FATHER, I know that all my life

My times are in Thy hand.

– Psalm 31:15 (KJV)

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Father, I know that all my life
Is portioned out for me,
And the changes that are sure to come,
I do not fear to see;
But I ask Thee for a present mind
Intent on pleasing Thee.

I ask thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathise.

I would not have the restless will
That hurries to and fro,
Seeking for some great thing to do
Or secret thing to know;
I would be treated as a child,
And guided where I go.

Wherever in the world I am,
In whatsoe’er estate,
I have a fellowship with hearts
To keep and cultivate;
And a work lowly love to do
For the Lord on whom I wait.

So I ask thee for the daily strength,
To none that ask denied,
And a mind to blend with outward life
While keeping at thy side;
Content to fill a little space,
If thou be glorified.

And if some things I do not ask,
In my cup of blessing be,
I would have my spirit filled the more
With grateful love to Thee—
More careful—not to serve Thee much,
But to please Thee perfectly.

There are briers besetting every path,
That call for patient care;
There is a cross in every lot,
And an earnest need for prayer;
But a lowly heart that leans on Thee
Is happy anywhere.

In a service which thy will appoints
There are no bonds for me,
For my inmost heart is taught “the truth”
That makes thy children “free”;
And a life of self-renouncing love
Is a life of liberty.

– Anna Laetitia Waring (1823 - 1910)

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O, beloved! Words fail me just now. I have not the eloquence or the articulation necessary to impart.

Yet, truth be told, our spirit echos this prayer, does it not? We are safe, secure, held tightly by His loving grace. Our time is, indeed, held in His hand.

It is no longer time, but Time.

Indifference has been replaced with passionate love. Frantic scrambling for meaning, has been cut short. Grasping is futile. It is no longer necessary - never again. Shame is now gratefulness. Sorrow, has been turned to joy. What we thought was lost, isn’t really, truly. Not anymore.

Even what we think is slowly drifting away, just now, isn’t really slipping away at all. You see?

Every moment: purposeful.
Every sliver of time: intentional.
Every minute: honorable.

Everything we see now will be made new again, some Day. It will be repurposed. It will be similar, but better.

Rest now, my soul. All is well, beloved. We’ve been given the gift of Time. Nothingness has turned into Something. We, once orphans, are now children of the living God. We lack no good thing. (Psalm 34:10)

Trust in Him - now, tomorrow, the next day, the day after that, and every day that He sustains our life and breath; praise and glory and honor be His forevermore!

Go in peace.

You Have Made Summer and Winter

You have fixed all the boundaries of the earth; you have made summer and winter.

– Psalm 74:17 (ESV)

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My soul, begin this wintry month with God. The cold snows and the piercing winds all remind you that He keeps His covenant with day and night and serve to assure you that He will also keep that glorious covenant that He has made with you in the person of Christ Jesus. He who is true to His Word in the revolutions of the seasons of this poor sin-polluted world will not prove unfaithful in His dealings with His own well-beloved Son.

Winter in the soul is by no means a comfortable season, and if it is upon you just now, it will be very painful to you: But there is this comfort, namely, that the Lord makes it. He sends the sharp blasts of adversity to nip the buds of expectation. He scatters the frozen dew like ashes over the once fresh green meadows of our joy. He dispenses His icy morsels, freezing the streams of our delight. He does it all; He is the great Winter King and rules in the realms of frost, and therefore you cannot murmur. Losses, crosses, heaviness, sickness, poverty, and a thousand other ills are of the Lord’s sending and come to us with wise design. Frosts kill harmful insects and restrain raging diseases; they break up the clods and sweeten the soul. O that such good results would always follow our winters of affliction!

How we prize the fire just now! How pleasant is its cheerful glow! Let us in the same manner prize our Lord, who is the constant source of warmth and comfort in every time of trouble. Let us draw near to Him, and in Him find joy and peace in believing. Let us wrap ourselves in the warm garments of His promises, and keep working, unlike the lazy man who refuses to plow because it is too cold; in the summer he will have nothing and will be forced to beg for bread.

– Morning and Evening: December 1 (Spurgeon)

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O, Creator,

How I love Thee! I marvel at your handiwork; the intricacies in your divine order of all things.

I step outside, and nearly topple over by the harsh bone-chilling wind, and quickly revolt. But then, I pause, and remember your goodness. I think upon your sovereign grace. I recall your steadfast love, and ponder your faithfulness - even in this. Aye, in all things! And, I smile broadly, with a new-founded affection for the “gentle” touch. What, at first passing, felt reproachful; soon takes on a strong embrace. The lonely heart-ache my soul felt, once cold, hardened, aloof; is warmed by your clasp.

I cannot see, or feel your grip on me - not really. And yet, I know you enfold me tenderly in your arms. How? By grace, through faith, I know. It’s not two bodies jointly held Together, but two spirits in blessed communion. My humble, lowly spirit meets yours. And You, somehow - mystery of mysteries! - communicate this comfort; you circumvent the seemingly impossible (to me!) chasm between body and soul; You hold me tightly.

You leave me breathless, yes, partially because of the intense gust, in a physical sort of realm (ha!), but also by impressing your awesome glory upon my soul. I am amazed, O my loving King, how you orchestrate all things for the purposes of your holy will. Nothing in all of creation is outside your control. You, at any given point in time, can choose (with delight!), to command any one of your infinitely numbered elements, creatures, laws, principles, things seen or unseen, to fulfill your passion.

