The Wall

I wrote this a month or so ago, and didn't realize I never finished and posted it. I blame it on my wedding brain, which apparently is a real thing.

 
Across the field before me stands a wall, composed of rows of stones, a dozen stones high. I sense this is the way I need to go - but how will I do it? It's so much taller than I am.

Beside the wall he stands. His eyes are on me. "Come on! Let's get beyond the wall!"

I hesitate. I am not sure how I can.

"Come on!"he calls, his hand motioning. He doesn't understand how small I am.

I step forward, slowly.

He is sitting on top of the wall. Another familiar voice calls out to me, "Come. Come beyond." In response, he swings his legs to the other side and looks back at me.

I eye the wall, raise my brows, and step cautiously towards the wall. Step by step I slide closer until I stand two steps away. I look up.

The wall towers above me. I look up and up and up until my head cannot go back any farther. The wall is so tall it seems to curve back over me. It is impossible to climb it. The first layer of stone is three times as tall as I am at least.

"Climb it," he says.

Climb it? I can't even see him. All I see is this huge wall before me, above me, around me. I am surrounded by these giant walls.

"Come, dear." Suddenly he has slipped beside me. I shake my head, and the wall swallowing me has taken shape again before me-still taller than I can see.

He reaches for my hand and pulls me one step closer. "You must cross the wall."

Tears fill my eyes and streak my face. "I know," I murmur. "But..." I lift blurry gaze to towering wall. "I don't know how."

"Just do it," he says, pulling my hand. "Come."

I know I can't. The wall is too high. The first stone on the wall is too high. It's too smooth. There's not even a place to put my foot.

"Step up, dear. Come."

I look into his face and step forward. The stone is hard, cold, impossible.

But I obey, I put my foot towards it, only to show him it cannot be done. And it stays. My eyes widen, and I excitedly take another step and grab onto the stone with my hands.

Maybe I can do this after all.

 I look up. I can see nothing but rock stretching above me. No. There's no way I can do it that far.

Then, at the top, I see legs dangling and a smile. "Come on, dear. You got this."

Maybe, just maybe, I can.

I am Lot

I have lived the life of Lot.

I have moved on in the name of peace, giving up that which would have led me closer to God in order to avoid conflict.

I have chosen the valley that appeared most fruitful for my family, never realizing I was greedy and liked the excitement of being near sin.

I have sought to protect what is good and holy, and done it by sacrificing my daughters to the appetite of wicked men.

I have sought to witness to those around me, and when time for movement has come, they think I am joking and not five will follow.

I have been grieved by the wickedness around me, and I have done nothing about it.

I have tried to get the world to see the light, and I have left my family in the dark.

I have left the state of evil I was in, but only because I was dragged out.

I am Lot's wife. I have acted in submission, but my heart was back in sin. 

I have lived the life of Solomon.

I have been blessed for my desire to serve God's people, and I have used those blessings for my own devices.

I have been given so many things, and I have allowed them to turn my heart away from God.

I have sought love, and I have allowed that desire to put idols in my life.

I have known God's Word, and I have made alliances with His enemies.

I have loved the Lord and followed Him, and I have continued serving idols.


Does this seem wicked? It is, more than I can understand. Does this seem extreme? Examine your own heart, and see if these things are not so.

I long to live the life of Abraham, God's friend.

I have loved where I am, but I want to leave when God calls.

I have been unable to imagine how a miracle can be done in me, but I want to believe God anyway.

I have heard of my family being taken captive, and I want to go after them.

I have to face an incredible army. Will I have men who know God is with me who are willing to follow me even to death?

I have won a battle, but have I refused the spoil to give only God the glory?

I have trusted God to give me an heir, but I want to trust Him as I obey His command to kill it.

I long to live the life of David, a man after God's own heart. 

I have been offended by the insults of the wicked against God. Now am I going to fight?

I have been promised blessing by God. Will I wait on His timing to receive it?

I have been oppressed by my authority. Will I still honor and obey?

I have let my eyes linger and lust, and acted on it. Will I humble myself when I am confronted by my sin?

I have caused the death of my son. Will I mourn my sin before the Lord?

I have trusted in the number of my armies. Will I throw myself upon the mercies of my God?

I have gotten cold and weary. Will I establish a godly heir?

I long for all these things, but I fail.

And yet, I have lived the life of Lot.. My sins have not been punished as they deserve. So often I have escaped the snare which I have set for myself. Although I was prone to linger, God always sends His angels to take me by the hand and force me to move.

In the end, I am righteous.

But I want the legacy of Abraham, not of Lot. Of David, not of Solomon.

Now if anyone builds on this foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw, each one’s work will become clear; for the Day will declare it, because it will be revealed by fire; and the fire will test each one’s work, of what sort it is. If anyone’s work which he has built on it endures, he will receive a reward. If anyone’s work is burned, he will suffer loss; but he himself will be saved, yet so as through fire.

                                         - 1 Corinthians 3:12-15

You, Mark

Do you ever feel like Mark?

Around you are amazing men, doing great things, and all you want to do is join them. You want to be known, maybe not as Paul, but at least as Paul's companion. As one who walks with Bartholomew, the encourager.

You don't expect to be great. But you want to help those who are.

But when you join their journey -- suddenly you're overwhelmed. The road is rougher than you thought. You miss your family back in your hometown. You've been mocked and tried more than you ever have been before. You're footsore, heartweary, and headnumb.

All you wanted to do was help. Maybe you wanted a little fame, but you knew that was wrong and you tried to fight it. You really wanted to give Paul a hand.

But now - you're tired, and you aren't helping. You feel like you must be a burden.

So you turn back. At least you won't make everyone else, those who are faithfully serving, enduring through hardship, bear your sin in addition to everything else.

They can probably do better without you.

And then comes Bartholomew, Bartholomew the encourager. "Come with me," he says. "I can use you."

And you resist. How can you be of use to anyone? You couldn't endure when the road was hard. Your comfort was too important to you. You let everyone down. Even if you had continued, you still would have, one way or another.

But Bartholomew insists. He believes in you. So, you don your cloak and pick up your walking stick and step out to try again.

And then, Paul says no.

You failed them. Why should they take you along? Why won't you fail them again? With work to be done and souls to save, who has time to care for an immature, unreliable kid?

And you cannot argue. You agree with Paul. Why would they want your help?

But Bartholomew says no. He wants you. He says you must stay. And when Paul disagrees, they split.

There you go again, causing strife and headaches and distracting from the important work.

You follow on with Bartholomew, resolved to do your best, but with sorrowful guilt nagging at your heart. You can only beg God to keep you from stumbling this time.

And God works through you, and the weariness of the journey does not defeat you, though you have never been so tried. And still, the guilt lies in the back of your mind, dormant in the corners of your heart.

But your story isn't over.

"Get Mark and bring him with you," Paul says, "for he is useful to me for ministry."

In passing he mentions it, as if it means nothing, as if hearing it your eyes do not fill with tears. As if a hesitant smile isn't forming in your soul.

Useful. Useful to Paul. Useful for ministry.

You. You who failed. You who turned back when the road was rocky. You who sought comfort over compassion. Now, your failures are forgiven and forgotten. You're given another chance.

Not only that, but you're useful. You run the words over and over in your mind. You're useful to the Apostle. You're useful to your Lord. Useful for ministry.

God specializes in using failed vessels. Humbled, you go to Paul, ready to serve.

