Sacred Poems: Peace

My Soul, there is a country
Afar beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged Sentry
All skillful in the wars.
There, above noise and danger,
Sweet peace sits, crown’d with smiles,
And One born in a manger
Commands the beauteous files.
He is your gracious friend
And (O my Soul awake!)
Did in pure love descend,
To die here for your sake.
If you can get but thither,
There grows the flower of peace,
The rose that cannot wither,
Your fortress, and your ease.
Leave then your foolish ranges;
For none can you secure,
But One, who never changes,
Your God, your Life, your Cure.

—Henry Vaughan (1622-1695)

The Knight & His Lady

In old Armorica, now Brittany,
There was a knight that loved and strove, did he
To serve a lady in the highest wise;
And many a labor, many a great emprise
He wrought for her, or ever she was won.
For she was of the fairest under the sun,
And therewithal come of so high kindred
That scarcely could this noble knight, for dread,
Tell her his woe, his pain, and his distree.
But at the last she, for his worthiness,
And specially for his meek obedience,
Had so much pity that, in consequence,
She secretly was come to his accord
To take him for her husband and her lord,
Of such lordship as men have over wives;
And that they might be happier in their lives,
Of his free will he swore to her, as knight,
That never in his life, by day or night,
Would he assume a right of mastery
Against her will, now show her jealousy,
But would obey and do her will in all
As any lover of his lady shall.

—Geoffrey Chaucer (1343-1400)

A Mystery of Light

There is no antagonism between prayer in time and the unchangeable will of God in eternity, for Christ is the bridge, the solution of all problems, the peaceful light in our darkness. He reveals prayer as a mystery, but a mystery of light, dark by excess of brightness. Jesus is the archetype of prayer. We are made the sons of God in Him, and our great High Priest enables us to enter with Him into the Holy of Holies. We pray because Christ is in us, and the Father is in Christ.

—The Lord’s Prayer, pg. 13 (Adolph Saphir)


When Jesus had spoken these words, he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and said, “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all flesh, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. I glorified you on earth, having accomplished the work that you gave me to do. And now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had with you before the world existed.

“I have manifested your name to the people whom you gave me out of the world. Yours they were, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything that you have given me is from you. For I have given them the words that you gave me, and they have received them and have come to know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me. I am praying for them. I am not praying for the world but for those whom you have given me, for they are yours. All mine are yours, and yours are mine, and I am glorified in them. And I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, keep them in your name, which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one. While I was with them, I kept them in your name, which you have given me. I have guarded them, and not one of them has been lost except the son of destruction, that the Scripture might be fulfilled. But now I am coming to you, and these things I speak in the world, that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves. I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sake I consecrate myself, that they also may be sanctified in truth.

“I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me. Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world. O righteous Father, even though the world does not know you, I know you, and these know that you have sent me. I made known to them your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.”

—John 17


…our lifelong nostalgia, our longing to be reunited with something in the universe from which we now feel cut off, to be on the inside of some door which we have always seen from the outside, is no mere neurotic fancy, but the truest index of our real situation. And to be at last summoned inside would be both glory and honour beyond all our merits and also the healing of that old ache.

And this brings me to the other sense of glory—glory as brightness, splendour, luminosity. We are to shine as the sun, we are to be given the Morning Star. I think I begin to see what it means. In one way, of course, God has given us the Morning Star already: you can go and enjoy the gift on many fine mornings if you get up early enough. What more, you may ask, do we want? Ah, but we want so much more—something the books on aesthetics take little notice of. But the poets and the mythologies know all about it. We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words—to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.

At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in. When human souls have become as perfect in voluntary obedience as the inanimate creation is in its lifeless obedience, then they will put on its glory, or rather that greater glory of which Nature is only the first sketch. For you must not think that I am putting forward any heathen fancy of being absorbed into Nature. Nature is mortal; we shall outlive her. When all the suns and nebulae have passed away, each one of you will still be alive. Nature is only the image, the symbol; but it is the symbol Scripture invites me to use. We are summoned to pass in through Nature, beyond her, into that splendour which she fitfully reflects.

And in there, in beyond Nature, we shall eat of the tree of life. At present, if we are reborn in Christ, the spirit in us lives directly on God; but the mind, and still more the body, receives life from Him at a thousand removes—through our ancestors, through our food, through the elements. The faint, far-off results of those energies which God’s creative rapture implanted in matter when He made the worlds are what we now call physical pleasures; and even thus filtered, they are too much for our present management. What would it be to taste at the fountain-head that stream of which even these lower reaches prove so intoxicating? Yet that, I believe, is what lies before us. The whole man is to drink joy from the fountain of joy. As St. Augustine said, the rapture of the saved soul will “flow over” into the glorified body. In the light of our present specialized and depraved appetites we cannot imagine this torrens voluptatis, and I warn everyone seriously not to try. But it must be mentioned, to drive out thoughts even more misleading—thoughts that what is saved is a mere ghost, or that the risen body lives in numb insensibility. The body was made for the Lord, and these dismal fancies are wide of the mark.

—The Weight of Glory (C.S. Lewis)


O, beloved.

These words…

Christ…is the peaceful light in our darkness. He reveals prayer as a mystery, but a mystery of light, dark by excess of brightness.

…they are beautiful, are they not? (tender)

This ‘mystery of light’…isn’t this such a dazzling, magnificent truth? We’re…surrounded by mystery in this life—aye—and yet, if we’re honest, it’s a…bewildered sort of euphoria, if perceived rightly.