O, my sweet Savior! Who am I, that You are mindful of me? What am I to You? How is it that I, your creature, have become your mode of affection? Your, beloved? O, Lord, my God, I am deeply humbled, and at the same time, everflowing with joy! Your love…it astounds me.

Amen.

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Thinking on this icy gust just a bit more…it’s comforting, yes, but it’s also jarring. As Spurgeon says, “He sends the sharp blasts of adversity to nip the buds of expectation“.

O, my soul! What is your expectation? Is it comfort? Is it ease? Is it to bask in the warmth of sunshine for all your days? Is it to be lulled to sleep in tepid pleasantries all whilst your cold heart hardens? As clay, baked in the sun, becomes hard as a rock? Is that the fulfillment of your desire?

No. O, beloved (said softly). No. That is not it. That is a misplaced dream. That is a lost understanding of joy, my soul. Hey now, there, there. Come now; that isn’t what you want. Not really.

But, of course, you didn’t know that until your Beloved took your breath away. Aye. Indeed.

And so beloved, as you step outside, as you are once again struck by the icy blast, as it penetrates through your coat, your skin, and buries itself deep within your bones; as it dislodges whatever comfort you once had; call to memory His steadfast love, graciously supplied to you. Rejoice in His goodness! Take heart, O my soul, for you have been kissed by the King! He has indeed moved mountains to come to you here and now.

O, beloved! This is no obnoxious intrusion. Oh no. This is the practical application of His heavenly grace. Revel in this discomfort, beloved! You asked, through faith, to see that which cannot be seen, to hear that which cannot be heard, to know of His great love for you, practically speaking. Well?

–––

O, my gracious God! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you for taking notice of me! Not just that…no, but loving me! Thank you for showing me your love through faith. Thank you for the powerful work of your Spirit! O, Lord, my God, I am awed by your amazing grace. Your tenderness. Thank you for your embrace. I will cherish it always.

- Your beloved,

Amen.

But This I Call to Mind

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

– Lamentations 3:21–23 (ESV)

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Beloved? What occupies your mind, just now?

Is it, perhaps, the cares of this world? Is it filled with self-loathing, or great aspirations, or self-pity, or anxiousness, or doubt, or any such thing? Stop.

Rather, beloved (said ever so gently), call this to mind: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

Read that again, please. And yet again for a third time. Let it make its way into your mind and heart. Let it penetrate your inward being. There.

Now, what does it say?

It says: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

What does it mean?

It means we have One who not only loves us steadily, faithfully, patiently; but this great love of which our hearts are captivated, enraptured, enthralled; this great love will never cease to exist! It will go on and on and on. It will endure forever. It will never run dry. It will never be exhausted. It is here now. It was here before, and it will always be.

And, if that’s not enough to capture our swooning hearts, there’s more, beloved! His mercies, those too, will never, come to an end! And so, even when we, as pathetic and lame as we are, fail our Beloved King; His mercies, even, those also! will never be drained completely!

Not even we, with our relentless mishaps, can squelch our Lord’s, steadfast love. For His mercies, they are new, every. single. morning. Aye, this morning, they are new. Just like they were new yesterday morning. And, oh…by the way, they’ll be new again tomorrow morning as well. And if ye happen to live to see the light of the morning thereafter, guess what? They’ll be new again that morning too.

O, beloved! Great is His faithfulness!

And so, we have hope, do we not? We have real, lasting, hope, beloved. Knowing that we are loved, knowing that this steadfast love will never cease, knowing that even our rebellious hearts cannot stifle this great love…we are secure. We are safe. We can rest. Whatever circumstances may be, let them come. Let them have their way with us. We do not fret. Why should we? The most valuable thing we can conceive of is everlasting!

O, my soul! What infinite, overflowing joy!!!

May all praise, and honor, and glory, be His, now and forevermore. Go now, and proclaim this throughout the whole world! Speak, pray, and live within the realities of this incredible truth!

Finally, beloved? If you’re ever feeling discouraged, or downcast, or tempted to despair; call this to mind: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

A Divine Perspective

THE ACQUIESCENCE OF PURE LOVE.

I watch my hours and see them fleet away,
The time is long that I have languish’d here;
Yet all my thoughts thy purposes obey,
With no reluctance, cheerful and sincere.

To me ‘tis equal, whether love ordained,
My life or death, appoint me pain or ease;
My soul perceives no real ill pain,
In ease or health, no real good she sees.

One good she covets, and that good alone,
To choose thy will, from selfish bias free,
And to prefer a cottage to a throne,
And grief to comfort, if it pleases thee.

That we should bear the cross is thy command,
Die to the world, and live to self no more;
Suffer, unmoved, beneath the rudest hand,
As pleased when shipwrecked, as when safe on shore.