Opposite A Mystery

I have come to think that to believe Christianity is often to believe two opposite things, and yet find them compatible.

Just think of the essential Christian doctrines.

God is man.
A virgin is with child.
The eternal God dies.
The dead live.
God hates sin, yet He loves man.
He is sovereign, yet He allows evil.
No one is good, yet we are holy.

God is forever turning our ideas of how things are upside down. Even when we think we understand something, we have only grasped the outer edges of His ways.

I once saw a pamphlet with an illustration that stuck with me. Imagine a paper on which is drawn a smiley face in profile - one eye over half a smile in a circle. You tell the little guy to look up. He turns counter-clockwise. "No," you say. "The other way." So he turns clockwise. "No!" you cry. "Look up!"

But his two-dimensional mind cannot understand a third dimension.

So you take a ball, and you push it through his paper world. "Do you see the ball?" you ask.

"You mean that circle that gets bigger and then smaller?" he asks. "I've heard of balls. I don't know if I believe they exist." Looking right at the ball, he sees only a cross-section, and he doesn't really understand how a whole 3D ball can exist.

This, I think, is how we are with God. Even if we believe that there is a ball, we cannot truly understand what one is really like. Our idea of a circle that is somehow continuous, bigger than just a circle, is close, but not like actually holding a ball in your hands. Now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then, face to face!

Now, don't misunderstand me. The Holy Spirit reveals things to us, and we can truly say that we know God. Nor are there contradictions with God. Opposites aren't really opposites with God.

I guess that's really my point. Things seem to be opposite, when they aren't, really.

This came to mind when considering the debate between what, for sake of simplicity, I shall call Calvinism and Arminianism, between election and free will. In case anyone is reading this seriously (I mean, I guess if you're reading this, you're probably doing it seriously, otherwise you're probably bored and already stopped, in which case, you aren't reading this and it doesn't apply to you-although you may be reading it seriously and thus are still reading it and therefore are bored-so maybe I should say in case anyone reads this), this is not a theological thesis, and I haven't studied Scripture in depth on this. I'm actually kind of thinking out loud. So don't worry too much if you think I'm wrong. But don't be afraid to tell me, either.

First, what I do know is what Scripture says: God is sovereign. We are dead in our sins. Dead normally means that the one who is dead can do absolutely nothing. God makes us alive, and He has chosen us from before the foundations of the earth. While we were still sinners in rebellion, God loved us.

It is also true that God gives us commands. That we are called to repent, believe, take up our cross, and follow Him. That when the people ask Peter, "What must we do to be saved?" he does not say, "Nothing. God does all the work."

I've listened to a lot of Calvinist thought, and I can't think of much in particular that I've heard that I disagree with. I've also listened to people on the other side of the election debate, and most of them (as long as they agree with God's sovereignty and other Biblical principles) also seem right. What I have wanted to disagree with usually is when one says the other is wrong.

Again, an illustration helps me.

God is called the author of our salvation. Think of life as a story, God as the author, and us as characters. Being a writer myself, I can relate. The author has complete authority over the story. What he decides goes. The characters have no say.

But if you create good characters, a story will almost write itself. Sometimes, I as the author do not want something to happen, but the characters do it anyway.

For example, I was writing a story in which my sister told me the main character, Nell, should marry the main guy in the story, Daniel. I told her no. I had no intention of writing such a story. I fought it, but as the story progressed, it became clear. Daniel liked Nell, and there was nothing I could do about it. That is simply what he would do. He insisted on it. I repeatedly told him not to, but he would regardless. Although I could have, to have refused to let him would have made him a stilted character in a forced world.

This idea and personal experience with the author being completely in control, and yet the characters still making decisions in accord with their desires, helped me to understand how it could be that God is sovereign, and yet we are held responsible for our actions.

This is no theological thesis, as mentioned before, but in regards to the election/free will debate, I have come to think that they are both more true than even those who believe them think they are, and that they're a mystery that we cannot really comprehend. Like every other thought we have about God, our ideas and visions are too small. They're a two-dimensional man trying to look up.

What I'm trying to say is that while God's role is far more determining and our utter depravity is far worse than the staunchest Calvinist ever imagined, we are also more culpable and responsible for our actions than any Arminian ever thought.

With God being who He is, it doesn't really make sense to me to be any other way. He's a mystery, complex beyond what we understand. And so there is going to be debate and misunderstanding and blurred sight, as there always is when you come opposite such a mystery.

Perhaps I should study and make a more informed decision-of course, we all should. There is always more to learn. But I am okay with holding these seemingly opposing views in my mind. Because, I think, Christianity means learning to embrace and delight in mystery until all is revealed.

Important Work

Before you rests a pile of dark, heavy dirt. You sigh, looking from it to the shovel with a split wooden handle grasped in your hand. You know your task.

Slowly, you jab your shovel into the dirt. When you remove it, you deposit the part that doesn't fall off into a new pile. Complaining of the crack pinching your palm, you press on, knowing your duty.

You know you need to move this dirt. But you don't know why. So you toil on.

But then Joe bounds towards you. "Hurry up!" he cries, jabbing his thin trowel into the pile. "Come on!" In a few moments, with his small tool he has doubled the pile you've been toiling over.

Raising your eyebrows, you press your shovel into the dirt. "What's the hurry?" you ask.

"What's the hurry?!" Joe cries, without turning from his work. "Don't you know he'll suffocate if we don't get him out?"

Suddenly, you don't notice the pinching on your palms, the weight of the dirt, the sweat marking trails down your neck.

Your only focus is to get him out. To save his life.

Now, the obstacles don't matter. You only wish you had known before the importance of the task, that you might have done better. Why hadn't someone told you? Why hadn't you realized, so that you would have known to work diligently?

I think this is often how we approach all of life. There is gravity and purpose for our lives -- but we live as if we know we need to live but don't know why. We grow weary living, we act lackadaisical, we live without a plan:

We don't remember that there is a reason we are living.

But there is.

Ephesians 2:10: For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

Revelation 4:11: You are worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honor and power; for You created all things, and by Your will they exist and were created.

If we remembered this, could we live lives of such unintentionality? If we really believe that Christ gives  meaning to life, that God sees all that we do, why do we think it doesn't matter?

And if we know that what we do with our lives is important, why don't we act like it?

 Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may obtain it. ...Now they do it to obtain a perishable crown, but we for an imperishable crown. Therefore I run thus: not with uncertainty. Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air. But I discipline my body and bring it into subjection, lest, when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified.   I Corinthians 9:24-27

Perspective of Pain

Have you read The Hiding Place?

I know that many people say "every this type of person should do this" about many things, but I do believe that this is a book that every Christian should read. In fact, if the story of Corrie ten Boom and her family does not come readily and quickly to mind, you should read it again. If you're too lazy (and don't quickly say you're too busy-I bet you could spare at least ten minutes each day and finish it in a week or two), at least watch the movie.

My sister was listening to the Family Radio Theater production of it, and I started thinking. Honestly, I felt like crying as I pondered perspective.

Perspective. The word comes from Latin, literally meaning to see through.

Perspective is something that Betsy had.

Betsy, for those of you who had to put The Hiding Place next on your reading list, is Corrie's sister who was with her in the concentration camp. As I considered Corrie's anger and how Betsy corrected her sister, the weight of the difference between their lives and ours pressed deeply on me.