(pondering) I think…if we could somehow distill it down to a single concept, it might be something like this: our sinful nature, by default, distorts truth—we spew forth lies of what we call ‘love’—this is, I think, rightly understood to be ‘darkness’; God, in infinite grace and mercy, gives us His Words, His Words of Light, He speaks His story—History—and slowly but surely, over time, His Spirit redeems us and we are resurrected from darkness to Light, from our own befuddled darkness of ‘understanding’ to divine Love. What a perplexing mystery this is—this mystery of coming to know true Love, coming to know God as Love!

Speaking of ‘mystery’—this makes me think of Colossians 2:2:

…that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ.

Christ is God’s mystery. (amazed) O, what depths of riches can be found in this phrase! What marvelous wonders! What glorious truths! O, how I long to be ‘knit Together in love’—and this is the way by which we reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and knowledge of God’s mystery—Christ Himself?! (in awe) O, Father! Yes. Please. (fervent, hopeful) What breathtaking splendor! What radiance, and glory! O, my soul…be still. (reverent) O, God, your brilliance…it leaves me dazed and confused! (giddy) Your effulgence, it’s…blinding, O Lord! Yes…(pondering)—‘blinding’…

dark by excess of brightness.

So much of life here—we can’t make any sense of it. We’re…so…used to darkness—fear and shame, yes beloved? (gentle) But this…‘excess’ of brightness! it has us all stunned, discombobulated, and confounded in the most resplendent of ways! Does it not? It…all seems…too lovely, too wonderful.

It’s like…(pondering, trying to find the right analogy)…a poor little bat—let’s call him ‘Dank’, no…(pondering) ‘Dismal Dank’, yes that will do quite nicely. (satisfied) Dismal Dank, he’s…nocturnal and he’s only accustomed to the dark. He feels safest there—he feels no need for light, no, not really. (humph, wings crossed, refractory) He’s equipped with echolocation—“thank you very much”—he can probe around in the dark just fine, or so he thinks. What Dismal Dank doesn’t realize is that bats have eyes just like humans and bats can see just as well as humans can with their eyes—or so the internet says! (contemplative) And…in jeopardy of taking this analogy too far—let’s just see how far we can take it, shall we? (playful)—the abode Dismal Dank occupies (pauses to clarify something: Dismal Dank calls it his ‘abode’ but when he’s feeling particularly snooty, he refers to it as his ‘castle’ but we all know quite well the space he occupies can simply be stated as a ‘cleft in a rock’) is quite small. Moreover, Dismal Dank’s wings have become derelict, verily so. (sorrowful) For he’s never had the space, the opportunity, the freedom to flap his wings long enough to feel the wind tickling his wing membranes. Dismal Dank is… well…quite dismal. (sigh) One Day, a most terrifying thing happened—yes (pauses for dramatic effect)—a great and most disturbing influence disrupted his regularly scheduled, and most sacred time of what he considered most precious to him: the self acclaimed and most cherished arrangement—one might even call it a relished ritual of sorts—his harbored occasion to ‘lick his wounds’ so to speak, to lament and fully admire and cultivate all of his acquired self pity—it was a particularly treasured time for Dismal Dank, a moment to do something worth doing, to actualize some good ol’ fashion brooding. But…just when he was about to review, for the umpteenth time, his miseries again—delightedly, of course—just for good measure, he was blinded by some mysterious thing: light. This light, it was…very…peculiar to him. (perplexed) It…seemed quite strange; it allowed him to…see, with his eyes! (slightly disgruntled, perturbed) Dismal Dank did not respond with cheerful gratitude—no. This challenged everything he’d come to know, everything he’d learned, everything he prided himself on. He’d become especially well known for his advanced and most impressive echolocation abilities amongst other bats. He was entirely self reliant, you see? Now…(pauses) Gentle reader—beloved, may I have a word with you please, alone? Shh. (said in a hushed tone) As a bystander, observing this analogy, perhaps you’re questioning Dismal Dank’s wit—is it possible to think he’s truly this…dense? This…naive? Has he not the slightest clue as to all the wonders, all the benefits, all the mysterious blessings of light?! Quiet your spirit, please. Listen. (gentle) You may not be so very different from him, O child of God. Let us consider Together a bit more how things pan out for this fella, shall we? Yes? Good. Yes, where were we now? (ahem) Oh yes…Dismal Dank’s predicament and the most mysterious light, absorbing all his darkness, totally disrupting all that he’s come to know and love—yes. Can we…sympathize with him for a brief moment, please? Let us state the fact of the matter: we may as well come right out and say it for what it is. There’s no use in ‘beating around the bush’ as they say. The truth is this: Dismal Dank no longer has any use of his familiar and, might I add, perfectly functional echolocation anymore. Not with light. Alas. What good is it to the bat with eyes and light!? (deep sigh) It’s almost as if…he’ll need to learn how to properly use depth perception of objects all over again! (exasperated) Or…could he continue to use echolocation in the light, still? (he: hopeful) And so it was, at first—Dismal Dank waged war against this mysterious light in utter defiance, daily, hourly, moment…by…painful moment. He would shut his eyes tight, he’d try and flap his wings and soar out in the open…but without objects close at hand (you may be eager in correcting me—thinking I should have used a more astutely accurate term ‘wing’ for this synecdoche, however, I’d like to take this moment to gently make it known that the Greek word for bat is χείρπτερόν and I’ll have you know that χείρ / cheir, is a feminine noun for ‘hand’ and πτερόν / pteron, means ‘feather’ or ‘wing’) his echolocation didn’t…work quite so well and he’d go smack dab into ‘this’ tree or ‘that’ one. It…was the most frustrating thing he’d ever encountered. In fact, his ‘brooding episodes’ evolved—they blossomed into multi-day escapades until he eventually collapsed in weariness of his own self-loathing. (deep sigh) Truly, it was an even more miserable experience than before—this appearance of ‘light’, at first. But…over time, he…depended on echolocation less and less, he learned to use his eyes more; he learned to trust the light. His depth perception, using his eyes, got better too! Of course, he still has a relapse every now and then, where he…ashamedly tries to go back to the old way of things—he sometimes slips back into using echolocation, as if he were still in the dark. But now that he’s basking in the light—this glorious but mysterious light—there’s no need. No sir. Oh! One final thing, I should mention, I almost forgot. Dismal Dank, if you go looking for him, you won’t find him. (gentle) Three reasons:

  1. He’s an entirely fictitious creature. So…there’s that. (playful)

  2. He’s usually off exploring, soaring high in the sky (bats are the only mammals capable of true and sustained flight…I could go on and explain how their anatomy allows for this, but…I’ll save that for another day).