– William Cowper

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Ah! if you have a self-will in your hearts, pray to God to uproot it. Have you self-love? Beseech the Holy Spirit to turn it out; for if you will always will to do as God wills, you must be happy. I have heard of some good old woman in a cottage, who had nothing but a piece of bread and a little wafer, and lifting up her hands, she said, as a blessing, "What! all this, and Christ too?" It is "all this," compared with what we deserve. And I have read of some one dying, who was asked if he wished to live or die; and he said, "I have no wish at all about it." "But if you might wish, which would you choose?" "I would not choose at all." "But if God bade you choose?" "I would beg God to choose for me, for I should not know which to take." Happy state! happy state! to be perfectly acquiescent—

To lie passive in his hand,
And to know no will but his.

– “The Peculiar Sleep of the Beloved” - The New Park Street Pulpit Vol I pg. 89 (C.H. Spurgeon)

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O, beloved! That divinely cherished perspective of God’s perfect will - aye? Oh, how trustworthy, how good, how lovely is He?!

Not only do we receive His blessed providence - all the intricacies of His willed circumstances - whatever they may be; but we are graced with Himself: Love.

And so, what say you, beloved? What position will you hold? Will you carelessly balance your affections alongside an everchanging turbulence of time? Will you let your feelings ebb and flow while pros and cons press in?

O, my soul. Listen. Come now. We have been gifted a free will, have we not? We have something of which we take so very lightly, and yet, it is no insignificant matter.

We have a choice: we can govern our devotion, we can carefully weigh our lot; we can try and judge for ourselves, whether or not that which has been bestowed upon us is for our good.

Or, we can, with reckless abandon, realize our dim-witted nature, rest in His sovereign grace, and gladly, unreservedly, passionately, unrelentingly, submit ourselves to His tender lovingkindness.

Ah! That’s better.

Let us take our free will, perhaps the only thing we “own”; let us offer it up as our expression of love. Let us turn our affection towards Him, the only One truly worthy of our praise. And, let us, with the help of His Spirit, shape our perspective accordingly.

May His will be done, now and always.

Death of a Dream

O Christ, in whom the final fulfillment of all hope is held secure.

I bring to you now the weathered fragments of my former dreams, the broken pieces of my expectations, the rent patches of hopes worn thin, the shards of some shattered image of life as I once thought it would be.

What I so wanted has not come to pass. I invested my hopes in desires that returned only sorrow and frustration. Those dreams, like glimmering faerie feasts, could not sustain me,

and in my head I know that you are sovereign even over this – over my tears, my confusion, and my disappointment. But I still feel, in this moment, as id I have been abandoned, as if you do not care that these hopes have collapsed to rubble.

And yet I know this is not so. You are the sovereign of my sorrow. You apprehend a wider sweep with wiser eyes than mine. My history bears the fingerprints of grace. You were always faithful, though I could not always trace quick evidence of your presence in my pain, yet did you remain at work, lurking in the wings, sifting all my splinterings for bright embers that might be breathed into more eternal dreams.

I have seen so oft in retrospect, how you had not neglected me, but had, with a master’s care, flared my desire like silver in a crucible to burn away some lessor longing, and bring about your better vision.

So let me remain tender now, to how you would teach me. My disappointments reveal so much about my own agenda for my life, and the ways I quietly demand that it should play out: free of conflict, free of pain, free of want.

My dreams are all so small.

Your bigger purpose has always been for my greatest good, that I would day-to-day be fashioned into a more fit vessel for the indwelling of your Spirit, and molded into a more compassionate emissary of your coming Kingdom. And you, in love, will use all means to shape my heart into those perfect forms.

So let this disappointment do its work.

My truest hopes have never been failed, they have merely been buried beneath the shoveled muck of disillusion, or encased in a carapace of self-serving desire. It is only false hopes that are brittle, shattering like shells of thing glass, to reveal the diamond hardness of the unshakeable eternal hopes within. So shake and scatter all that would hinder my growth, O God.

Unmask all false hopes, that my one true hope might shine out unclouded and undimmed. So let me be tutored by this new disappointment. Let me listen to its holy whisper, that I might release at last these lesser dreams. That I might embrace the better dreams you dream for me, and for your people, and for your kingdom, and for your creation. Let me join myself to these, investing all hope in the one hope that will never come undone or betray those who place their trust in it. Teach me to hope, O Lord, always and only in you.

You are the King of my collapse. You answer not what I demand, but what I do not even know to ask.

Now take this dream, this husk, this chaff of my desire, and give it back reformed and remade according to your better vision, or do not give it back at all. Here in the ruins of my wrecked expectation, let me make this confession:

Not my dreams, O Lord, not my dreams, but yours, be done.

Amen.

– EVERY moment HOLY (VOL I)

Sweet Comfort For Feeble Saints

A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench, till he send forth judgment unto victory

— Matthew 12:20 (KJV)

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A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench, until he brings justice to victory.

— Matthew 12:20 (ESV)

❀✿❁

“Now, I can imagine some woman here this morning who has departed from the paths of virtue; and, while she is standing in the throng up there, or sitting down, she feels as if she had no right to tread these hallowed courts, and stand among God's people. She thinks that God might almost make the chapel break down upon her to destroy her, she is so great a sinner. Never mind, broken reed and smoking flax! Though thou art the scorn of man, and loathsome to thyself, yet Jesus saith to thee, ‘Neither do I condemn thee; go, and sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee.’ There is some man here who hath something in his heart that I know not of—who may have committed crimes in secret, that we will not mention in public; his sins stick like a leech to him, and rob him of all comfort. Here you are young man, shaking and trembling, lest your crime should be divulged before high heaven; you are broken down, bruised like a reed, smoking like flax. Ah! I have a word for thee too. Comfort! comfort! comfort! Despair not; for Jesus saith he will not quench the smoking flax, he will not break the bruised reed.”