Are you struggling to forgive someone who has wronged you? Perhaps a sibling is mean to you intentionally. Perhaps someone you thought was your friend lied to you. Maybe it was even something as terrible as your parents divorcing.

Imagine someone betraying you, for money, causing your family to be torn apart, your innocent, beloved father and sister to die, and you to lose your family, your friends, and your freedom.

Then, imagine forgiving him. Praying that the Lord will bless him and his family. Having sympathy for his pain.

Makes you feel pretty selfish for remembering when that kid was mean to you at youth group years ago, doesn't it?

Are you struggling with loneliness? Perhaps you lost someone you loved. Perhaps you look with longing at your friends who are married. Perhaps you haven't been able to spend time with people as much as you wish. Perhaps no one understands what you're going through.

Imagine leaving your home--not for a new one, but for a concentration camp, leaving behind everyone you care for, many of whom are in serious danger, knowing that some of them have died, that many you will never see again--and all of this in the discomfort of a barren place.

Imagine your pain made harder by knowing your husband is enduring the same thing on the other side of the fence, while you are unable to comfort or even be with him, and that each time you see him, it is likely that it may be the last time.

Imagine hearing shots nearby, not knowing if it is someone you love that was killed.

Makes you appreciate your comfort more, doesn't it?

Are you struggling with physical pain? Are you tired? Is your work hard?

Imagine being weak with lack of food, beaten, with no physical comforts, medicine, or doctors--and yet getting no sympathy, but being continually forced to more difficult manual labor than you have probably ever experienced?

Make your weariness easier to bear?

I could go on. My point in this is not at all to diminish what you are enduring. Who knows the things of a man except the spirit of the man? God remembers that we are but dust. A bruised reed He will not break. "No one knows the trouble I've seen," is true, aside from God. One thing that I think our culture, perhaps, gets wrong is thinking that because x goes to a greater degree than y, y doesn't have any significance. Just because someone does something better or endures more than you doesn't invalidate your experience. But that is a topic for another post.

What is my point, then? Maybe it's for I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed.

Then again, maybe I am diminishing what you're enduring.

"Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace."

That's perspective.

It's amazing how Christianity makes everything matter-and nothing. Nothing earthly. And yet, suddenly everything does matter. Are the barracks full of fleas? That doesn't matter. And yet, they matter immensely--for how we respond to them has eternal, profound significance.

And that was why I felt like crying myself as I heard Corrie weep as she prayed for the man who by our perspective destroyed her family and begged God to forgive her for harboring bitterness against him. Because my perspective, our perspective, is so much shallower than that.

Betsy showed Corrie that if she loved God, not only did she have to accept her father's death, but being betrayed--and having fleas. Things difficult and enormous, and things relatively small and just annoying. She saw through the appearances of this physical world to what truly mattered behind it.

O what joy we would have if we could have this heavenly perspective continually in our lives!

Acting

It's like death,
this watching a muted movie,
this asking why
and what the actors are saying.
This repeating
over and over and over
as if you are praying,
the Author has a plot
this pain is not for naught.
This hoping
and knowing
and trusting
that the climax is needed
for the conclusion,
and that when the credits roll
(with the author's name
listed after every part)
we'll know then
the meaning of the script.
This knowing the story is good
because He's a published author
with satisfying subplots
but still letting the tears fall
because it's death
becoming an actor
to a plot not your own.

The Hidden War

The world is a battlefield.

All around you, there's a war. The woman you passed, thinking she was a grump? She was just mortally wounded, and her blood quietly seeped out on the parking lot.

But you didn't see it. You just saw a woman scowling as she whipped grocery bags into her SUV. And when you said, "Well, that's a pleasant woman," you didn't know.

You didn't know her hope has died. That today she knew for sure that she could not believe in a God who would let her husband leave her, just like her father did. That the reason she glared at you was because she was demanding of God why.

Why do you look so happy, herding your little kids into your car?

Yes, they're disobedient children, and your voice sounded irritated and weary, and your van has scratches and that big dent you were so upset by. But you take your children home so your husband can discipline them, and she'd give away her shiny car for a little taste of the joy you have and take your weariness if she could get rid of her heartache.

Yes, in the world there's a war. But the war's not just outside.

Your daughter complains that she gained five pounds and her face is all broken out, and her friend isn't talking to her. You tell her everyone gets pimples, don't worry what other people think, and by the way, she needs to clean the bathroom.

You don't see the soldier aiming his machine gun at your daughter's heart; you suggest a stroll through the countryside, unaware of the snipers and the deep fear she cannot explain.

Then you wonder why she seems angry with you and how you have failed her.

The war's for you, too.

Yes, that person has just cancelled on you again, leaving you scrambling for a fill-in and wasting those two hours you meant to use to make a nice dinner for your family. Yes, she always does it.

But, though you imagine her shooting her poisoned arrows into your back as you wish, she isn't your enemy.

The enemy is deeper. He's put his weapon inside you. The poison that is killing you isn't from her arrows.

It's sin.

It's a powerful force, an unrelenting enemy.

You live in your little village in the mountains, far away from the booming cannons and explosions of war. But you are not safe. Your enemy has signed the contract for military law, but the enemy is a thief and a liar, and he will not obey them.

The neutral party is not safe. In fact, the neutral party is not neutral.

If you remain unaware of the war, living in your little out-of-the-way village, the marauders will come though, burn your helpless home, and shoot you through your unprepared heart.

You cannot afford to not prepare. The enemy is a burglar, searching the lonely places where there are quiet people whose inoffensive nicety keeps them from building fences and oiling guns, where the enemy can knock on the door with his gun slung over his shoulder and be welcomed in as if he were the owner of the house.

But really, the enemy has already infiltrated. He is the owner of the house. You cannot resist his thieving rule unless you join the defeating Army that is coming.

But even if you do, you'll lose battle after battle if you don't see the war.

Be on the alert.

Rejoicing in Blessings

Holidays, especially Thanksgiving, are wonderful times for considering where you are in your life. And convenient excuses to write blog posts! So this Thanksgiving I am doing both.

One thought has really impressed me: I am blessed.

I would fall into the cliche, "I don't know about you, but I am blessed," except I do know. You are blessed as well.

While writing, I said once that I must be content with God's love. Then I had to laugh. Content with God's love? As if someone dying of thirst must be content with oceans of water! Here we sit on the beach of a fresh-water Atlantic, picking at the grains of sand and considering attempting to quench our thirst from this muddy puddle beside us, totally unaware of the OCEAN at our feet!

What has this to do with thanksgiving?

If you realize what God has done for you, how can you not only not be displeased, and not only be satisfied, but further REJOICE in where He has you? And not only what He has done, but what He plans to do.

I have been struggling to wrap my prideful mind around such amazing promises:

"Because you have made the LORD, who is my refuge,
Even the Most High, your dwelling place,
No evil shall befall you,
Nor any plague come near your dwelling...
Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him;
I will set him on high, because he has known My name."
                - Psalm 91:9-10, 14

"I am the LORD your God,
Who brought you out of the land of Egypt;
Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it."
                - Psalm 81:10

"If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him!"
                 -Matthew 7:11

These are only a few verses this idea has struck me in. (I recommend reading all of Psalm 91. And there's a link for those too lazy to look it up, so you have no excuse not to!)