  3. Nobody calls him Dismal Dank anymore. His friends simply call him ‘Sunny.’

Beloved? (gentle) Do you see?

We’re an awful lot like Dismal Dank. We…grope around in the dark when we try and live and make sense of things on our own.

He graciously, mysteriously—Light: Love—shines upon us with the full splendor of His glory. And we…kick and scream, in part, because we’re still learning how to use our eyes of faith instead of our physical eyes, and ears, and touch, and feelings, and mind, and heart—all complex and intricately sophisticated mechanisms of our own ‘echolocation’ so to speak. It…doesn’t…work so well, though, out in the open, as we soar way up high in the sky, as we try and commune with our King, as we cry out to Him in prayer. (gentle) I hope…I trust, some Day, He’ll redeem and restore our God-given, yet corrupted (for now) ‘echolocation’—all our natural senses (Romans: 8:21). But, until Then, let’s rely on it sparingly, yes? (gentle) Let’s try and learn, re-learn how to properly use depth perception—how to navigate all the glorious mysteries of this life and the next using these new-found ‘eyes of faith’, for now with His light—this mysterious Light—we can truly see.

Tis’ a mystery of Light—indeed—but it is good.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them dance; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

—William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

From 'Emblems'

My Soul is like a Bird; my Flesh, the Cage;
Wherein, she wears her weary Pilgrimage
Of hours as few as evil, daily fed
With sacred Wine, and Sacramental Bread;
The keys that lock her in, and lets her out,
Are Birth, and Death; ‘twist both, she hops about
From perch to perch; from Sense to Reason; then,
From higher Reason, down to Sense again:
From Sense she climbs to Faith; where, for a season,
She sits and sings; then, down again to Reason;
From Reason, back to Faith; and straight, from thence
She rudely flutters to the Perch of Sense;
From Sense to Hope; then hops from Hope to Doubt;
From Doubt, to dull Despair; there, seeks about
For desperate Freedom; and at every Gate,
She wildly thrusts, and begs the untimely date
Of unexpired thraldom, to release
The afflicted Captive, that can find no peace:
Thus am I cooped within this fleshly Cage,
I wear my youth, and waste my weary Age,
Spending that breath which was ordained to chant
Heaven’s praises forth, in sighs and sad complaint:
While happier birds can spread their nimble wing
From Shrubs to Cedars, and there chirp and sing,
In choice of raptures, the harmonious story
Of man’s Redemption and his Maker’s Glory:
You glorious Martyrs; you illustrious Troops,
That once were cloistered in your fleshly Coops.
Great Lord of souls, to whom should prisoners fly,
But You? You had Your Cage, as well as I:
And, for my sake, Your pleasure was to know
The sorrows that it brought, and felt them too;
O set me free, and I will spend those days,
Which now I waste in begging, in Your praise.

—Francis Quarles (1592-1644)

Love Bade Me Welcome

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lacked anything.
'A guest,’ I answered, ‘worthy to be here;’
Love said, ‘You shall be he.’

'I, the unkind, the ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on Thee.’
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
’Who made the eyes but I?’
'Truth, Lord, but I have marred them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.’
'And know you not,’ says Love, ‘who bore the blame?’
’My dear, then I will serve.’
'You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste My meat.’
So I did sit and eat.

—George Herbert (1593-1633)

Walk in Light

Shake off thy depression, dear brother. Abide not in the dark, but abide in the light. In Jesus is thy hope, thy joy, thy Heaven. Look to Him, to Him only, and thou shalt rejoice as the birds rejoice at sunrise, and as the angels rejoice before the throne.

faith’s checkbook - March 10th
(Charles H. Spurgeon)

O, weary soul. Do you remember Isaiah 1:18?

"Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool.”

He knows. He sees you in the dark. He still wants you to come. Come then—come to Jesus. Bask in the radiance of His splendor. He will make you anew. He will restore, and redeem. O, beloved, He is our hope and our salvation. Put your trust in Him, O weary heart. Put your trust in Him.

It Is Good

And God saw everything that He had made, and behold, it was very good.
And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

—Genesis 1:31

—-

I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God’s gift to man.

—Ecclesiastes 3:12-13

—-

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!

—Psalm 34:8a

—-

After God finishes each creative work in Genesis 1, He declares His creation ‘good’ and lavishly gives us free reign to enjoy its goodness. It is no accident that the psalmist enjoins us to taste and see that the Lord is good—not simply to reason or confess that God is good, but to taste it. My body, this tea, and the quiet twilight are teaching me God’s goodness through my senses. I’m tasting, hearing, feeling, seeing, and smelling that God is good.

Pleasure is our deep human response to an encounter with beauty and goodness. In these moments of pleasure—of delight, enjoyment, awe, and revelry—we respond to God impulsively with our very bodies: ‘Yes, we agree! Your creation is very good.’