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“Who knows but that you who are nothing now, may be of more use than those of us who appear to stand better before God, because we have more gifts and talents? God can make a spark set a world on fire—he can light up a whole nation with the spark of one poor praying soul. You may be useful yet; therefore be of good cheer. Moss groweth upon gravestones; the ivy clingeth to the mouldering pile; the mistletoe groweth on the dead branch; and even so shall grace, and piety, and virtue, and holiness, and goodness, come from smoking flax and bruised reeds.”

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“It says he will not quench—he will not break. But there is more under cover than we see at first sight. When Jesus says he will not break, he means more than that; he means, "I will take that poor bruised reed; I will plant it hard by the rivers of waters, and (miracle of miracles) I will make it grow into a tree whose leaf shall not wither; I will water it every moment; I will watch it; there shall be heavenly fruits upon it; I will keep the birds of prey from it; but the birds of heaven, the sweet songsters of paradise shall make their dwellings in the branches." When he says that he will not break the bruised reed, he means more; he means that he will nourish, that he will help, and strengthen, and support and glorify—that he will execute his commission on it, and make it glorious for ever. And when he says to the backslider that he will not quench him, he means more than that—he means that he will fan him up to a flame. Some of you, I dare say, have gone home from chapel and found that your fire had gone nearly out; I know how you deal with it; you blow gently at the single spark, if there is one, and lest you should blow too hard, you hold your finger before it; and if you were alone and had but one match, or one spark in the tinder, how gently would you blow it. So, backslider, Jesus Christ deals with thee; he does not put thee out; he blows gently; he says, ‘I will not quench thee;’ he means, ‘I will be very tender, very cautious, very careful;’ he will put on dry material, so that by-and-by a little spark shall come to a flame, and blaze up towards heaven, and great shall be the fire thereof.”

– The New Park Street Pulpit: Vol I No. 6 - “Sweet Comfort For Feeble Saints” (pg. 44, 45)

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O, Jesus. You are so very tender toward us. You graciously mend our broken spirit. You take what we consider to be worthless, despicable, shameful; and you make us lovely.

Our minds, our hearts, they cannot comprehend something so…so marvelous. So, outrageous, so bewildering. Our timid soul, Lord, it has such a terrible time comprehending such lavish Love.

And yet, it is true. Not only do you restore us to full health, but you reshape us into something new. Something better than we could have ever imagined. Aye, something we still cannot fathom.

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For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

– 1 Corinthians 13:12 (ESV)

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Some Day, Father. Some Day, we’ll know fully, yes? We’ll be able to finally see more clearly. O, beloved! We’re already in awe, now, are we not? All of His glorious care, might, gentleness, mercy, and love?!

O, soul (said soberly). When He reveals Himself in full glory; when we can see all that He has done for us, for His beloved people, for this world and all of creation; when we can fully grasp the deep, sacrificial, perfect love in all of its splendor – Then, we will tremble. We will fall down before Him in reverence, admiration, wonderment. We will see with these very eyes. We will hear perfectly, with these very ears - as worn out as they may be. And our faith will take shape. What is now obscure, vague, unknown; will Then be made manifest, visible, real.

So, now, take courage weak creature. Trust in your God. He will not extirpate you. All thanks be to Jesus Christ, our Hope! We have an advocate! We have life!

Go in peace, beloved.

I Was Lost. Now, I’m Found!

My sweet, precious, lovely Savior,

I was lost. So very lost. I didn’t think I was. I thought all was well, but oh…how I was so, so very wrong.
I am a dim-witted sheep. Yet I am beloved. Why? I still don’t understand. But I know now, I am loved.

–––

I had wandered off.
I thought I knew the way.
I don’t have a good excuse, really.
Frankly, it’s a bit of a blur to me.

Your voice, You were calling to me, I knew You were.
But I covered my ears and I ran faster.
I don’t really even know why…other than, I thought I knew the way better than You.

I didn’t.
Clearly.

I got all tangled up.
My wool got all dirty and matted.
I hate getting dirty, but I pressed on anyway.
I was determined.
The slopes kept getting steeper, the branches gouged me deeper.
I became weary and sad.
So very sad.

My mind became confused.
My heart, cold.
I got frustrated.
Everything was messy, so very messy.
I was a mess.
And I, for the first time in my life, despaired.

I, determined, turned around.
I tried to find my way back to You.
My heart, racing.
My mind, frantic.
My wee little legs trembling.
I, suddenly, became frighted.
I was scared.
Deathly afraid.

Running in circles, I cried out to You, the One and only good and faithful Shepherd.
But, realizing I couldn’t hear You, realizing I was so far away from You, I panicked.

I yelled louder.
I became more persistent.
I tried to retrace my steps.
But everything looked the same.
Everything had become blurry.
I realized, suddenly, I had become blind.
Completely blind.

And so, I baaed even louder still.
O, my soul!
I had lost my only Hope!
I…became terribly fearful.
I didn’t consider myself, beloved, anymore.
I…was ashamed.