Let me explain what I mean by prideful. Ought we not to accept all that the Lord tells us? And yet, seeing our sin, we do not accept His love. How can He do this, when we are so unworthy? Of course, as good Christians, we would never say this. (I wonder how many times that sentence has been written...) But we believe it.

I could say that I am speaking for myself here, and I don't know about you. But I think that is overused. Yes, I am speaking for myself, and yes, not everyone has the same thoughts. But "no temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man," and pride and resisting God's Word is a struggle we all encounter.

Now what does this have to do with being thankful?

It is good to see our sin and unworthiness. This realization is something that is essential for thankfulness. If you think that you deserve what God gives you, why should you be grateful? But if you do not deserve any good, how can you not be grateful for everything? 

(Because you're sinful and prideful...but you get my point. That's another phrase that I wonder how often it's been used.) 

And if your sin does not grieve your heart, pray that the Lord would open your eyes to it. He is faithful to answer. "You do not have, because you do not ask." The Lord did this for me. It is hard and not fun, and you may be surprised by the trials that come, but it will give you joy.

Realizing our sin does give us thankfulness. See on the one side your sin, and on the other God's blessings to you and His desire to bless you, and your thankfulness will be great. It puts everything into perspective.

God has been teaching me to rejoice in my own life. He knows each person, and He works in each life differently. Sometimes this is hard, because we cannot read hearts as God can. Thus, the grass is always greener on the other side. We see others' blessings that we do not have, and we are envious, forgetting their trials and the blessings we have that they do not.

And if we do see our blessings, we forget that's what they are and are prideful.

Recently after I had shared some things that God had been teaching me, a lady told me that she appreciated it. "You should be a teacher," she said. "Kids need to hear what you have to say."

It made me think of a time when Abraham had been brought up, and a girl asked if he was the one who had to sacrifice his son. It boggled my mind that a Christian could not know that story. Since then, I have been aware of how much I have been given. Indeed, what do I have that I have not been given? What separates me from a young believer who knows little more than Jesus and Noah's Ark?

Just this: where God has chosen to place me. 

I have not been more faithful, nor do I have a better memory or understanding. I have simply been situated in places where knowing God's Word was expected, and so I reaped the benefits.

At one of these places, the teacher asked, "What is your geneology?" He asked us to consider our spiritual genealogies. Who prayed for you? Who taught you? And don't stop there. Who prayed for them? Who mentored them?

What an incredible thought. You begin to see yourself as a small mechanism in a huge, interconnecting plan. I think of things such as the debt I owe to a lady I never knew who many years ago did a Kid's Club that was instrumental in bringing God's word to a woman who has been an inestimable blessing to my mother, and to me. Of people, some of whom I may have never met, whose influence led people to come to my church and thus became a blessing to me. Of the great men and women throughout history who wrote down so powerfully what God taught them so that lives were transformed to become my examples.

You have your own blessings. That Christ died is blessing enough. But God has freely with Him given us all things!

On second thought, there is another thing that separates me from some believers. I love God's Word and I long for holiness. My struggle to overcome sin grieves me. This is one of the greatest blessings God can give.

I knew that Scripture says that work in the heart is from God, but I didn't quite understand how that could be. I mean, it's my heart, my desires and thoughts. Yes, God has to bring to life someone dead in sin, but the sanctifying work seems like it must be ours. Once again, as a good Christian, I knew such thinking was wrong and never would have thought I believed it.

Remember how I mentioned that God had opened my eyes to my sin? One year, I realized my walk with God wasn't very good. I wanted it to be better-sort of. I tried and tried to be good, but I couldn't. Really, I wanted to want it. I read in the Psalms how David thirsted after God's Word, how he hated his sin and God's enemies, how he delighted in righteousness. "Lord," I said, "I want a love for You like that. I don't even want Your Word. I don't even hate my sin." And I realized I couldn't work it up and asked Him to give it to me.

About a year later I was struggling and frustrated. Why, I wondered, could I not defeat sin? Why were things difficult? A friend encouraged me at that time, not really knowing what I was thinking, saying how she rejoiced seeing God's work in my life, in my love for Him and His people. Suddenly I realized: this frustration with sin-that was because I hated it. It wasn't because I was any more sinful than I used to be, but that I could now see my sin as the offense it was against God.

I had tried and tried to become more holy, and I had failed. Yet suddenly I realized I had changed-without doing anything. What glory! I rejoiced in verses like, "He who began a good work in you is faithful to complete it," and "He has given you all things needed for life and godliness through the knowledge of Him." I could see how it was completely God's work, changing my heart. I really had done nothing. God had just given me a receptive heart.

Don't diminish God's glory by not acknowledging what He has given you. It is the humble person who is thankful, because they realize that no matter how "good" in the eyes of others they may be, every good gift comes from God. Do not fail to rejoice in His promises of blessing to you. If we trust His character, we must believe them. It is precisely because we are unworthy that we can be so grateful.

I do speak to myself, and as usual, write for my own benefit. But I do pray that as you read how I have been impressed by God's mercy, it will also cause you to rejoice in thankfulness.

Trusting the Father

This would be good, Father,
Isn't it clear?
It's a good way to
Draw You and me near.
That is the goal, Father,
Do You not know?
I see no better way
We can do so.
Here's a good work, Father,
That I should do.
Don't You want me to
Do service for You?
It's a command, Father,
You Yourself gave-
I am just trying
To follow Your ways.
What do You mean, Father,
That I must submit?
Why else would I
Want to do it?
To honor You, Father,
Has been my aim.
To make all my goals
And Yours the same.
Submit to You, Father,
In all that You say?
Though it may seem
To pull You away?
What do You mean, Father?
This will not do!
I thought that the goal
Was drawing to You.
Just trust in You, Father?
Submit to Your ways?
Lean not on my wisdom,
But simply obey?
But this is hard, Father!
I'll do what you ask,
But I want to know why
Before doing my task.
Never mind why, Father?
Just obey Your Word?
Worry for nothing,
Just do what I've heard?
This seems foolish, Father,
Yet I will obey.
You are omniscient
So what can I say?
I trusted You, Father,
Many times before
And You've always shown
You're worthy of more.
I'll follow You, Father
And in Your will rest.
Though I don't understand,
You work for my best.
So show Yourself, Father,
Once again true.
Though it goes against wisdom,
 My trust is in You.

~ Jeannette Beerbower, April 4, 2013

Faithful in Past and Future

Today is the last day of 2012. That's a crazy thought.

Where were you twelve months ago? Isn't that an interesting thought to ponder? And I don't mean physically only, of course. Emotionally, spiritually, in your relationships, in your thoughts...where were you?

It's amazing how quickly we forget. Things that I thought at the time I'd never forget are now like a dream in the morning-as it hovers in the back of your mind, you can almost recall it, but not quite.

The past year has been full, it seems, with lots of change. I suppose that's always true, and perhaps every year it seems more true than before-again, how quickly we forget. I wonder how many times I have remarked, "That seems like a really long time ago," about something that happened this year. Things as close as September seem long ago. Hey, things as close as the beginning of this month...

Which makes written records fun and interesting.

Perhaps a few of you have read my blog and realized I am quoting myself. The first line actually originally read "Today is the last day of 2011."

Quoting yourself, or hearing others quote you, is an odd experience. It has happened a few times to me this year. It's quite interesting and rather strange.

But that has nothing to do with this post.