Mysteriously and wondrously, God revels even more than we do in the slight bitterness of tea, the feel of sunshine on skin, a ripe avocado, a perfect guitar lick, or a good plot twist. In ‘The Screwtape Letters,’ the senior demon Screwtape scolds his underling for allowing his patient the smallest experience of pleasure—a walk in a beautiful place, tea, or a good book which he read ‘because he enjoyed it and not in order to make clever remarks about it to his friends.’ Both pleasure and pain, says Screwtape, are ‘unmistakably real, and therefore…they give the man who feels them a touchstone of reality.’ He diabolically warns that people should not be allowed to maintain any ‘personal taste…even if it is something quite trivial such as a fondness for country cricket or collecting stamps or drinking cocoa.’ Though small practices of enjoyment may seem trivial, the demon sees in them ‘a sort of innocence and humility and self-forgetfulness.’

When we enjoy God’s creation, we reflect God Himself. God does not stoically pronounce creation ‘good,’ like a disinterested manager checking off a quality checklist so He can clock out early. God delights in the perfect acoustics of ocean waves, swoons over the subtle intensity of dark chocolate, and glories in robins’ eggs and peacock calls.

G.K. Chesterton saw in God a childlike wonder. Children never tire of beauty and pleasure. They embrace enjoyment with abandon. They don’t feel guilty about taking time to search for feathers, invent a game, or enjoy a treat. Chesterton imagines that God revels in the pleasure of His creation like an enthusiastic child:

Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘Do it again;’ and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.'“

We have sinned and grown old, and become dulled to the wonders around us. Though it may seem counterintuitive, enjoyment takes practice. Throughout our life we must relearn the abandon of revelry and merriment.

—-

We are not only grateful for pleasure; our hearts wonder what kind of Creator makes a world that overflows with such loveliness and beauty.

Being curators of beauty, pleasure, and delight is therefore an intrinsic part of our mission, a mission that recognizes the reality that truth is beautiful. These moments of loveliness—good tea, bare trees, and soft shadows—are ‘church bells.’ In my dimness, they jolt me to attention and remind me that Christ is in our midst. His song of truth, sung by His people all over the world, echoes down my ordinary street, spilling even into my living room.

—From ‘Liturgy of the Ordinary’ by Tish Harrison Warren, p. 129-140

—-

It is good, beloved. It is. (gentle, reassuring)

Let us consider, Together, all of the pleasures at our disposal, shall we? (tender, hopeful)

The smell and look and feel of old books. The warm cheesy goodness of a breakfast burrito—stuffed with sausage, potato, egg, green onion, cheddar cheese oozing. The birds singing sweetly. The cold breeze that blows our hair slightly. The warmth of sunlight on our face. The sound of gentle music, soothing songs. The flicker of a candle burning, the faint smell of pine and whiskey. Soft skin. Clean, cold water to drink. A hot shower. A fluffy towel. His material provision for us in so many ways. A pillow stuffed with feathers to hold when it is time to rest. A glorious sunrise. Mountains. Clouds. Trees. A garden growing. Bright orange carrots pulled from the dark, fertile earth. Peeling potatoes. Washing dishes. Lemon soap. Lilacs and peonies. The smell of freshly cut grass. Water meandering down a slow-moving brook in a green valley full of little, white buds. Fingers intertwined. Tender lips on one’s cheek. A quality ink pen. Milk chocolate and homemade pizza and an old-fashioned bottle of Coke, ice-cold. Hymns of long ago belted out, our voices blending into One. A new day. His mercy, His long-suffering, His Words to us. His Love.

O, beloved—let us marvel Together! Let us worship and honor and adore Him! His Beauty—it’s everywhere, ripe for the taking! Just like in the Garden, beloved, He gave all things for the good of His children; just like in the Garden, when He only withheld one thing, one thing they were meant not to grasp…O, beloved—let us learn from the folly of Adam and Eve, our first parents. (gentle, pleading) They too had Beauty everywhere. They could have relished and delighted in the glory He had already given them, my love! They could have, like little children, found more than enough to satisfy them in the ‘monotony’ of His blessed, newly created world! What if they would have fixated on each ray of sunshine, each drop of water, each flower petal, each morsel of food, each pleasant sound, each fragrant scent? (tender, pondering) What if they would have been so distracted by His present goodness that there was no room left for any striving, any pining for future blessing?

Come, my love! Let us not be so concerned with ‘this behavior’ or ‘that’ which we must stop or start, or ‘this thought’ or ‘that thought’, or even ‘obedience’ or ‘how we are to live’…no, beloved! (gentle) Rather, let us be consumed with His Beauty, His goodness, His creation, His provision, His Love! Nothing is ‘ordinary’ here. Nothing is purposeless. Nothing even exists except that it might help us to know more of our magnificent Lord! He is a God of Beauty and Freedom and All Good Things! He desires joy for us, and peace—not perpetual feelings of failure and self-pity, beloved—no! (earnest)

O, beloved—may we, like Him, be enthralled with the mysterious rhythms and repetition that exist here and now! May we, like Him, savor and soak in Beauty. May we know more of Him as we slow down, quiet our thoughts, and ask Him to suckle and satisfy our spirits like a newborn at His mother’s breast. May we sing and shout of His glory! May we delight in that which He has already so graciously given! May He give us eyes to see and ears to hear and hearts to know—without a doubt—that He is even now in our midst, revealing Himself in the most subtle, tender, thoughtful ways to us, day by day, moment by moment—in and through each of our senses, our ‘taking in’ of His goodness in this very place, in this very season, in this very state of our souls!

It is good, beloved. Our souls—jolted awake once again—know this to be true.