I stopped baaing.
My throat had become hoarse.
It was no use.
I had become too weak to think, or say anything.

I collapsed.
And cried.
I wept. My sheepish body, shook.
I was already low, was lying prostrate on the ground.
And yet, I wanted to get lower still.

I gave up.

And then…

Even though I had become blind, I opened my eyes, once more.
Something startled me.
Perhaps it was a breeze?

I thought I saw something.
Did I?
I couldn’t see a blasted thing.
Nothing, definitely.
Just a tiny hint of light, off in the distance.

Was it Him?
Had He come?
Surely…not for…me?

No, He wouldn’t be looking for me.
Not now.
Not after all I had done.
Not after I had run away.

No.
He must be looking for another one of His beloved sheep.
Yes, I convinced myself as such.
That would make plain sense.

But…and I weep, just recalling it to memory, now.
O, soul; be still.

He called out to me!
I don’t quite even know how, exactly.
For I had become completely blind and deaf.

But…

Suddenly, slowly, I began to see again.
My hearing, albeit awful still, started to return, just a little.
I was in a daze.
I was a poor, pathetic, lamb.
Hardly worth even a notice; a glance, an ounce of effort for a passerby to consider.
I was, in my own eyes, good for nothing.
My wool was no longer useful.
I had betrayed the One who considered me His own.
And, yet…

He found me.

I…weep, once more, thinking of it.
I weep, still.
Still, do I weep.

He said to me: “fear not, my beloved.”
He scooped me up, and held me close to His chest.
He carried me away from that dark and gloomy place.

I could use all kinds of fancy words like: “mercy”, “grace”, “forgiveness”, etc.
But…
Right now, although they are all true, and real, and lovely…
All I can think about, just now, is…He found me.
That’s all that matters.

He found me!

O, soul! We’re not lost anymore!
We’re in the strong, but gentle, arms of our Beloved!
The good Shepherd.
Our, good Shepherd.

That’s all that matters now, yes?
For we know that we are safe, now.
We know that He cares for us, still.
We are His beloved.

Once, I was lost.
Now, I am found!

So, I rejoice!
I tell Him “thank you”…or I try to anyways.
Mostly, I just let out timid, pleasant-sounding, baas.
And I nestle in closer to Him.

All is well, now.

You see, beloved?

Prickly Agitations

Although my house be not so with God; yet he hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure: for this is all my salvation, and all my desire, although he make it not to grow.

- 2 Samuel 23:5 (KJV)

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For does not my house stand so with God? For he has made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and secure. For will he not cause to prosper all my help and my desire?

- 2 Samuel 23:5 (ESV)

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“First, let me say to you, my brethren, it is necessary that you should have an "although" in your lot, because if you had not, you know what you would do; you would build a very downy nest on earth, and there you would lie down in sleep; so God puts a thorn in your nest in order that you may sing. It is said by the old writers, that the nightingale never sang so sweetly as when she sat among thorns, since say they, the thorns prick her breast, and remind her of her song. So it may be with you. Ye, like the larks, would sleep in your nest did not some trouble pass by and affright you; then you stretch your wings, and carolling the matin song, rise to greet the sun. Trials are sent to wean you from the world. Your soul without trouble would be as the sea if it were without tide or motion; it would become foul and obnoxious. As Coleridge describes the sea after a wondrous calm, so would the soul breed contagion and death.”

“But furthermore, recollect this—that prayer can remove thy troubles. Faith is as omnipotent as God himself, for it moves the arm which leads the stars along. Have you prayed long…without a result? and have ye said, "I will cease to pray, for the more I wrestle, the worse they seem to grow, and the more am I tried?" Oh! say not so, thou weary watcher. Though the promise tarrieth, it will come. Still sow the seed; and when thou sowest it, drop a tear with each grain thou puttest into the earth. Oh, steep thy seeds in the tears of anxiety, and they cannot rot under the clods, if they have been baptized in so vivifying a mixture.”

- The New Park Street Pulpit: Vol I No. 19 - “David’s Dying Song” (pg. 143)

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O, beloved. How timid you are! Oh, how you desire comfort! How you’re so very prone to tears!

Aye, indeed.

Hey now. There, there.
All will be well, some Day. Take courage.

These abrasions, they are painful, yes. But, they provoke us towards want, do then not? With lack, comes need. And need comes a desire. And whom can satisfy our desires? Jesus Christ, crucified.

These disturbances lead us back to Him, our Beloved. And so, we are to be grateful for them, each and every one of them. We should name them, take note of them, and offer them back to Him as thank-offerings, yes?

And, because you’re tender, feeble, fragile, delicate…you’ll cry, beloved. It’s okay. These tears will not be wasted. We weep, because we long to be in the presence of our King. We long for all things to be made right.

Hark, ye! Jesus says our sorrow will be turned into joy, beloved! (John 16:20) Joy!

Should we be surprised? We marvel at how such a small seed can grow to become a sapling, and inexorably a magnificent, towering oak tree. And yet it’s something we can see with our very eyes! Albeit slowly. So very slowly. (pondering) And so, let us have Great-Faith, beloved, that our tears can be transformed into joy!

Therefore, beloved, let us welcome these disruptions, as we know they are instigated by our loving God.

All is well.

