Trust In The Lord

Trust in the LORD, and do good; dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness. Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act.

—Psalm 37:3-5

A Prayer Of Praise

O, Blessed, Beautiful God!

We are continually astonished at Your goodness to us!

We know, without a doubt, that what we deserve is punishment. We know our own sin, our own darkness and shame and regret, our own hypocrisy and pride. We wouldn’t blame You if You put us away from Yourself entirely.

But O Lord, You don’t!

Instead of putting us far from Yourself and punishing us, You draw us tenderly onto Your lap and hold us and give us this - such a very good gift!

O Father, may we remain thankful and satisfied, doing things Your way, the right way, in joyful obedience to You, our Beloved. Out of our love for You, let us walk the path You have set before us, loving the ones You have called us to love, here and now; respecting Your choices for us and resting in Your ways as the very best ways.

We still don’t understand entirely, O Lord. But our hearts overflow with praise! We trust You. We love You. We see You at work and we bow before You in glad submission, knowing that You are our good Father, taking care of all things on our behalf, cleaning up our messes in the kitchen, O Beloved…thank You. What a gift!

The God of the Universe who created all things…and You delight to give us good things?! {in awe} And we have so little to give You, really! But we can give You ourselves, Beloved Christ. And so we do so, willingly, gladly; living sacrifices, bound and determined to praise You with our lips and with our lives for as long as we both shall live!

You have all of us, Lord God.

We love You.

Amen.

Trees

The trees of the field will clap their hands.

– Isaiah 55:12

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In the forest, there are unwritten guidelines for tree etiquette. These guidelines lay down the proper appearance for upright members of ancient forests and acceptable forms of behavior. This is what a mature, well-behaved deciduous tree looks like. It has a ramrod-straight trunk with a regular, orderly arrangement of wood fibers. The roots stretch out evenly in all directions and reach down into the earth under the tree. In its youth, the tree had narrow branches extending sideways from its trunk. They died back a long time ago, and the tree sealed them off with fresh bark and new wood so that what you see now is a long, smooth column. Only when you get to the top do you see a symmetrical crown formed of strong branches angling upward like arms raised to heaven.

An ideally formed tree such as this can grow to be very old. Similar rules hold for conifers, except that the topmost branches should be horizontal or bent slightly downward. And what is the point of all this? Deep down inside, do trees secretly appreciate beauty? Unfortunately, I cannot say, but what I can tell you is that there is a good reason for this ideal appearance: stability.

The large crowns of mature trees are exposed to turbulent winds, torrential rains, and heavy loads of snow. The tree must cushion the impact of these forces, which travel down the trunk to the roots. The roots must hold out under the onslaught so that the tree doesn't topple over. To avoid this, the roots cling to the earth and to rocks. The redirected power of a windstorm can tear at the base of the trunk with a force equivalent to a weight of 220 tons. If there is a weak spot anywhere in the tree, it will crack. In the worst-case scenario, the trunk breaks off completely and the whole crown tumbles down.

Evenly formed trees absorb the shock of buffeting forces, using their shape to direct and divide these forces evenly throughout their structure.

– ‘The Hidden Life of Trees’ (Peter Wohlleben)

O, beloved!

Isn’t it fun thinking about trees? I especially love pondering trees growing Together! They grow so very slowly, yes – like us? Aye!

I have so many thoughts when it comes to trees, do you know?

For example, trees – they’re so very innocent! They…live exactly as they were created to live. That’s it. They don’t strive towards greatness, or grasp after things – nay. They simply let nature run its course as God intended. If a storm happens upon them and they suffer, they don’t lash out. They don’t become angry, or fight back. They don’t rebel. They don’t even have such capacity to do so! And, they…are glorious, they are good, just as God created them.

Trees are living things. They are so very dependent on God to sustain them, continually. They need sunlight, and water, and moderate conditions. They can sustain some hazards: harsh winds, seasons of drought, a trivial few pests, a dash of disease, etc., but they are quite fragile – really – just like us! If too much time goes by without water or too severe an affliction presses upon them, they will die. What a beautiful thing it is to be living! and sustained by the living God!