Hope in the Midst of Our Sin

He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high…

—Hebrews 1:3

—-

Why has this wonderful and glorious being, in whom all things are summed up, and who is before all things the Father’s delight and the Father’s glory; why has this infinite light, this infinite power, this infinite majesty, come down to our poor earth? For what purpose? To shine? To show forth the splendour of His majesty? To teach heavenly wisdom? To rule by His just and holy might? No! He came to purge our sins. What height of glory! what depth of abasement! Infinite is His majesty, and infinite is His self-humiliation, and the depth of His love. What a glorious Lord! And what an awful sacrifice of unspeakable love, to purge our sins by Himself!

Sin has brought Him down from heaven. Our defilement has drawn Him from the height of His glory. Oh, what an expression, what a climax! “Who being the brightness of His glory, and the express image of His being, and upholding all things by the word of His power, when He had by Himself purged our sins.”

Sin may be viewed as a transgression of God’s good, just, and holy law, deserving punishment, and bringing down the curse of God. Sin may be viewed as a disease unto death which requires healing. Sin is also defilement, and this view seems both the deepest and the most painful. Here perhaps we see most clearly and feel most painfully the difficulty, the utter impossibility, as far as man or angel is concerned, of being delivered from sin, and brought nigh unto the source of life, love, and blessedness.

Sin is a great and heavy burden. It is a departure from the Father’s house into a far country. It is ingratitude and rebelliousness, yea, even hatred of God. Power can lift and remove a burden. Compassion can seek the wayward and lost sheep, and follow it across hill, and moor, and wilderness until it finds it. Grace can stoop to declare unto an enemy the message of peace and good will. But sin is defilement. It is that which is loathsome to God, which fills His inmost being with repulsion. Think of our sins as defilement. Think of their number, of their heinousness! Who will remove this fearful and utterly loathsome iniquity which separates us hopelessly and infinitely from God in His holy and righteous love? Who will touch the leprosy? Who can take it out of the way, and cleanse the sinners, so that they appear pure and spotless in God’s sight?

The Son of God came to make the purification of our sins; and this, oh marvel of marvels! by Himself. Not like the high priest in Israel, offering something as a sacrifice; not with the blood, the life of another, but by Himself. He came into contact with this sin. He was the only one who could properly understand the true nature, depth, and guilt of sin. God of God, Son of the Father, He perfectly sympathized with the Father in His loathing and abhorrence of sin; but having befriended us, and having become one with us, He could not bear the thought of our being lost. So this loathsomeness of our iniquity, as loathsome to Jesus as to the Father, He takes upon Himself, as Joshua the high priest is seen by the prophet Zechariah. Jesus, perfect in His love to the holy and righteous Father, perfect in His love to the sinful and guilty people whom He came to save, with infinite hatred of sin and with infinite love of the sinner, enters, alone and unassisted, into that awful wilderness where, as our substitute and sin-bearer, He feels the Father’s face turned away from Him. As the expression of His agony, in which faith and love endured all things and triumphed, He utters the cry, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Then Jesus the Son of God purged by Himself our sins…

Sin is taken away. Oh, what a wonderful thing is this! When once you see that Jesus the Son of God died upon the cross, and purged your sins, and that because of His obedience unto death God hath exalted Him at His right hand, that, having effected by Himself this purification, He entered into heavenly glory, you have no more conscience of sin. You do not require day by day, as it were, to receive the forgiveness of your sins. You have been washed, you have been made clean, you have received full absolution and remission. Nay, more. In the heavenly sanctuary where Jesus is, sin no more can rise; and as you were crucified and buried with Him, so you are raised with Him, and seated together with Him in heavenly places. You need only to confess day by day, and with great humility, and contrition and sorrow, your continual transgressions and trespasses, that your feet may be washed. “He that is washed needeth not save to wash his feet, but is clean every whit: and ye are clean.” But conscience of sin you have no longer. And although, as Christ becomes clearer and dearer, we see and feel more our sinfulness and unworthiness, although with increasing sorrow and mourning we confess our unbelief and ingratitude, we have no longer conscience of sin, the conscience is free from the burden, and purified from the defilement of sin. As forgiven and accepted, as pure and spotless, as worshippers within the holiest of all, we appear before God: in the light of His love we behold, and acknowledge our sin.

Christ, the Son of God, the Lamb that was slain, is our High Priest, our Righteousness. What other—man invented and appointed—priest will intrude here? What other sacrifice can be mentioned? What works, offerings, or tears of our own can be thought of? Jesus, the Son of God, the Son of man, by Himself hath cleansed us from our sins.

The apostle has thus spoken of the greatness of Christ. Why does Jesus reveal His majesty and His glory? Not that we should tremble, and not merely that we should reverence and adore, but that our hearts should be drawn out to Him in love. The words of Jesus Himself in Matthew 11 are quite a parallel to our passage. Jesus first shows that no man knoweth the Father but the Son, and no man knoweth the Son but the Father, and that all things are given into His hands. Why does He say this? Why does He, as it were, exalt Himself, and reveal His dignity, and His divine authority over all creation? It is only that He may embrace us in His arms; it is only that He may add immediately, “Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

Oh, the more majestic and glorious Jesus appears to us, the sweeter will be our peace, and the more childlike our confidence! This great, this infinite, this glorious Jesus was attracted by your very sin, and by your very guilt, and by your very helplessness. It was to purge our iniquities that He came down from heaven. Let us know, that we have obtained mercy, and that we have received the forgiveness of our sins, even through the redemption by the blood of Christ. Let us know it, that henceforth we may no longer be the servants of sin, that henceforth we may no longer walk in darkness; but, being delivered from all fear, and brought nigh unto God in Jesus, we may walk in love even as the Saviour God has loved us, and that we who have obtained mercy may show in our daily walk that we are merciful, forgiving one another, and forbearing one another, and introducing into every branch of our life and every sphere of our activity the new principle of love, even the holy, forgiving, and renewing love of God. Amen.