Waiting with Patience

“How do we wait for God? We wait with patience. But patience does not mean passivity. Waiting patiently is not like waiting for the bus to come, the rain to stop, or the sun to rise. It is an active waiting in which we live the present moment to the full in order to find there the signs of the One we are waiting for.

The word patience comes from the Latin verb patior which means ‘to suffer.’ Waiting patiently is suffering through the present moment, tasting it to the full, and letting the seeds that are sown in the ground on which we stand grow into strong plants. Waiting patiently always means paying attention to what is happening right before our eyes and seeing there the first rays of God’s glorious coming.”

- Bread for the Journey (Nouwen)

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O, heart! How you struggle so to wait upon your God!

Waiting is hard. I know. Waiting takes time. Sometimes we know how much time is required, and other times we do not. Either way, it’s hard; so very hard.

And yet, hark ye! Waiting provides a rich opportunity, a blessed landscape, for practicing patience, yes? In waiting upon our Beloved God, we are allowed to respond in love, through patience; by suffering through our current circumstances! Look, beloved! Don’t you see?

O, beloved! Thankfully, we don’t have to sit idle, wallowing in misery any longer. We have work to do! We have the present moment to contend with, aye!

And so, let us taste it fully. Let us roam about it, with eyes wide open. Let us explore it’s every nook and cranny so we don’t miss any minute detail. This waiting, this opportune patience, this blessed suffering, it’s intentional. It’s purposeful. It’s active. It’s progressive!

Be at peace, beloved. Remain vigilant. Wait expectantly. Eagerly, we await His Advent!

Why Pray?

“Why should I spend an hour in prayer when I do nothing during that time but think about people I am angry with, should write, and thousands of other silly things that happen to grab my mind for a moment?

The answer is: because God is greater than my mind and my heart and what is really happening in the house of prayer is not measured in terms of human success and failure.

What I must do first of all is to be faithful. If I believe that the first commandment is to love God with my whole heart, mind, and soul, then I should at least be able to spend one hour a day with nobody else but God. The question as to whether it is helpful, useful, practical, or fruitful is completely irrelevant, since the only reason to love is love itself. Everything else is secondary.

The remarkable thing, however, is that sitting in the presence of God for one hour each morning – day after day, week after week, month after month – in total confusion and with myriad distractions radically changes my life. God, who loves me so much that he sent his only son not to condemn me but to save me, does not leave me waiting in the dark too long. I might think that each hour is useless, but after thirty or sixty or ninety such useless hours, I gradually realize that I was not as alone as I thought; a very small, gentle voice has been speaking to me far beyond my noisy place.

So, be confident and trust in the Lord.”

- You Are The Beloved (Nouwen)

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Dear heavenly Father,

I do love you with my whole heart, mind, and soul!

I, oftentimes, when I first approach you in prayer, feel so very…timid. I…sheepishly don’t know quite what to say - as you know. I usually start with simple things like: “O heavenly Father, I love you!” or “O Lord, you are so very good, so faithful, so tender, so loving!“ And then, I…fumble and stumble over my words, and try to confess my sins to you, plainly.

Sometimes I make myself laugh. And I think you must laugh with me too. Not a condescending sort of laugh, but a deep and joy-filled chuckle, as a father has towards his beloved son when he does something endearing, yet silly.

I cherish these times we have Together. Even when I sit or walk in silence and struggle to know what to speak out loud or in my mind to You. You are so very patient with me. You never rush me. I imagine You, calmy waiting for me. Waiting, while you hold the infinite and delicate complexities of this entire universe in the palm of your hand. Waiting with perfect peace, perfect love, perfect joy. Gladly. You, waiting for me?! O, Lord. How that humbled me. And yet, it fills my heart to overflowing with love-filled devotion and awe.

O, Father! My heart bursts with adoration for You! That’s what I know. I don’t know how to say it well, but…I’m learning, slowly. Besides, You already know, Father. You know all things.

I will joyfully continue to practice my ability to articulate my love for You, as long as You give me life and breath. I will press into You, I will rest my weary head upon your bosom. I will speak to you in faith. Even though I cannot see anything come of it, practically speaking. I will regularly pursue You, day and night, the One whom my heart loves. Though I cannot see You, I love You. (1 Peter 1:8) By faith, I will continue to put my hope in You, the unseen all-loving Savior. (Hebrews 11:1)

Thank you for giving me access to You in prayer, Father. What a tremendous gift you’ve given us.

You are my Beloved. And I am yours. I will put my trust in You.

Amen.

Behold, His Glory!

[1] The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.
Psalm 19:1 (ESV)

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O, Lord! My soul oftentimes looks up towards the sky; and I cannot help but respond with a wide permagrin!

I say: “Thank you, Lord!” I assume your masterpiece isn’t for my eyes only, that would be so very presumptuous and proud, and yet…it feels as such. For the vivid detail, the colors, the way in which the clouds are arranged, the way the light radiates and casts it’s rays and chases the shadows every which way; the striking contrast in the many hues, the brilliant white and perilous dark grays, the infinite varieties…

Every time I look up, I…am overwhelmed by your glory, Father, your incredible handiwork! What striking Beauty! What magnificence!