Trees were designed by our Creator to follow particular patterns or ways of being, just like us! As Peter describes, an “ideal” tree structure is symmetrical. Of course, there are millions, if not trillions of factors that go into the health and well-being of an “ideal”, healthy tree. And to even begin to imagine all the complexity of our bodies, mind, and soul…and the similarly infinite variables that account for our health and sustenance…!? I…can hardly even imagine! Thanks be to God! for His lovingkindness in gently prodding us along, correcting us, chastising us, tenderly leading us in the way we should go. And all along the way allowing us to exercise our will and affections of our hearts…and…(mind trails off in awe and wonder)

O, beloved! Let us Together, with the trees, clap our hands and rejoice and sing praises to our God! For He is indeed good.

Caterpillars And Diamonds

Better is the end of a thing than its beginning.

— Ecclesiastes 7:8

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Look at David’s Lord and Master; consider His beginning. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Then look at the end! He sits at His Father’s right hand, waiting until His enemies are made His footstool. ‘As He is so are we also in the world.’ You must bear the cross or you will never wear the crown; you must wade through the water or you will never walk the golden pavement. Cheer up, then, poor Christian. ‘Better is the end of a thing than it’s beginning.’

View the creeping worm — how contemptible its appearance! It is the beginning of a thing. Mark that insect with gorgeous wings, playing in the sunbeams, sipping at the flowers, fullness of happiness and life — that is the worm’s end. You are that caterpillar, wrapped up in the chrysalis of death; but when Christ appears, you will be like Him, for you will see Him as He is. Be content to be like Him, a worm and no man, so that like Him you may be satisfied when you wake up in His likeness.

The rough-looking diamond is put upon the wheel of a gem-smith. He cuts it on all sides. It loses much — much that seems costly to itself. The king is crowned; the diadem is put upon the monarch’s head accompanied by the trumpet’s joyful sound. A glittering ray flashes from that coronet, and it beams from that same diamond that was so recently fashioned at the wheel. You may venture to compare yourself to such a diamond, for you are one of God’s people; and this is the time of the cutting process.

Let faith and patience have their perfect work, for in the day when the crown is set upon the head of the King, eternal, immortal, invisible, one ray of glory shall stream from you. ‘They shall be mine, says the Lord of Hosts, in the day when I make up my treasured possession.’ ‘Better is the end of a thing than its beginning.’

- Morning and Evening, December 30, Morning (C.H. Spurgeon)

O, beloved!

There are days when you just want to be at the end already, yes? When your body, mind, and heart are weary, and you long to lay your head down in a soft, safe space? I know, beloved; I know…

The end will be glorious, won’t it?! It’s a joy to be able to anticipate such never-ending gladness Together!

But, beloved? The butterfly? She doesn’t start out as such, does she? Nay, sweet one. She begins her life as a caterpillar, inching along the ground, so very slowly; weak, a wee bit slimy, looking something like a small serpent, perhaps? Unnoticed at best; contemptible to most? (Of course, not to me - you know how much I love insects!)

We’re like her, beloved - not much to look at really at the start, and as we grow, we too become wrapped up in the chrysalis of death, still and slow. It looks like nothing is happening in that translucent sack. Time drags on and on. We’re tempted to fret - what is even happening in there?! But O beloved! What joy when she emerges - absolutely beautiful and full of life, vivid in color, delicate but strong, able to fly! She’s been transformed, beloved! Been given wings to soar ever upward, toward her good and merciful King!

And beloved?

So too are we like the rough stone, yes? His image, it’s there, hidden inside of us somewhere, somehow since before Time began…but it’s temporarily obscured by sin. It’s not yet as breathtaking as it will One Day be! We aren’t as breathtaking as we will One Day be!

But His chisel is at work even now, beloved. Can you feel it, carefully, rather painfully, cutting away all that separates us from Him and threatens to destroy us? He’s trying to get rid of all the ugly, needless bits, so the glorious bits can be more fully revealed and shine forth for His pleasure, yes?

He asked His very own Son to bear such pain, did He not? Not that He was sinful, of course - and yet, He willingly took on all our sin, all our pain. Christ Himself underwent such a transformation, from a wee, helpless babe in a stable to the reigning, victorious King of all of heaven and all of earth! And by what means, beloved? By the bearing of His cross.

And so, the end is better than the beginning, sweet one. Aye, it is indeed so!

But, beloved, let us not lose sight of the truth that the chrysalis, the chisel, the cross…these are His necessary tools, His merciful instruments, which He uses expertly to take us from a less desirable state to a more desirable state. Please, let us not despise or shrink from His work in us, as painful as it may be. He is as tender as He can be, while still accomplishing His purposes, is He not? He only wants our ultimate good. The pain cannot be helped, but only serves to further the glorious transformation He so desires for us.

