. We’re undergoing a transformation, like a caterpillar becomes a butterfly.
I think…(pondering) it begins with heartfelt honest prayer. As for the rest, well…what fun would it be if we knew precisely what to expect? (playful) Where’s the fun in that?
Come, beloved—let’s press in to Love, Together. He made you; He made me. Let us look to Wisdom as our guide; let us say to our Creator with one accord: “Here I am, do with me as you please, Sir; I am yours.“
…Yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.
—James 4:14
—-
Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.
—I Corinthians 15:51-52a
—-
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison…
—II Corinthians 4:16-17
—-
When you and I have been in heaven for ten thousand years, we will look back on our time here as nothing. Our pain will seems like a pin’s prick, our gain a speck, and our duration the twinkling of an eye. Even if you tarry eighty or ninety years in this exile, when you have been in heaven for a million years, the longest life will seem no greater than a thought. You will wonder why you said that the days were weary and the long nights dreary. You will wonder why the years of sickness dragged at such a weary length. Eternal bliss will overflow our present sea of sorrow!
We make too much of this poor life, and the fondness costs us dearly. Oh for a higher estimate of the home country with its eternal delights! Then the trials of a day would vanish like the morning dew. We are only here long enough to feel an April shower of pain. Then we are gone among the unfading flowers of the endless May. Therefore, make the most of the least and the least of the most. Put things in order. Allot to this brief life its brief consideration and to ever-lasting glory its weight of happy meditations.
We are to dwell throughout eternity with God. Is not that our Home? We are pilgrims because we are here for so short a space when compared with the length of time we will spend in the dear country beyond.
—C.H. Spurgeon, ‘Beside Still Waters’
—-
All this, here, my love…it’s as nothing.
It doesn’t feel this way—nay! It feels like all this, here, is everything—everything there is. But no, beloved. (gentle) We have it all backwards, my little one. (tender)
I think the enemy is the one who wants us to believe that our existence here is everything, that our life here is long, that our dwelling here is home. He wants us ‘stuck’ here—our hearts, minds, and bodies nailed to what is fleeting. He wants us afraid and doubting. He wants us grasping, flailing, clinging to what is only a mirage. He wants us to believe that what seems to be real here is real, that what we see with eyes of flesh is all there is. He wants us to be fond of this poor life—content to make mud pies in the slums, oblivious to a holiday at the sea; satisfied to eat scraps with the pigs when the Father has graciously killed for us the fattened Lamb and prepared for us a Feast!
If only we could see and know that our existence here is as nothing! Our years here, short, as a mist; our dwelling here, a flimsy tent; our life here, a mere pilgrimage, a brief wilderness wandering.
There, our whole life’s pain—all the prickles, the sin, the sorrow, the deaths, the tears, the ache, the unfulfilled longings—will be no more than a speck, beloved, an afterthought. (gentle) There. That. Him. He is what’s real and lasting, what we’ve been desiring all along. He is more real than anything tangible here, my love. (gentle) He is more real than the birds singing, the scent of lilacs, the water we drink and the food we eat, the ground beneath our feet. He is Final and Forever. He is Home. He is Rest, our precious Shalom. He is Communion and Goodness and Intimacy, Abundance and Grace and Mercy. He is Love.
O, beloved! ‘For a higher estimate of the home country with its eternal delights!’ That we might value and desire and strive toward Home with ever-increasing vigor and determination! That we might know how quickly these days and weeks and months and years will pass by so as to not be driven to despair! That we might buck against the lies that keep us nailed to what is fleeting and clinging to what is ‘less than!’ O, my love—Soon!
Soon we will no longer be part of this old world that is decaying and dying, but will be One with Christ and with one another: New, Perfect, Whole, wrapped up tenderly in Love—Beauty beyond beauty, Light beyond light, Love beyond love!
O, beloved! Let us not wallow in what is here today and gone tomorrow, please? (hopeful) Let us not be snared by the trap of our enemy, thinking on all we’re lacking on this brief, harrowing journey! Let us not grow weary in doing good and following hard after Him! No, my love! (resolved, determined) Rather, let us long ever more intensely for what is Real, what is Good, what is Forever! Let us fix our eyes firmly on eternity, that which yet to come! For this, here, beloved…what seems real and oftentimes feels like it has such a tight grip upon us…this isn’t Life—not really, not yet. (gentle) It’s a blur, a blip, a tiny ‘wiggle’ in the scope of eternity, my love. That’s all. (tender)
Only a few more ticks of the clock now, my precious one. And we will be with Him. (longing for that Day) All this, here, beloved (whispering ever so gently and reverently)—it will be as nothing.
True Image of the Father, whether throned
In the bosom of bliss, and light of light
Conceiving, or, remote from Heaven, enshrined
In fleshly tabernacle and human form,
Wandering the wilderness—whatever place,
Habit, or state, or motion, still expressing
The Son of God, with Godlike force endued
Against the attempter of your Father’s throne,
And thief of Paradise! Him long of old
You did rebel, and down from Heaven cast
With all his army; now you have avenged
Supplanted Adam, and by vanquishing
Temptation, have regained lost Paradise,
And frustrated the conquest fraudulent.
He never more henceforth will dare set foot
In Paradise to tempt; his snares are broke.
For, though that seat of earthly bliss be failed,
A fairer Paradise is founded now
For Adam and his chosen sons, whom you,
A Savior, are come down to reinstall;
Where they shall dwell secure, when time shall be
Of tempter and temptation without fear.
But you, Infernal Serpent, shall not long
Rule in the clouds. Like an autumnal star,
Or lightning, you shall fall from Heaven, trod down
Under his feet. For proof, ere this you feel
Your wound (yet not your last and deadliest wound)
By this repulse received, and hold in Hell
No triumph; in all her gates Abaddon rues
Your bold attempt. Hereafter learn with awe
To dread the Son of God. He, all unarmed,
Shall chase you, with the terror of his voice,
From your demonic holds, possession foul—
You and your legions; yelling they shall fly,
And beg to hide them in a herd of swine,
Let he command them down into the Deep,
Bound, and to torment sent before their time.
Hail, Son of the Most High, heir of both Worlds,
Queller of Satan! On your glorious work
Now enter, and begin to save Mankind.
Thus they the Son of God, our Savior meek,
Sung victor and, from heavenly feast refreshed,
Brought on his way with joy. He, unobserved,
Home to his mother’s house private returned.
—John Milton (1608-1674)
When sick of life and all the world—
How sick of all desire but Thee!
I lift mine eyes up to the hills,
Eyes of my heart that see,
I see beyond all death and ills
Refreshing green for heart and eyes,
The golden streets and gateways pearled,
The trees of Paradise.
“There is a time for all things,” saith
The Word of Truth, Thyself the Word:
And many things Thou reasonest of:
A time of hope deferred,
But time is now for grief and fears;
A time for life, but now is death;
Oh when shall be the time of Love
When Thou shalt wipe our tears?
Then the new Heavens and Earth shall be
Where righteousness shall dwell indeed;
There shall be no more blight, nor need,
Nor barrier of the sea;
No sun and moon alternating,
For God shall be the Light thereof;
No sorrow more, no death, no sting,
For God who reigns is Love.
—Christina Rosetti (1830-1894)