Like I said last year, it's remarkable how quickly we forget. I could write the exact same thing I wrote last year and it would be true. Which makes written records fun and interesting.

And challenging. I began this year, and other times throughout the year-indeed, last year as well-with so many good intentions. Yet I failed so much. It is disheartening, yet a happy thought to know that the only way I have changed or endured in any good thing has been the power of Christ overruling my natural tendency to revert to lazy indulgence, selfish self-love, forgetful ignorance.

This has been a year of growth, a year of many new experiences, both very good and very difficult, a year of new and deepening relationships. From simple growing up things like driving a few times, getting a bank account, taking the ACT; to Something to Smile About, to college, to the beginning of the answering of my prayers last year for a deeper love for the Lord, though I have begun to realize how unworthy I am, I have found the Lord faithful. I have been blessed in too many things to name in friendships, finances, schooling, family, possessions, wisdom, opportunities.

So many things I am beginning to understand that never quite made sense before. Things that adults say I begin to understand for myself.

I don't like it when people say generic things like that when you know they have something specific in mind, so I shall elaborate. That is one of the things I have come to understand better: having things that you don't really want to share all of the details. So often I wish people would just say it, because I am curious-I am a Beerbower after all, and I want to know. But having been on the other side, I understand better. Sometimes you want to say it, but it really is wiser not to.

Which relates to another thing I've begun understand. I see myself doing the same things that annoyed me in adults, things that confused me, like why someone would bother to swim for just a few minutes, or prefer watching the running around to joining in, not wanting to even get up from his seat. Things like not having enough time to write an email, even though few people take as long as I do, disliking the snow, or wanting to drive in it, or finding preparing for something a big deal. Many things, like church functions or having people over or taking pictures or getting presents, take a lot more work than you realize until you really see the behind the scenes and consider them.

I have found myself questioning. Questioning what I believe, and why. Questioning what I do, and why I do it. It has been a good experience, for questions are the way you learn. I have been challenged to believe things, not because that is what those around me have believed, or because I have reasoned it out, but because the Word of God says it.

It has been especially sweet this year to see the answering of prayers. As I struggled with certain things, I felt discouraged, and then I realized: God was answering my prayers.

I struggled with frustration over my sinfulness. Suddenly, I remembered last year, asking for a greater desire for holiness, a stronger hatred for sin, and a deeper love for the Lord. He was honoring those prayers!

I struggled with difficulties in friendships and drama, which was difficult because I could not remember having done that before. Yet God uses perseverance through difficulties to give us wisdom, something I have asked the Lord for many times.

I had struggled with my grandfather's death, and, though loss surprises us even after we thought it has gone so that I will probably have to deal with it again, He brought resolution and peace to my mind.

Last year I asked God to bless me with a mentor. This year, I have benefited from the wisdom and friendship of many older girls-and even some younger than I, yet whose fellowship and example have encouraged and challenged me. The blessing of God's people is amazing.

Considering the year ahead, I am excited to see how God will work.  He has given me the desire for wisdom and holiness, for joy and satisfaction, to be useful and encouraging, to bring Him glory, and though I cannot obtain those things on my own, He promises that those who ask receive, and those who seek find. Though I know that my idea of how it will go may be very different than what actually happens, and that many times I will fail in the visions I now have for the walk ahead of me, I smile at the future, knowing that God is faithful.

Thoughts of Faith and Thanks

Last Thursday I spent four hours in between classes at the University of Toledo with the college group, standing for the unborn. We had big signs with pictures of abortions and fliers for Created Equal, the organization we work with. We claimed a cross section of Centennial Mall's sidewalks and tried to engage the passersby, challenging their thoughts about abortion.

It is no coincidence that I am posting this on Thanksgiving. I came away from that event with a sense of gratefulness.

Though I have heard a number of presentations on abortion, this was the first time I had done this. As with many things, I wasn't nervous until I got there and I realized what it would be like.

We didn't get into a conversation for a while, but when we did, I forgot to be nervous at all. I didn't have a large number of conversations, but I had a few that were quite long. The first guy was a legal sort of guy. He argued that we shouldn't worry about abortion until we can take care of the kids, and didn't think the legislation could be changed. Another guy said that it wasn't murder to kill someone if they didn't have brain waves, and that they could measure them.

Those type of intellectual people I find harder to relate to and have any sympathy for than people like the girl who didn't really like abortion, but having many friends in the foster care system, she didn't want more children to grow up without a loving home. Thinking of the kids I know who could be in such a situation, I sympathized with her. "It is hard,"  I agreed, "yet who are we to use the quality of life a child will have as an excuse to kill? A child who is dearly wanted may, after some misfortune, end up in child services, and a child who is not may have a wonderful life in an adoptive family. We don't know." She said she would think about it.

The most interesting conversation I had was with a guy who at said first that we were 19th century and needed to progress. But as I talked with him, he genuinely seemed to want to understand. He didn't like abortion himself, he said, but he thought that everyone should make their own decision. I asked him about killing other people, and he asked me what I thought about killing animals. I asked him what he thought of God. He said that he thought God was in everything. I told him what I believed (which meant that I thought animals should be treated well, but that humans have much more worth) and told him that, while I was glad he thought murder was wrong, in his worldview, it didn't make sense for him to do so. If we evolved, who's to say that killing someone is wrong? He said a couple times, "You seem to be making sense. I don't know. Maybe you are right." He also said he would think about it.

The last conversation I had was with a girl who said abortion wasn't wrong in the first trimester. She pointed to the picture of the baby at 13 weeks old, and agreed that it was definitely a baby and killing it would be wrong. But she thought that until later, when they have arms and legs they are not a baby. She pointed to the picture of a sperm and egg. "That's not a baby." She said she was a Christian, she goes to church, and she was emphatic that the Bible was the Word of God, completely true.

So I referred to Psalm 139, how God knows us before we are formed in the womb, and how in Leviticus it treats causing a pregnant woman to lose her baby as murder. She said that God knows that they were going to have an abortion and He forgives us. I agreed that God forgives us so much, so generously, but if we accept that Jesus died to forgive our sins, how can we knowingly sin? If He must forgive us, that means that it was wrong, and He calls us to holiness. If we love Him, we must not sin.

She had to go to class, but she said I was interesting to talk to and she would consider what I had said.

What I was left to consider as it ended were mainly two things.

First, the impression I had was sorrow. Sorrow over the complacency. The people who didn't want to talk, and said they had never considered abortion. "Have you thought much about abortion?" we would ask. "No," would often be followed by, "I've never been in that situation." Sorrow over the angry reactions. After an older lady was asked what she thought of abortion, she said, "I don't have an opinion, but-" and her voice rose high and angrily and she got into our faces- "I don't think people should PUSH their views on others!!" It was sort of shocking; we felt that an older lady should agree with us. "I wondered if she had grandkids," my friend asked. "I feel like anyone with grandkids should be against abortion."

That feeling of sadness influenced that other feeling that still comes when I consider that day. The feeling of gratitude.

Time and time again, at some point in every conversation, I felt I could say no more than, "I believe that God created the world, and made humans in His image, which means that murder is wrong. The Bible says it, so it's true." And I sometimes did. But they don't believe Scripture is true, and frustratingly I realized I could not convince them. No evidence against abortion, no testifying of the inerrancy of Scripture will change their minds.

dead in your sins

That keeps returning to my mind. Dead in your sins. Suddenly I understood that phrase in a way I never had before. Of course I knew we were dead in our sins, we needed Jesus to make us alive. But now I could see: we are dead. We cannot believe. "Though one were to rise from the dead" we would still not believe.