—Adolf Saphir, The Epistle to the Hebrews: An Exposition, Volume 1, p. 62-69

—-

O, beloved—we hate our sin. I know we do. We desperately want to do what is right: to be obedient, to subdue our tendencies toward fleshly desires so that we might live by the Spirit in order to please Him. We get so very frustrated with ourselves when we stumble over and over and over again, I know. Our sin causes us great shame. We long to flee from it, be free from it; to escape its cold, hard grasp, the heavy burden that comes from carrying it here.

He came for this very purpose, beloved, do you know? (tender) To rid us of our sin. This is good news. Our sickness, our desperation, the worst bits of us—He came to heal and soothe and transform! Our sin, that which is loathsome to God, is no more! He knows it not, for He Himself has already borne it and disposed of it! And more!—it is what attracted Him to us, my sweet one. It makes Him want to hold us tenderly to His breast. It endears us to Him. It brings out His gentleness—seeing our immense struggle, our immense need.

But beloved? (gentle) We no longer need to sit in our feelings of shame and utter defeat, despising ourselves, for as He says in Romans 8:1, ‘There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.’ Do we grieve our sin mightily? Yes. Do we confess and repent, daily, moment by moment, begging Him for contrite, humble hearts? Yes. Do we do everything in our power to flee from sin and its power over us? Yes, beloved. But we simultaneously rest in His victory over sin; we simultaneously give Him praise for His making purification for our sins! We don’t find our identify in our sin and pain, my love. (gentle) We rejoice in that which causes us to need Him more than all else, do you see? (tender, hopeful)

We need not despair or loathe ourselves; we need not grumble about our many weaknesses, my precious one, or even wish them away. We can know peace nowright now. We will surely fail Him again, beloved, and yet, our ever-growing Love for Him affords us Hope; Hope that, as we see and know more and more of our Savior, our desire for sin, for anything but Him, will fade slowly away. He will become more and we will become less, my love. (tender) This is my prayer; this is our song. (strong)

‘The more majestic and glorious Jesus appears to us, the sweeter will be our peace, and the more childlike our confidence!’ O, beloved—might He be to us ever more precious, ever more desirable, ever more worthy until we, like little children, can put our full faith and trust in Christ and in Christ alone, for All Things! May it be so. May He hold us tightly all the days of our earthly lives, and may He graciously bring us safely Home, Together—His two little lambs, resting securely in His strong but gentle arms: forever and ever, One.

O, Lord, please, may it be so? (reverent, in awe, humbled, pleading with Him as never before)

Amen.

A Few Gentle Words

O, beloved! This God, our God—do you trust Him? You say you do, but do you, really, truly? You fret over silly things like your feelings getting hurt, or a squabbling over some toy or privilege you thought was yours. My dear child, may I remind you of something, please? (gentle) You already have all that you could ever want or need or wish for in Christ Jesus—the Creator and Sustainer of all things. And…if that weren’t enough for you, He’s also giving you the gift of anticipation and contrast, and a most glorious perspective to boot! Do you see? Rub those eyes of faith—invigorate them! Dust off those shelves of wonder and intrigue. Soften your grip, beloved, on this ill-mannered, frivolous grasping. He knows. He knows how many strands of hair you have right this moment, attached to your most precious body, and all the ones you’ve lost over time. Furthermore, He doesn’t just know how many, He perfectly, artfully, skillfully, lovingly crafts each and every one of them! (gentle) He brings Together all the right sort of molecules—the perfect blend of materials, and nutrients for the sacred construction. Aye, He provides the food your body needs, and delightfully works each strand, from within, and slowly, patiently provides precisely what it needed moment by moment, making them grow—allows them to become more and more glorious! Do you suppose this God, our God will not continue to sustain and provide, O my soul? (tender) Yes, the future is unknown, what a glorious and precious surprise! (delighted) Unknown realities—hidden things—these shall not concern us, these will not clutter our minds and hearts. Nay. We will give them no sustenance—no sir. (firm) What then shall we occupy ourselves with? What then is to be our aim, our purpose, our occupation? O, beloved! What do you suppose would be a proper response to such Love as this? Aye, I say: Gladness, joy, expectation, giddiness, thankfulness, child-like faith, awe-filled wonder, gratitude, reckless abandon for all ill-conceived frivolous grasping, hope, anticipation, longing, curiousness, eagerness, earnestness, zeal, patience—love. Do you trust Him? Do you believe? Aye. Then obey His Words. Feast on them, gorge yourself with them—with Him. Stand on your tippy-toes, pursue Him with your God-given intensity with no apology. Jesus, our King has already come to save, and redeem, and restore us. He’s already taken our sin upon His shoulders and covered our shame and guilt with His own righteousness. (tender) Let us throw ourselves upon Him in humble intensity. Those words may not go Together naturally, but with God, anything is possible. Come, kindred spirit, come! Let’s praise Him with unadulterated exuberance! Let’s trust Him! Let’s put our hope in God—our God!

Preparation

Beloved? (hesitant)

There are certain things I can only do for you when I’m not with you, do you know? (tender)

For example, when I want to give you a good gift, I must have the time and space to ponder what that good gift might be—what would bring my beloved the most pleasure, the most hope, the most joy—I wonder. I need to invest myself, at least to some degree, in obtaining or creating said gift. And I delight in its arrival and/or its completion! I want to wrap it perfectly, so that it’s ready to be given to you, my beloved, in what, I hope, is just the right time, in just the right way, with just the right spirit—with the right amount of tenderness and adoration and shared expectancy. I greatly anticipate giving you good gifts, beloved—so great is my joy!