We will let faith and patience have their work, will we not? Gladly?

We’re still at the beginning, beloved! He isn’t finished yet! But the end will come! And when it does, I pray that He will look upon us Together with tenderness and whisper gently in our ears, ‘Well done, my beloved boy, my beloved girl - well done indeed! Come! Dwell with me forever! All I have is yours! You have asked and now, now is when I grant your every desire! Enter in and be at Peace!’

May it be so.

Amen.

All Hail The King!

If we had been sold merely as slaves, men and women, I would have been silent, for our affliction is not to be compared with the loss to the king.

– Esther 7:4

These words…they are beautiful to me, for so many reasons.

I find it helpful though, first, to consider the context: Esther was only bringing this to the king’s attention because of the dire circumstances: “For we have been sold, I and my people, to be destroyed, to be killed, and to be annihilated.” Haman was trying to make a full end of the Jews. This reminds me of Jeremiah 5:10 when God was declaring righteous judgment on Jerusalem: “Go up through her vine rows and destroy, but make not a full end.”

Esther, here, is responding beautifully to this situation, yes, but also in her petition to the king! What is slavery and a bit of affliction, when compared with a loss to the king? What honor, what respect, what reverence she had for him! It would be inconsequential, she says, but wait...to make a full end? Now, that is something. That cannot be. No sir.

Also, note what she said: “I would have been silent.” This reminds me of yet another example of how Esther typified our King’s forbearance of Love expressed in Isaiah 53:7:

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth.

For silence is indeed a covering, a bearing of love for another, yes? — 1 Corinthians 13:7: “Love bears all things…” Notice how she was confessing her love for the king in that she would have even kept silent had she needed to bear slavery and affliction for the good of her king! She wouldn’t have uttered a word of complaint or despised the king for such forbearance. Nay. She would have been silent.

O, beloved, we should have a likeminded perspective towards our King, yes? We should not only welcome slavery and possible affliction on behalf of our Beloved King, but aye…we deserve such…and worse! Yet, did our King count equality with God a thing to be grasped? No, beloved. He emptied Himself, took on human form and became a servant — all so that we would not suffer God’s righteous wrath and rightful judgment, but also! that we would not be brought to a full end – aye. And! our King not only said He would be silent, but did keep silence. He could have drowned us in shame and reproach, all with words of righteous truth. But…He chose to bear all of that shame and suffering for us. O, beloved – what love!

This statement of Esther’s, it’s much more than a respectful and adoring sentiment toward the king. It embodies sacrificial love, yes, but it also typifies the loving character of our merciful God.

My! His mercy! His love! I wish I had proper words to express my gratitude and reverence and awe for such a Beautiful King as ours!

May He receive all glory and honor and praise forever and ever! Amen.

A Choice Presented

O, soul! Once lost, broken;
Fear-taught, prone to grasp.
Lo! Beauty, given; grace bestowed –
Consider, O heart: ask.

What! ‘Tis a glimmer of hope?
Opportunity perceived – ripe.
O, heart! careful now.
A choice presented: forthright.

Will thou reach? Take? Clasp?
Nay! – Ask.

Come, beloved.

Faith: practically we apply;
our fleshly will: (sigh)

“Trust in Me” – says He.
Will thou heave?
”O, child – come!”
”Believe.”

Beloved!
Opportunity cost, see?
Aye, our cross, indeed –
Therefore, we: plea.

Softly And Tenderly

Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling —
Calling for you and for me;
Patiently Jesus is waiting and watching —
Watching for you and for me!

Come Home! Come Home!
Ye who are weary, come Home!
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come Home!

Why should we tarry when Jesus is pleading —
Pleading for you and for me?
Why should we linger and heed not His mercies,
Mercies for you and for me?

Time is now fleeting, the moments are passing —
Passing from you and from me;
Shadows are gathering, death-beds are coming,
Coming for you and for me.

Oh, for the wonderful love He has promised —
Promised for you and for me!
Though we have sinned, He has mercy and pardon —
Pardon for you and for me!

-Will L. Thompson-

Storming The Battlements

Go ye up upon her walls, and destroy; but make not a full end: take away her battlements; for they are not the Lord's.