"And you He made alive, who were dead in trespasses and sins... But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ" (Ephesians 2).

I knew that we were dead and had no desire to live. But being impressed with how we cannot accept the truth of the gospel; imagining others' thoughts and seeing the gospel's foolishness to the world; finding that much as I wanted to, I could not convince them of the truth because the prince of this world has darkened their eyes; the greatness of the gift and how it is such a gift became more clear. I have not relayed these things very eloquently, but the distinction between how I knew that before and how I realized its truth afterwards is something that, like faith, you cannot understand unless you have experienced it.

What do I have what these people do not? They are presented with the same information as I; why do I accept it and they do not? I can reason, but I cannot prove. My beliefs are based on the evidence of faith. Why do I have faith in what they reject? How can I accept what I do not completely understand? Why, when I, as I have lately, question whether almost everything I know is true and why, do I choose not to reject what I cannot prove?

It is the assurance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. The peace given by the Holy Spirit. Faith, which cannot be worked up. You cannot be reasoned into heaven. Faith is a gift. And I am humbled and thankful for it like never before, realizing it is unearned and not to be taken for granted.

Salvation is miracle upon miracle. Not only must God the Creator die for the sinful creation, but the dead creature must have his eyes opened to even believe that he has been saved. Such grace is beyond belief, and to know that He has revealed the truth of His Word to you compels the giving of thanks.

The Best Reason to Smile

You may not realize it, but today is an anniversary. You may not remember what you were doing at this time last year, but what I was doing is strongly in my mind. One year ago, just after 2:30, I was on my email. My friend Grace and I had been emailing back and forth our usual nonsense, joking about sending emails to the wrong person, especially Ryan. At the time, unbeknownst to him, I was sending her a Ryan quote of the day.

When I got on, I saw she had replied to my last email. She asked if Friday morning still worked for me to get together to do scrap booking. I wrote a reply, saying Friday worked for me, and suggested we check out the neighborhood (go for a walk, that is) to cover up our activities. We knew Ryan would ask what she had done, especially if he knew she met with me. Grace isn't normally a scrapbooker, and her scrapbook was to be a surprise for him.

As I was about to send it, I realized had somehow missed an email from Ryan. The subject line said, top secret! Intrigued, I clicked on it. "Even in your family, you can’t speak of this," it said. I caught a glimpse of a few words following: D & E, and your parents...be CERTAIN...

Mom appeared behind me. "Let me get on for a minute." As much as my curiosity was aroused, I quickly logged off, lest Mom see whatever it was she wasn't supposed to.

 I wandered the living room, waiting for Mom to get off. Then Eric.

I could only think of one thing, but I made excuses to myself. If he was going to, why would he tell me? I got on as soon as I could, and finished the email. Even with these suspicions, I didn't imagine how what I was about to read would affect me. 

So I’m proposing on Friday!  Might you be available Friday night to possibly help with my proposal?  I’m thinking hidden photographer from afar for you.

I didn't reply. I ran outside and yelled like when I call the chickens, only without words. Running to the neighbors, I swung hard, grinning the whole time.

If it had been possible, I would have stopped mid-swing. Friday? I was meeting with Grace Friday morning to scrapbook, and going to the park for the proposal Friday evening! Would it be hard to act normal?

It seemed like a long time I was out there, but it must have only been a few minutes. I replied to Ryan, my excitement uncontainable, and looked at the email I had been going to send Grace. Having them both sitting there was quite amusing. If I sent Grace's to Ryan and Ryan's to Grace, that would be amusing... Okay, it would be quite horrible, actually, but the thought of doing it was amusing. Smiling, I sent them both to the correct person.

Ryan had actually said I could maybe tell the older members of my family. I didn't, at first. I just enjoyed knowing what I knew as we worked outside that evening. That night when Deanna came home late from work, I was half-asleep. "Jeannette. Do you want to watch Little House on the Prairie?" I was tired, but I slipped out of bed and went downstairs with her.

As it started, I leaned back against the couch and said, "I didn't get up because I want to watch Little House with you." Finally, at the thought of telling someone, I couldn't suppress my smile, and she asked, "What?" It was so fun to tell her. "Ryan's proposing to Grace on Friday." (Excuse me. I probably said, "Ryan's proposing to Grace on Friday!!!")

"How do you know?" she asked. I told her and showed her Ryan's email. Tired as I was, it was worth getting up for.

My sisters told Grace later that I smiled whenever I heard her name-and being a word name, even when it wasn't necessarily referring to her. "Your sister's always smiling," she replied. "You just notice it then." We had a joke as to who would stop smiling first.

Doubtless you're wondering, if you've been aware of these happenings and read my original Smile post, what the point of this is. It did turn out to be more of a rewrite than I thought it would.

I wasn't sure what the point would be myself. I had thought of writing this, probably before they got married. You see, today feels like an anniversary to me, even though their anniversary isn't for over three more months, and even the month-anniversary and anniversary of when he asked her isn't until the 28th. The 25th probably means nothing to them, but like I said, it feels like an anniversary to me. So I felt like doing this...but what was the point? I wasn't sure I had one. I even thought of ending it with something like, "I don't have any conclusion for this, I just felt like writing it because I'm still smiling."

But over a month ago, I got a point.

Though it was challenging, I didn't know as I listened to a study last September 9th that it would affect me so much, just as I hadn't with that email. In like manner, this wasn't really the start; things had been setting up for this day for some time, and the more official anniversary-the 28th for Ryan and Grace, the 16th for this-came later.

After the study when my friend said she wanted to speak to me, I didn't know what it would lead to. We noted things that we saw in our associations with others that we knew weren't right. But we were picking at slivers, not realizing that to remove those slivers, we must first remove the plank, for until that was done, we couldn't see clearly, and more slivers would be produced.

So the Holy Spirit began working in our hearts, revealing our sin, making our desire to change our own hearts, to die to ourselves and live to God. We realized that if our hearts were right with God, if we truly loved Him above all else, then we would naturally desire to speak of Him, and these other things would naturally be resolved.

On the 16th of September, we prayed together to dedicate our new vision. In the wee hours of that morning, we began to speak of heaven, and we got this glorious view of what a truly eternity-focused life would be like. Our joy was unbounded, and for days I couldn't help but smile.

But we know that human beings are fickle and forgetful. We wanted to have fortitude, to not lose sight of that joy and glory. So we determined to keep each other accountable.

Like before, I wanted to share the happenings. It was so exciting, I might have had to tell people even if it had been forbidden. I relayed this exciting happening to Grace. "It's like at your engagement," I told her. "I just can't stop smiling!"

"But it's better," she said.

I forget if she said it's better, more exciting, or happier. Regardless, it stuck firmly in my mind. It's better. Obviously it is for me, but that Grace would think to say it made me wonder. It's better? Of course I have to say it is, but is it?

No Christian would disagree in theory, of course. But as Christians, realizing the goodness, joy and glory of marriage, we sometimes forget. Seeing how wonderful a picture marriage is, we forget that marriage is the picture, CHRIST is the reality. We know that our relationship with God is the most important thing, but I think we often feel that life begins and ends with marriage. It is marriage that gives us fulfillment, not Christ.