If I was with you all the time, it would be much more difficult to focus on determining what would be a meaningful gift, the very best way I might go about attempting to show you my immense and ever-expanding love for you, do you see, beloved? (tender, hopeful) I couldn’t very well create it or obtain it or wrap it if you never left my side. (gentle) And there would be no anticipation, my love, for you would have seen the gift already, every step of the way—there would be no element of surprise, no moment of glory when I revealed it to you for the first time and I watched your face to try to gauge your reaction, to see if all my efforts had pleased you, my precious one. Do you see what I’m trying to say, beloved? Do you see my heart in this? (tender, hopeful)

There are a number of verses in Scripture which speak of preparing—preparing food (Genesis 27:7), preparing sacrifices (Numbers 23:29), preparing a place (Exodus 23:20), making preparations for building (I Chronicles 28:2). Our Lord, He prepares the rain (Psalm 147:8) and prepares praise from the mouths of children (Matthew 21:16) He sends people before Him to prepare His way (Isaiah 40:3). He has prepared a kingdom for us from the foundation of the world (Matthew 25:34). And ultimately, beloved, Christ Himself has gone before us to prepare a place for us; He tells us: ‘And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to Myself, that where I am you may also be.’ We read in 1 Corinthians 2:9: ‘…No eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what He has prepared for those who love Him.’ And in II Corinthians 4:17: ‘For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.’ In Hebrews 11:16, we hear that He has prepared for His people of faith, a city. And we hear talk of this city again in Revelation 21:2: ‘And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.’

Perhaps this all sounds and feels a bit repetitive, beloved? (gentle, slightly playful) But here is what I hope we will remember: Preparation must always precede the ‘main event,’ yes? Growing, dicing, cooking the food must precede the feast. Raising and nurturing the animal must precede the sacrificing of it. Gathering and creating the materials for building must precede the formation of a structure. Dreaming up the gift and then taking whatever steps necessary to be able to present it humbly, excitedly to one’s beloved precedes the actual giving of that good gift.

This is a time of preparation, beloved—our days here. (gentle) And many things are being prepared, I trust. He is preparing us as individuals—molding and shaping us more and more into His image, I pray, with every ‘prickle,’ every conviction of sin, tiny act of obedience we can muster. He is preparing us for one another, I believe with all my heart—making sure that our Union will be absolutely perfect, that our coming Together will be even more magnificent than we can imagine. And He is preparing to take us into His Love, to dwell with Him forever, in the Place of Shalom.

Like little children who want their supper now, who don’t want to wait until their mother, their Father, has finished preparing it, we too are impatient and wonder when it will be time to ‘eat.’ The time of preparation seems to lag on indefinitely, so hungry and used to being waited on are we. (gentle) But O, beloved—that which is being prepared for us, on our behalf—it’s worth waiting for! O, is it worth waiting for! (giddy, in awe)

And so, we will learn to delight in being given the time and space to ponder, to prepare. Our time ‘apart,’ it’s only ever been for our good and glory, for the good and glory of our beloved. Our Beloved, He intends it to be this way. (tender) He intends to create and obtain and procure the very best for us in order that He might bestow the very best gifts upon us when He is finished. He greatly anticipates our looks of amazement and gratitude, when we, Together—upon receiving His gifts—will throw ourselves into His strong but gentle arms and find perfect tenderness, perfect intimacy, perfect Love There, the likes of which we never even knew existed. O, beloved—may it be so. May it be so. (weeping in joyful expectation)

The King of Love, My Shepherd Is

The King of Love my Shepherd is,
Whose goodness faileth never;
I nothing lack if I am His
And He is mine forever.

Where streams of living water flow
My randsomed soul He leadeth,
And where the verdant pastures grow,
With food celestial feedeth.

Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,
But yet in love He sought me,
And on His shoulder gently laid,
And Home, rejoicing, brought me.

In death’s dark vale I fear no ill
With Thee, dear Lord, beside me;
Thy rod and staff my comfort still,
Thy cross before to guide me.

Thou spread’st a table in my sight;
Thine unction grace bestoweth;
And O what transport of delight
From Thy pure chalice floweth.

And so through all the length of days
Thy goodness faileth never;
Good Shepherd, may I sing Thy praise
Within Thy house for ever.

—Henry Williams Baker

The Dross Purged

And I will bring the third part through the fire, and will refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tried: they shall call on My name, and I will hear them: I will say, ‘It is My people’: and they shall say, ‘The Lord is my God’.

—Zechariah 13:9

Grace transmutes us into precious metal, and then the fire and the furnace follow as a necessary consequence. Do we start at this? Would we sooner be accounted worthless, that we might enjoy repose, like the stones of the field? This would be to choose the viler part: like Esau, to take the pottage, and give up the covenant portion. No, Lord; we will gladly be cast into the furnace rather than be cast out from Thy presence!

The fire only refines, it does not destroy. We are to be brought through the fire, not left in it. The Lord values His people as silver, and therefore He is at pains to purge away their dross. If we are wise, we shall rather welcome the refining process than decline it. Our prayer will be that our alloy may be taken from us rather than that we should be withdrawn from the crucible.

O Lord, Thou triest us indeed! We are ready to melt under the fierceness of the flame. Still, this is Thy way, and Thy way is the best. Sustain us under the trial and complete the process of our purifying, and we will be Thine forever and ever.

—Charles Spurgeon, ‘Faith’s Checkbook,’ p. 20

—-

O, my precious one. (gentle)

He draws us tenderly toward the flames, and as we feel the heat, our natural inclination is to buck against Him and run. We are afraid of being burned, of being destroyed. But O no, my sweet one—no. (extra gentle) The jealousy, the self-pity, the doubt, the despair, the sin, beloved—that is what He longs to ‘burn away.’ No harm shall come to us, my beautiful child—not even in the midst of the flames. (extra tender, reassuring)

Come, beloved! let us, then, go with Him into the furnace willing, yes? (gentle) Let us not settle for lesser things when He is offering us Himself—finally, fully—perfect communion, perfect intimacy, perfect rest, perfect Love! We choose Him, Together, do we not? (gentle) We know, deep down, that His way is the best way. We seek to honor Him above all.