— Jeremiah 5:10 (KJV)

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Jerusalem had sinned against God; she had rebelled against the most High, had set up for herself false gods, and bowed before them; and when God threatened her with chastisement, she built around herself strong battlements and bastions. She said "I am safe and secure. What though Jehovah hath gone away, I will trust in the gods of nations. Though the Temple is cast down, yet we will rely upon these bulwarks and strong fortifications that we have erected." "Ah!" says God, "Jerusalem, I will punish thee. Thou art my chosen one, therefore will I chastise thee. I will gather together mighty men, and will speak unto them; I will bid them come unto thee, and they shall visit thee for these things. My soul shall be avenged on such a nation as this." And he calls together the Chaldeans and Babylonians, and says to those fierce men who speak in uncouth language, "Go ye up upon her walls, and destroy; but make not a full end: take away her battlements, for they are not the Lord's." Thus God used wicked men to be his scourge to chastise a still more wicked nation, who were yet the objects of his affection and love.

…

God says, "Go ye up against him make not a full end; take away his battlements, for they are not the Lord's." We fix our love and affection on some dear friend of ours, and there is our hope and trust. God says, "What though ye take counsel together, ye have not taken counsel of me, and therefore, I will take away your trust. What though ye have walked in piety, ye have not walked with me as ye should. Go ye up against her, O death! go ye against her, O affliction! Take away that battlement, it is not the Lord's. Ye shall live on me—ye shall not feed, like Ephraim, on the wind. Ye shall lean on my arm; ye shall not trust in the staff of these broken reeds. Ye shall set your affections on things above, and not on things on earth. For I will blast the Joy of earth. I will send a blight upon your fair harvest. I will make the clouds obscure your sun, and you shall cry unto me, 'O God, thou art my trust, my sun, my hope, my all.'"

Oh, what a mercy it is that he does not make a "full end," beloved! It may seem to be an end sometimes, but it is not a full end. There may be an end of our hopes, an end of our faith, an end of our confidence at times, but it is not a full end. There is a little hope left; there is just a drop of oil in the cruse, there is the handful of meal in the barrel: it is not the full end yet. Though he has taken away many joys, and blasted many hopes, though many of our fair flowers have been blighted, he has left something. One star will twinkle in the sky, one faint lamp glimmers from yonder distant cottage—thou art not quite lost, O wanderer of the night. He has not made a full end; but he may do, unless we come to him.

…

In the forefront of the city of Mansoul, frowns the wall of carelessness—an erection of Satanic masonry. It is made of black granite, and mortal art cannot injure it. Bring law, like a hugh pickaxe, to break it: you cannot knock a single ship off. Fire your shells at it: send against it all the hot cannon balls that any of the ten great mortars of the commandments can fire, and you cannot move it in the least. Bring the great battering ram of powerful preaching against it; speak with a voice that might wake the dead and make almost Satan tremble: the man sits careless and hardened. At last a gracious God cries out—"Take away her battlements, they are not the Lord's." And at a glance down crumbles the battlement. The careless man becomes tender-hearted, the soul that was hard as iron has become soft as wax; the man who once could laugh at gospel warnings, and despise the preaching of the minister, now sits down and trembles at every word. The Lord is in the whirlwind: now he is in the fire, yea, he is in the still small voice. Everything is heard now, for God has taken away the first battlement—the battlement of a hard heart and a careless life. Some of you have got as far as that, God has taken that away. I know many of you by the tears that glisten on your cheeks—those precious diamonds of heaven—testify that you are not careless.

…

Perhaps there are some here who have had their battlements taken away lately, and they think God is about to destroy them. You think you must perish, that you have no goodness, no hope, no help—nothing but a fearful looking for of judgment, and fiery indignation. Now, hear ye the last words, "make not a full end." God would make a "full end" of you if he did not take away your battlements, for you would then die inside the walls of self-sufficiency; but he says, "make not a full end." Rely, then, upon his power and grace, for he will not destroy thee.

- ‘Storming the Battlements’ - The New Park Street Pulpit Vol. 1 pg. 294-299 (C.H. Spurgeon)

O, heart!

Goodness. Such drama! Yes?

Aye.

You’re so quick – so prompt in fetching more barriers, gathering more building materials to construct your defense. Sometimes, they are meticulously arranged; other times they’re haphazardly thrown together in haste.

They will never do. They are no good. They aren’t from the Lord.

Your safety and security can only be found in God! Would you have it any other way? Why then, (exasperated) do you labor as such? Why!?