And marriage is just an example; it's like that with many things. You see, marriage is concrete to us. We don't have to exercise any faith to see that it is, and that it is good. Christ? Well, we have faith that we have a relationship with Him, but since we cannot see it except with eyes of faith, we often lose sight.

Growing up as a Christian, I know many things the world doesn't realize. Were I to completely abandon my faith, I still would not live outwardly as the world does. All those "terrible" sins-I know that they will not make me happy. But because of this, I can use Jesus as a supplement to my life. Instead of having a good marriage because of love for Jesus, Jesus becomes a way to make my marriage good. Instead of serving others because of love for Jesus, I serve others because I have the knowledge that life will be better that way. Instead of ministering to others so that I will please my Savior, I minister to others to impress those who see me.

In other words, Jesus is a way to make my life good, rather than becoming my life. I know God's way, but do I love it?

I laugh as I read over my Smile posts. I was glad to be a bridesmaid, because people excused my talking about the wedding. I thought about it often, and I was glad if anyone brought it up. Conversations about it caught my ear. People laughed at my silly obsession.

Why was it so exciting to me, I wonder? I have asked myself that multiple times, and I imagine I am not the only one. Regular interest in a wedding, even that it was the first one I could remember being involved in a lot, doesn't explain it. The only reason I can think of is because I love Grace, and I am interested in things that affect her.

It's a silly example, perhaps, but isn't this how we should be with our Savior? Wouldn't we think constantly of Him-and therefore want to speak constantly about Him-wouldn't His name catch our ears, if we truly loved Him? Shouldn't we be willing to look goofy and obsessive, even in the eyes of our family members and other Christians? I long to have that sort of love for the Savior, that others would see me as a little too eager.

But that is not something you can work up. I didn't try to love Grace. I never said, "Okay, she's getting married, so I'm going to be really excited." It even crossed my mind that maybe if it was just a mental choice, I'd choose not to be so much. So, to some degree, it wasn't my decision. And yet, if I had not already had that relationship established, had not already spent time with her and gotten to know her, I wouldn't have been excited about it. And if I had chosen to suppress it, I could have. Our relationship with God has that same tension. As we seek God, He does the work in our hearts. It isn't up to us--yet we can suppress His work or seek it.

A year from when I first found out about the engagement, I am not excited as I was then, yet when I think about it, the joy remains. In a year from September, I may not be jumping out of my skin, but I do not want to lose the joy that I have found in a thirsting desire to love Christ above all, especially self. I want to still be smiling over His glory revealed to me. Realizing that things of this earth don't matter, because I'm going to HEAVEN! These things are but a picture of the reality to come.

And I write this as a reminder to myself. (Which is a good thing, because it's way too long for anyone else to read!) Since we do lose sight and forget the reality of the spiritual, those moments when God reveals Himself to us in a special way are precious. Just as reading that first Smile post reminds me of the excitement I once had, and brings back a smile of remembrance, so I write this that I may not forget the excitement I once had in striving to follow after Christ and the longing to desire Him more than anything, and to call myself back to that joyfulness. "Restore unto me the joy of my salvation."


Thinking it over, I realize: it is better. Way better. Because there's no greater reason to smile.

A Meditation on Isaiah 53

Some weeks ago, I decided to quickly review Isaiah 53, a passage I was memorizing with a couple friends. My intention was to run through it, half reading, half reciting, before I began whatever I intended to do that day. I started doing so-and then I got to verse eleven.

It may have been the new part at the time, causing me to pause more on it, or maybe it was just the Holy Spirit causing me to pay attention and to seek to actually be affected by the passage. Anyway, I stopped and considered the first line of the verse again. He shall see the labor of His soul and be satisfied. If you aren't familiar with Isaiah 53, do read it. It speaks of Jesus, and having read it many times, I had considered how He was revealed and portrayed in this verse before. But for the first time this thought came to me.

He shall see the labor of His soul and be satisfied. What an awesome and reassuring verse. I had thought of this like the verse of a song we sing sometimes at church. "Take pleasure when You look on/The fruit of all Your pain/Enjoy Your glory formed in us/You suffered not in vain." This time, however, it made me further think of my desire to do worthwhile things that please God, and I felt encouraged. Jesus is spoken of here as God's servant, and we are also His servants. So, I thought, our labor is also not in vain. Verses like, The Lord will repay each man according to his deeds, came to mind.

I had already found the next sentence interesting to ponder. By His knowledge My righteous Servant shall justify many, for He shall bear their iniquities. Now, I wondered, what does this mean for me? Two things come to mind-the "bearing" of the sins of the lost, the burden of seeking growth for baby believers, in prayer for them and sorrow over them, and secondly, the bearing of the sins of those I know, as in "love covers a multitude of sin" and "it is [man's] glory to overlook an offense."

When I reached the end, instead of moving on, I returned to the beginning and reread it, seeking specific application rather than just appreciation of Jesus as I had mostly before.

(I didn't write down my thoughts that day, so some are from other times later.)

There are many specific instances in the chapter that illustrate the main idea I found: if Jesus, then why not me? In the first verse it says, Who has believed our report? and a little while later, There is no beauty that we should desire Him. He is despised and rejected by men. The application is obvious; if others also reject me and don't accept my words, it is only to be expected. That in itself is a challenge, for I don't experience that much, and it makes me think: no one can reject your report if you haven't given it...

Verse three cuts deeply. This is the Son of God, yet we despise and reject Him, do not esteem Him, hide our faces from Him. And why? There is no beauty that we should desire Him...a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. We need beauty to accept the glorious Son? How shameful. This makes me think of others-why do we not accept them? Because we find no beauty in them? How shameful. Jesus, even at that moment of worst appearance according to our fleshly evaluation, was more beautiful than any other sight. We cannot trust ourselves. We must trust that each person, despite any appearance otherwise, is glorious as a creature bearing God's image.

As the song says, Man of sorrows, what a name... The glorious Son, acquainted with grief. If the Son of God was made perfect by what he suffered, how much more a sinful people?

Yet, not only was He acquainted with sorrows and griefs in His life, but He also bore our griefs and sorrows. For our peace He was bruised, by His suffering we are healed. We turn away, and the Lord lays our iniquities on Him. (What glory! Only a wonderfully merciful God could think of it!)

So...? "Bear one another's burdens." How willing we should be to suffer for each other! Even for those who reject us, who "hide their faces" from us.

Practically, what does this mean? Obviously serving and praying for others. Perhaps seeking out that relative who does not seem to care for us. It means change in the smallest, silliest ways, that seems so insignificant that we excuse ourselves from them. For example, getting my little sister a drink when she forgot to take her bottle to bed again and I am so tired and half-asleep I do not feel like getting up. Or not bugging my brother when I want to get on the computer before bed. Not retorting in a way that puts others down, even when I think they totally deserve it. If Jesus suffered so for those who hated Him, why can I not help around the house or in the garden when I'd rather not? If He subjected His body to such pain, why can I not discipline my body in eating and sleeping habits? If He gave up eternity for earth, why can I not use my time to do what I ought rather than what I want?

These examples seem so small and unimportant, but they are ways that I can die to myself, and by not retorting when others are being stupid, being patient when I must wait for them, responding calmly when others are sinning, I can practice bearing the sins of others. "Do not despise the day of small beginnings," and "He who is faithful in little is faithful in much." That verse always stings...