And too, He refines us so that we may be more like Him, beloved. (earnest) So that we can know more of Him. He’s only trying to show us the way—the way from suffering to glory! O, beloved—what a gift, what a severe mercy!

I know it’s hard, beloved. (gentle) I know. (desperate to soothe) But we are not alone. Our Good Shepherd, He guides us. He leads and speaks, He knows just what we need; He carries us tenderly in His arms. He promises to finish the good work He began in us. O, what Love! (amazed) Let us trust that not a hair on our heads will be singed as we pass Together through this crucible, my beautiful one. May it be so—for His good and glory, and for ours as well. (fervent)

Amen.

Fairest Lord Jesus

Fairest Lord Jesus, 
ruler of all nature, 
O, Thou of God and man the Son, 
Thee will I cherish, 
Thee will I honor, 
Thou, my soul's glory, joy, and crown.

Fair are the meadows, 
fairer still the woodlands, 
robed in the blooming garb of spring:  
Jesus is fairer, 
Jesus is purer 
who makes the woeful heart to sing.

Fair is the sunshine, 
fairer still the moonlight, 
and all the twinkling starry host:  
Jesus shines brighter, 
Jesus shines purer 
than all the angels heaven can boast.

Beautiful Savior!  
Lord of all the nations!  
Son of God and Son of Man!  
Glory and honor, 
praise, adoration, 
now and forevermore be Thine.

—Münster Gesangbuch (1677)

Wounded: A Prayer

For He wounds, but He binds up;
He shatters, but His hands heal.

—Job 5:18

He heals the brokenhearted
and binds up their wounds.

—Psalm 147:3

For I will restore health to you,
and your wounds I will heal,
declares the Lord,
because they have called you an outcast:
‘It is Zion, for whom no one cares!’

—Jeremiah 30:17

—-

He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By His wounds you have been healed. For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.

—I Peter 2:24-25

—-

O, beloved. (extra gentle, fervently pressing in) I cherish you. (strong) I think you’re entirely lovely, and there’s nothing you can say or do or…think or feel that will convince me otherwise. (firm but gentle) Your vision is blurry just now, because of these tears, my love, but what you’re lamenting over has already been purged and removed as far away from you as the East is from the West by our good and gracious Savior, Jesus Christ. He’s already finished His work here on earth, and He now sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty…waiting, patiently to receive His bride. He…has…caught us up in His arms, beloved, He’s removed all the thorns we got stuck deep inside our flesh as we wandered…and now…He’s begun the restoration process of healing…but the wounds aren’t fully healed yet. They’re still painful, and we still bump up against things and feel the sharp pains again, just like when the thorns were inside us. These things you mention…they…frighten you, they frustrate you and cause you fear…but they are not you, beloved. (extra tender) They have already been conquered by Him. He’s making them more and more prevalent in your consciousness—in your spirit—so that your love for Him might only become that much more fervent, exuberant, adoring, yes? (tender) You. Are. Loved. (strong)

————————————————-

O, Lord—I’m wounded. (weeping before Him)

I hurt all the time.

I know such pain. I feel lost and confused and disoriented. I stumble around aimlessly, hoping you will come and rescue me.

I’m not whole; I’m broken. I’m not full; I’m empty.

My wounds, Lord, they gape and ooze, and I fear the yuck from inside will contaminate all who dare come near me. (aching)

The thorns that caused these wounds…I guess You have already removed, is that right? (timid, hesitant) Thank you for doing so for me, Lord. I…know I don’t seem thankful much of the time, but I am…am trying to be, want to be thankful.

Thank you for wiping my tears away like my beloved does. Thank you for showing me Your goodness in him. Thank you for being tender like him too, and strong but gentle.

You were wounded too, yes, Beloved? (gentle) You know what it feels like? How much it all hurts here? And Your wounds have—somehow, miraculously—healed me? (perplexed, amazed, in awe, reverent, pondering, still not really understanding very well)

O, Lord—I am nothing apart from you. I would…walk myself off a cliff or into a lion’s den or something equally hazardous if not for Your constant care. I am such a dimwitted sheep with no hope apart from You, my Good Shepherd.

O, God—please be my help. Please don’t give up on me or run away from me. Please hold me tightly, tenderly—and don’t let me go. Please bind up my wounds; help them to heal—help me to heal. I…I…ache. I ache all the time.

I wish I felt better now, more hopeful…but the truth is I’m still hurting just as much now as I did before. I…despise myself. I am ashamed. I am tired of my own sin, my own heart. And I am helpless to make anything better on my own.

Please have mercy upon me, upon us, O, God? (desperate) Please fix all that is broken and make clean all that is dirty and shine light on all that is dark? Please teach us how to love like You do, with Your Love? (in utter pain)

I want You to come now. I want to see You and hear You and be in Your arms. I don’t want to wait, please? I want You to heal me in an instant, not have to give the healing process time to work. (pouting, ashamed)

O, Lord—do You see how prideful and impatient and ugly I am? I want to submit and surrender, but I can’t, I don’t…(sigh)…and my words…I want them to be elegant and trusting and hopeful, and instead they are…full of self-pity and shame and frustration. (grieving) Why You love me…I’ll never know…(weeping)…

I’m frustrated and fearful. I have no hope apart from You. I…(weeping)…everything fails me, even my words…

O, Lord—please find me and rescue me in Your great mercy and tenderness.

Amen.