Don’t fight – there’s no use in resisting Him. He warms your cold heart, even now, do you see? What was lifeless, hard as a rock, is now soft and tender…malleable.

O, heart! Praise Him! Offer Him thanksgiving with every pulse, every beat! He has come to save! not destroy.

Let down your guard, O heart. (gentle)

Put your trust in God. He is good.

Trust And Obey

When we walk with the Lord
In the light of His Word,
What a glory He sheds on our way;
While we do His good will,
He abides with us still,
And with all who will trust and obey.

Trust and obey,
For there’s no other way
To be happy in Jesus,
But to trust and obey.

Not a shadow can rise,
Not a cloud in the skies,
But His smile quickly drives it away;
Not a doubt or a fear,
Not a sigh or a tear,
Can abide while we trust and obey.

Not a burden we bear,
Not a sorrow we share,
But our toil He doth richly repay;
Not a grief or a loss,
Not a frown or a cross,
But is blest if we trust and obey.

But we never can prove
The delights of His love,
Until all on the altar we lay;
For the favor He shows,
And the joy He bestows,
Are for them who will trust and obey.

Then in fellowship sweet
We will sit at His feet,
Or we’ll walk by His side in the way;
What He says we will do,
Where He sends we will go,
Never fear, only trust and obey.

-John H. Sammis-

Consider The Baby Chick

O, beloved!

You’re hungry. You’re begging, pleading, persistently – I know.

You…at times, foolishly, wonder if your incessant cries for help are met with annoyance, irritation, or perhaps even displeasure, yes?

I’d like you to consider with me, please, the baby chick. (gentle)

She’s utterly helpless, sitting there in the nest. See? She’s frightened, for so many reasons! A constant supply of chirps go out.

Each one, it seems, with an ever-pressing concern; heightened fretful worries plague her, incessantly – aye!

She’s anxious, and in great need! Her hardly developed mini-molt is poor and meek; one, dare not call them “feathers” – no. They’re much too thin and spindly for providing warmth. She isn’t able to stay warm without crying out for help. She needs to be taken underwing. She cannot live alone.

Her beak is endlessly squawking; laboring continuously night and day. In part, tweeting noisily, asking again and again: making each and every need known, very known indeed! But every now and then the air is met with silence, as she opens wide, waiting, expectantly (sometimes patiently, sometimes not), to be fed. She’s hungry. Her tiny belly can only hold enough food for a short period of time. So, this cycle continues, repeatedly, without ceasing.

I wonder…does the mother hen provide for her young, reluctantly? Does she expect her baby chick to go fend for herself and provide for her needs on her own? No. (tender) She is happy to supply each and every need. It is not only her duty, her purpose, but her great pleasure! What satisfaction! she gains in fulfilling each and every desire, yes?

Beloved? We’re an awful lot like baby chicks, yes? We’re helpless, frightened, and hungry. But our loving Father delights to provide for us. It is His great pleasure to satisfy. Let us not fear, please.

It might take a little longer than we expect. He may not satisfy us exactly the way our limited minds can imagine, here and now…but He loves us. We must not doubt His goodness. He calls us His own.

O, beloved! Let us cry out to Him, again, and again, and again. Let’s not try and climb out of the nest and seek food or shelter for ourselves and fall down, down, down.

May we pour out our souls to Him, and wait patiently – He will provide.

On Begging

…the Lord appear(s) in His glory. His Zion is to be built up, and therefore her King puts on the robes of His splendor. The imagery sets forth the Lord as a great monarch, superintending with great pomp and state the building of a sumptuous palace…Trumpets are sounding, banners are displayed, princes and nobles glitter in their array, and the King appears in His glory!

But who is this whose mournful wail disturbs the harmony? Whence comes this ragged mendicant who bows before the Prince? Surely he will be dragged away by the soldiery, or cast into prison by the warders, for daring to pollute so grand a ceremonial by such wretched presumption! Were there not streets, and lanes, and dark corners enough for beggars? Why need he thrust himself in where his rags are so much out of place?

But see, the King hears him, the sound of the trumpet has not drowned the voice of the destitute. His Majesty listens to him while he asks an alms, and in matchless compassion pities all his groans. Who is this King but Jehovah? Of Him only it is said, ‘He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and not despise their prayer.’