And, I know that nothing happens in heaven or on earth without your doing, and so I wonder, Father…do You arrange the clouds with your very hands? Do you command the moisture to condense and manifest itself in just a particular way? Do you command the winds to blow at a certain speed and direction, while holding the earth’s orbit, sun, gravitational pull, and every other imaginable and unimaginable force in perfect proportion and complexity…all…‘just‘ to put on a spectacular display of your awesome glory?

Oh, beloved soul! Look up! Be amazed! Show wonder, give praise, adore your Almighty God!

Shelter Under His Wings

Oh, that I knew where I might find Him.

– Job 23:3 (ESV)

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“It is the heaven-born instinct of a gracious soul to seek shelter from all ills beneath the wings of Jehovah. ‘He who has made God his refuge’ might serve as the title of a true believer. A hypocrite, when afflicted by God, resents the infliction and, like a slave, would run from the Master who has scourged him; but not so the true heir of heaven, who kisses the hand that struck him and seeks shelter from the rod in the heart of the God who frowned upon him. Job’s desire to commune with God was intensified by the failure of all other sources of consolation. The patriarch turned away from his sorry friends and looked up to the heavenly throne, just as a traveler turns from his empty water jug and makes a beeline for the well. He bids farewell to earthly hopes and cries, ‘Oh, that I knew where I might find my God!’ Nothing teaches us about the preciousness of the Creator as much as when we learn the emptiness of everything else. Turning away with bitter scorn from earth’s hives, where we find no honey, but many sharp stings, we rejoice in Him whose faithful Word is sweeter than honey or the honeycomb. In every trouble we should first seek to realize God’s presence with us. Only let us enjoy His smile, and then we can bear our daily cross with a willing heart for His dear sake.”

– Morning and Evening (November 19th - Evening), C. H. Spurgeon

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Wave after wave of sorrow has beaten upon us. We’ve altogether lost our bearing entirely. Water fills our mouth and nostrils, delivering its burn; robbing us of breath.

At times, the gush is self-inflicted, as we thrash about, rightly deserved. Equitably, our blessed Lord stirs about tumultuous havoc with the gentle strokes of His finger.

And so, we’re set in our proper place.

He invites us.

O, beloved. Wheresoever shall we go? To whom can we take refuge? Do we dare, run to Him? The One, quite possibly causing this commotion? This heart-ache? This pain?

Yes. We shall. Gladly.

For, He gently prods us. He tenderly rouses us from our slumber.

You see, we, drowsy with presumed opulence, drifted away from safety. Oh! That we could have drowned, without His great mercy! Without Him interceding!

Therefore, oh soul! Let us come. Let us run to Him. Let us take shelter under His wings. May we kiss His beloved fingers, the very ones that caused us distress. For we know, now, He acted in love.

We tremble before Him, as those that narrowly escaped certain death.

Love Is Patient

[4] Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant [5] or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; [6] it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. [7] Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
- 1 Corinthians 13:4–7 (ESV)

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O my Beloved Lord Jesus, You are SO very patient with us!

Lately, I’ve been continually astounded by your patience. It is amazing. It is humbling.

How do we know, beloved, our God is steadfast in His love for us?

He is patient.

We stumble and fall.
He, picks us back up again.

We yell, scream, and throw temper tantrums until we finally collapse, exhausted.
He, waits patiently, unmoved.

We shake our fist at Him, and determine we’d rather have our way than His.
He, tenderly frustrates our journey, patiently forbearing all things.

We, blinded by a lack of faith, shut up our hearts and mouths; discarding prayer.
He, causes us to stumble, and patiently waits for us to cry out to Him for safety.

We wander off, like the dim-witted sheep that we are, searching for satisfaction elsewhere.
He, calmly waits - knowing misery awaits us, for nothing is good apart from Him.

Oh Lord, Almighty and Sovereign God. Thank you for being so very patient in your love for us! May we, in turn, respond to You with patience - eagerly, yet calmly waiting for You.

One Day, when the Time is right, and proper, and good, You will restore all things, and all will Then, be made well.

O, beloved soul! Let the ever constant, perpetual, and everlasting waves of His loving patience soothe us, as we longingly await His Advent.

Divine Love and It's Gifts

“Stablish your hearts, then, beloved brethren. Be ye ‘stedfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord.’ Things are not what they seem. Dark nights are but the prelude to bright days. The rain shall be followed by the clear shining. When truth retreats, she only retires to leap to a greater victory. Though each wave as it comes up upon the shore may die, and you may think that there is no progress, yet the tide is coming in, even Jehovah’s tide of everlasting truth which shall cover all the earth. Be not discouraged! Go to your God. Get away, every man, from your circumstances and from your selves, and get to your Savior and your Shepherd; and there, like sheep in the pasture, lie down to feed; and then, like sheep obedient to the shepherd, rise up and follow him withersoever he goeth. God bless you this.”

- Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit: Volume 19 - “Divine Love and It's Gifts.“ (pg. 95)

❀✿❁

No, beloved, things are not what they seem. Thanks be to God!

Does the young Maple sapling say to herself: “I’m not growing.“? She feels the harsh wind, and bends low. With the passing of each new day, nothing seems to change for her. Yes, there are seasons, which hold a portion of time, and yet even with those: with the shedding of leaves, new buds forming, and her supplying wee little blossoms to encourage those around her; what progress is made? She is stationary. She must hold to a certain plot of earth and venture no further. And thus, has a fixed view of things. Her perspective is set. She looks around her at the giant Maple trunks not far away. She marvels at their strength, beauty, and firm stance. Oh, how they tower above her! Even their tender, wispy, shoots at the tip of their crown dwarf her slender trunk!