The verse is enhanced in its beauty by its connection, even as a fair jewel receives an added beauty from the lovely neck upon which it sparkles. Let us read the verse again in this soft silver light. ‘When the Lord shall build up Zion, He shall appear in His glory. He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and not despise their prayer.’ It is clear that the heart of the Lord delights in the cries of needy souls, and nothing can prevent His hearing them. No occupation is so sublime as to distract the Lord’s attention from the prayer of the humblest of His mourners. The songs of seraphs, the symphonies of angels, the ceaseless chorales of the redeemed, are not more sweet in the ears of the all-merciful Jehovah than the faint breathings of poor dying wretches who confess themselves condemned by His justice, and, therefore, appeal to His lovingkindness and tender mercy.

. . .

The spiritual pauper is, in our text, described as destitute, and you may only take the word in its extreme sense — the spiritually poor man is not only positively but utterly, thoroughly, terribly destitute…The poverty which is upon him is one which he cannot endure, or for a moment rest under; it is a heavy yoke to him, he sighs and cries under it. His is hungering and thirsting after righteousness. He knows there is something better than the state into which he has fallen, and he pines for it; he knows that if he doesn’t escape from his present condition, he will fall into woes infinitely worse, and he trembles at the grim prospect of it, and therefore he sighs and cries before God in bitterness of spirit. ‘Have mercy upon Thy poor destitute creature! Have mercy upon Thine undeserving servant!’
. . .

…He has taken to begging, and it is a very fitting occupation for him, indeed there is nothing else he can do…Ho, spiritual paupers, this day, even this day, is a day of grace; a warrant has come from the King’s court that you may ask and it shall be given to you, you may seek and you shall find, you may knock and it shall be opened unto you. Yea, every day is a free-grace day, a festival for prayer; long as you live and are in necessity, you have the King’s permit to open your mouth wide and He will fill it; you have His royal authority that you may come to His mercy-seat and ask in every time of need right boldly for whatsoever you want.

. . .

Let me further remind every spiritually destitute man here that he may pray with confidence, because begging has been the source of all the riches of the saints. Some of them are rolling in heavenly wealth, for all things are theirs. Their mouths are satisfied with good things, and their hearts are filled with gladness. You may see their riches, for the joy of their countenances, and the bliss of their daily work are visible to all. Do you not envy them, for they feed on Christ every day, and have the bread of heaven always on their tables, and the water of life always flowing at their feet? Do you know how they became so rich? I will whisper it in your ear. :) They gained all they have by begging.

- ‘Good News for the Destitute’ - The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Vol. 19 pg. 625-631 (C.H. Spurgeon)

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But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’

— Luke 18:13 (ESV)

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Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

— Matthew 5:3 (ESV)

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He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and not despise their prayer.

— Psalm 102:17 (KJV)

O, beloved.

I know how you always want to be strong — how there are times when you feel your tears or struggles reveal your weakness; how you desire to be Great-Faith, and at times, grow discouraged. But beloved? Do you see what good news this is? What grace and mercy He delights to impart when you, we are in this sorry state?

We think — ‘Surely our King must be most pleased when we are worshipping or rejoicing or doing something ‘big’ and ‘great’ for Him?! Surely He desires His subjects to come before Him in majesty — strong, clean, robed, pure?! Surely who I am, right at this very moment, Little Faith, isn’t ‘good enough’ for the God of all the universe, who created All from nothing?! The Holy One Himself?!’

But no, beloved! Don’t you see? The ‘greatest’ thing we could ever be in the eyes of our gracious King is a beggar! In our rags! In our stench! In our dreary state of sin! This, this is how we are to come to Him! And He, in His tender mercy, stops, and hears us. He has compassion on us, beloved — just as we are!

But neither does He leave us in the streets — hungry, thirsty, dirty, bruised, unkempt. Nay! He tenderly lifts us up, out of the gutter! He washes us in warm water, with pleasantly scented soap! He tends our wounds! He dresses us in a clean garment! He brings us into His home and prepares a feast for us, a safe place to rest! He delights to give to us abundantly, beloved! {in awe}

And what does He require from us? Only this: that we recognize our own poverty, our need for help, and that we ask Him, beloved. And not just ask, but that we beg Him! Beg Him to cleanse us and clothe us and lift us and comfort us and feed us! Beg Him for mercy! Beg Him to sustain us through all our many days apart from Him here!