O, Beloved! How we can become dismayed with our limited perspective of time, yes? We look around us, like this young sapling, and can become oh so discouraged. We, like her, look around us. We, like her, have such a limited view.

My dear beloved. Go to your God! He is the one that has planted you here. Trust in Him. Please…stop (said gently). What are we to gain in ascertaining growth, hope, or even joy by our limited view of what is seen with these eyes? Or what is heard with these ears? Or what is felt with these emotions?

What can this beloved sapling do? Can she produce, with resolve, a determination to realize, more fully, a sure founded maturity or stature before her Time has come? No, beloved (said tenderly). She needs to wait. We need to wait. O, my soul. Wait upon your God!

Time is a gift, given to us by Him. Isn’t time itself a gift of patience? A beautiful expression of love? If He were to carelessly pull this beloved sapling up from the ground in compulsive haste, as if to stretch her fragile wood prematurely, would not her tender limbs break? Would not the feeble, delicate roots snap? Her life-source would be cut off. Her safe haven of moist soil, restoring moisture, and precious nutrients would be cut off completely! She would perish.

Our God is good. O, beloved! He’s loving, don’t you see? So very loving. We cannot see, or understand, or discern such things. And so, let us wait, patiently; gladly. Our Beloved God, he cares for us immensely. We can put our trust in Him.

Nights & Days of Doubt

“I would that my heart was ever strong, O Lord,
my faith always firm and unwavering,
my thoughts unclouded,
my devotion sincere,
my vision clear.

I would that I dwelt always in that state
wherein my belief, my hope, my confidence,
were rooted and certain.

I would that I remain in those seasons
when assailing storms seem only
to make faith stronger, proving your presence,
your provenance.

But it is not always so.
There are those other moments,
as now,

when I cannot sense you near, cannot hear you, see you, touch you - times
when fear or depression or frustration
overwhelm,
and I find no help or consolation,
when the seawalls of my faith crumble
and give way to inrushing tides of doubt.

Have I believed in vain?
Are your words true?
They seem so distant to me now.
Is your presence real?
I cannot feel it.
Do you love me?
Or are you indifferent to my grief?
Under weight of such darkness,
how can I remember the sunlight of your love
as anything more than a child's dream?
Under weight of such doubt,
how can I still proclaim to my heart
with certainty that you are real?

And so, Jesus, I do now the only thing
I know to do.
Here I drag my heavy heart again
into this cleared and desolate space,
to see if you will meet me in my place of doubt,

even as you mercifully met your servant
Thomas in his uncertainty, even as you once
acted in compassionate response to
a fearful father who desperately pleaded:

‘I believe, Lord. Help me with my unbelief!’

For where else but to you might I flee
with my doubts? You alone have the
words of eternal life.

This I know to be true, my Lord and my God:
You are not in the least angered
by my doubts and my questions,
for they have often been the very things
that lead me to press closer in to you,
seeking the comfort of your presence,
seeking to understand the roots of
my own confusion.
So also use these present doubts
for your purposes, O Lord.
I offer them to you.

Even as the patriarch Job
made of his pain and confusion a petition;
even as the psalmists again and again
carried their cries, their questions, their laments
to you; so would I be driven by my doubts
to despair of my own strength and knowledge
and righteousness and control,
and instead to seek your face, knowing that
when I plead for proof,
what I most need is your presence.

In your presence I can offer my questions,
knowing you are never
threatened by my uncertainties.
They do not change your truth.
My doubts cannot unseat your promises.
You are a rock, O Christ,
and your truth is a bulwark
that I might dash myself against,
until my strength is spent
and I collapse at last in despair,
only then to feel the tenderness of your embrace as you stoop to gather me to yourself,
drawing me to your breast
and cradling me there,
where I find I am held again by a love
that even my doubts
cannot undo.

O Lord, how many times have you graciously
led me through doubt into deeper faith?
Do so again, my Lord and my God!
Even now. Do so again!

You alone are strong enough
to carry the weight of my troubled thoughts,
even as you alone are strong enough to bear
the burden of my sin and my guilt and my
shame, my wounds and my brokenness.

O Christ, let my doubts never compel me to
hide my heart from you. Let them rather arise as
questions to begin holy conversations.
Invert these doubts, turning them to invitations
to be present, to be honest, to seek you, to cry
out to you, to bring my heart fully into the
struggle rather than to seek to numb it.

Let my doubts become invitations to wrestle
with you through such dark nights of the soul –
as Jacob wrestled with the Angel – until the day
breaks anew and I am fresh wounded by your
love and resting in the blessing of peace again in
your presence.

Now O Lord may the end result of my doubt
be a more precious and hard-wrung faith,
resilient as the Methuselah tree,
and hope more present and evergreen,
and a more tender and active mercy
extended to others in their own seasons
of doubting.

So help me, my Lord and my God.
I have no consolation but you.
Meet me now in this eclipse-shadow
of my doubt. Lead me again into your light.

Amen.”
- EVERY moment HOLY (VOL I)