And beg Him not just for the ‘bare necessities,’ beloved! What child goes around begging his father for toothpaste or a pencil or a pair of shoes?! No! Children beg for extravagant things, beloved! Things their father thinks are superfluous or too expensive, perhaps, but things that they genuinely, desperately want! And can a father always give such gifts to his children? No. Sometimes he says, ‘No!’ Or perhaps he needs more time to ‘save up’ for such a costly present! Or is waiting for just the right occasion to surprise the child! But beloved? What delight there is when a father can provide above and beyond, and a gift that is just what his child asked for?! Not just a bike, but the yellow one, with the streamers on the handlebars, and the white basket with a daisy on the front?!

And so, beloved — we beg!!! We grovel and bow low, prostrating our bodies, our spirits, our hearts, our minds before the King of All, in the hope that, we too, might One Day be able to say, Together - ‘O beloved! Just look at all of the riches He has chosen to bestow upon us! We have gained them all by our begging! What a good God we serve! He has bent low to hear us, and He has given us our every desire!’

May it be so, I beg you, Father.

Amen.

My Isaac

O, blissful Love, come in the flesh;
Seemed mine, though truly His.
‘Beloved child, what you adore,
That will you relinquish; give?’

‘O, Lord, please, no?’ All else, but this.
‘I cannot bear such loss!’
I hear my name, so tenderly;
You speak: ‘Behold, your cross.’

My heart cries out: ‘Lord, I will break,
For I’m not strong like You.’
‘Beloved,’ You whisper, to my soul:
‘I’m trying to make All New.’

So a feeble step toward the mountain
Risen early in the morn;
Cut the wood for the fire;
The sacrifice, Firstborn.

Tears streaming now and gathering,
All that is required:
The knife, the wood, the offering —
The one my soul desires.

Pleading once more, a better way;
‘Anything, anyone, please?’
‘Be still, my child,’ I hear in my ear:
‘You know not what you’ll receive:’

‘I’m trying to trust, my Father;
I know that You are Sure.
But if I truly open my hands,
What hell will I endure?’

‘Hush, little one,’ You say so low,
‘I will provide; take heart!’
Though fear still rages, aching pangs;
I submit, though only in part.

Together to the altar:
‘But Father, where’s the lamb?’
Beloved bound, laid low and giv’n;
‘Now, slaughter, Abraham.’

O, promised Love, come in the flesh;
We lift our eyes in Hope.
Please intervene, in Your great mercy?
Yield, lend, revoke?

‘A ram in the thicket?,’ I plead aloud,
‘Don’t lay your hand on him?’
My sweet little boy, my life and joy!
I beg You! All we’ve been!?

My Love, a living sacrifice,
Do what You must; I concede.
But if You can’t take this cup from me,
Promise You’ll meet his needs?

He needs Your love and Your embrace,
Comforted; tenderly held.
Your bosom for his resting place,
A haven in which to dwell.

O, be his best Beloved?
The One who is his All.
Refresh his weary spirit;
Harken his ear to Your beckoning call.

The Story ends not with sadness,
Nor death, nor loss, nor pain.
But blessing, glory, Life!
With star-lit skies and sandy grains.

‘Because You have obeyed My voice,
Your honor and love I now know.’
O, gracious Lord, Immanuel;
To whom else could we go?

You alone are the Giver,
We lay down before Thy feet,
Weeping, worshipping, tender;
Relinquishing, trusting, sweet.

We bear this cross with willing heart,
Your pleasure, our utmost aim.
Love, to us You’ve granted;
May we in Love remain.

And I Will Heal Him

For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: "I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite. For I will not contend forever, nor will I always be angry; for the spirit would grow faint before me, and the breath of life that I made. Because of the iniquity of his unjust gain I was angry, I struck him; I hid my face and was angry, but he went on backsliding in the way of his own heart. I have seen his ways, but I will heal him; I will lead him and restore comfort to him and his mourners, creating the fruit of the lips. Peace, peace, to the far and to the near," says the LORD, "and I will heal him.

—Isaiah 57:14-19

O, Blessed Day!

The Lord blessed the Seventh day and hallowed it.

– Exodus 20:11 (KJV)

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Beam on us brightly, blessed day,
Dawn softly for our Savior’s sake;
And waft thy sweetness o’er our way,
To draw us heavenward when we wake.

O holy life that shall not end,
Light that will never cease to be –
May every Sabbath-day we spend,
Add to our happiness in Thee.

– Anna Laetitia Waring (1823 - 1910)