The next part is obvious, but what a challenge! He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth...as a sheep before its shearers is silent... Isaiah goes on in verse 8 to say, "He was taken from prison and from judgment." There are different ways to take this, but considering His trial, though I don't know if it's accurate, I like to think of it as the rendering, "in His humiliation His judgment was taken away." He was judged, but not justly. He was condemned when He was innocent, yet He made no objection.

I don't need to tell you what I'm thinking. The verse, "For what credit is it if, when you are beaten for your faults, you take it patiently? But when you do good and suffer, if you take it patiently, this is commendable before God," says it for me. He, the perfectly just, righteous, and equitable, was not given justice. This makes me think of kids saying, "That's not fair!" God is a God of justice, and one day all things will be made "fair." But our concern should not be to get our justice. 

So, did your parents treat some sibling better than you? Did a family member or acquaintance take something of yours? Did someone's work for the church get recognized when your greater work did not? Did you get in trouble for something you did not do? Praise the Lord! You did not get justice, just like your Lord. "Therefore God has highly exalted Him." "'Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,' saith the Lord." Great is your reward in heaven.

But when we think of injustice, how can we compare ourselves to Jesus? Nor was any deceit in His mouth. We usually deserve any ill treatment we get. We have no right to complain, for we have done violence, and our mouths are full of deceit.

The next verse, as we think of Jesus' experience as a model for our lives as we are, is scary. Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise Him; He has put Him to grief. Yet it continues, When You make His soul an offering for sin, He shall see His seed and prolong His days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in His hand. Does the pleasure of the Lord prosper in your hand? Or is it more likely to be your own pleasure prospering? 

Remember that things are not as they seem. Jesus looked defeated, and He was numbered among the dead. But His days were prolonged. He seemed to have no heir. But His family is great, and He lives to see it. The next verse is the encouragement that we began with, that we shall be satisfied and rewarded for our work.

These are simple thoughts, whatever came to mind, and so if you are like me, it is a temptation to dismiss them. But, I think, that's how life is. We are too sophisticated a people. We make things too complicated, when really, the important things in life are simple. And we, a sophisticated and forgetful people, need to be reminded of them.

The Power of Christ's Suffering

3 He is despised and rejected by men,
A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.
And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him;
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.

4 Surely He has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.

Meditating on Isaiah 53 a few weeks ago, a thought struck me. I know it wouldn't have worked for Jesus to have just come to earth as He was, for He had to be a human being in order to take the sins of mankind on Himself. But as I came to these verses, I wondered. Why did He have to suffer so much? I mean, the goal was to take away our sins. Of course, He had to die, even perhaps on the cross. But couldn't that be a one-day thing? God turns the hearts of men. Couldn't He just cause them to rise up and kill Him one day, without all the physical suffering, and couldn't He have lived a more normal life, with regular followers and not all this emotional pain of rejection?

Of course, even though I had these thoughts, I knew it couldn't be, and that astounding verse came to my mind: Hebrews 5:8.

Hebrews 5:7-10

7 who, in the days of His flesh, when He had offered up prayers and supplications, with vehement cries and tears to Him who was able to save Him from death, and was heard because of His godly fear, 8 though He was a Son, yet He learned obedience by the things which He suffered. 9 And having been perfected, He became the author of eternal salvation to all who obey Him, ¹⁰ called by God as High Priest “according to the order of Melchizedek,” 

It's one of those things no one can quite get. The Son of God, who is perfect, learned obedience. How can Jesus learn anything? He's the eternal word. How can He be perfected? He's already perfect. He never changes.

The previous chapter in Hebrews is the next thing that comes to mind.

 15 For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. 16 Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Imagine the story without Jesus' suffering. Only what is absolutely necessary for Him to die. The only rejection He endures is that which is obvious because of those who don't believe. He'd still be our Savior. He'd still be a man, able to remove our sins. It'd still be an unbelievable sacrifice for the Son of God.

But the compelling power would be lost.

I wonder what that means for us. Without His suffering, the power of His story would be lost. Our hearts would not feel the same ache when we think that He would go through that for us. And though He was perfect before, we now know that He can understand our weakness. What glory and love, that He would endure pain, not only to save us, but so that we would believe, love Him, be comforted.

If someone you knew were in danger of death, theoretically you would do almost anything to save him, even if it was someone you aren't very close to. But how much are we willing to suffer to give another comfort? Jesus suffered such hardship, not only to save us from our sins, but for our edification.

It makes me think of that verse, "Now these things happened as examples for us..." This refers to the Old Testament, but surely it applies to the new as well, as John writes, "but these were written that you may believe..." Our objections are silenced when we hear what He did. Not only our objections to believing, but even in our Christian walk. How can we complain of anything-anything-when we remember this?

Without suffering, the power is lost. Suffering is God's tool of sanctification. And of all people, what have I suffered? Nothing. Yet I am unwilling to endure the petty suffering I do have. Think of the power we would have if we really understood this.

I post this as a reminder to myself, and maybe it will encourage you as well.

A Word Picture

A poem of sorts that I wrote a few weeks ago.

perfect,
pure,
holy.
awesome,
loving,
high.
matchless,
just,
worthy.
righteous,
sovereign,
kind.

justice,
grace,
favor.
goodness,
mercy,
life.
wisdom,
kingship,
honor.
patience,
beauty,
light.

wicked,
dead,
evil.
godless,
ruined,
sad.
fallen,
slave,
sinful.
hurting,
selfish,
bad.

trouble,
strife,
failure.
envy,
gossip,
strain.
heartache,
meanness,
anger.
losing,
murder,
pain.

cherished,
bought,
chosen.
godly,
joyful,
bathed.
thankful,
happy,
risen.
living,
righteous,
saved.

mercy,
peace,
bondman.
soldier,
comfort,
life.
fullness,
worship,
freedman.
blessing,
sonship,
Christ.

In a Year's Time

Today is the last day of 2011. That's a crazy thought.

Where were you twelve months ago? Isn't that an interesting thought to ponder? And I don't mean physically only, of course. Emotionally, spiritually, in your relationships, in your thoughts...where were you?

It's amazing how quickly we forget. Things that I thought at the time I'd never forget are now like a dream in the morning-as it hovers in the back of your mind, you can almost recall it, but not quite.

The past year has been full, it seems, with lots of change. I suppose that's always true, and perhaps every year it seems more true than before-again, how quickly we forget. I wonder how many times I have remarked, "That seems like a really long time ago," about something that happened this year. Things as close as September seem long ago. Hey, things as close as the beginning of this month...

Which makes written records fun and interesting.  I looked over my poorly-kept journal, and I'm glad for what's recorded; for even those times I cannot fully remember. Personal writing is something worth doing, whether by journal or letters or recording prayers or even scribbles on a calendar. It increases your thankfulness as you see ways that the Lord has worked or answered prayers that you forgot you even asked.

Last year I wrote a list of goals, mostly self improvement, and most of them will be repeated if I do one this year. One goal was to have Romans, James, the Sermon on the Mount, and some Isaiah verses memorized. This isn't nearly as lofty as it sounds, as some of these (namely Matthew 5-7 and James) should have been memorized years ago. But in the Lord's providence, I started doing a women's Bible study on James, and so I had a specific goal, to be able to say James up to where we were studying, and subsequently, I think I can say it all now-though I'm a little stumbly on the last chapter or so. The others I sadly failed at.

Since the beginning of this year, over and over again I've been challenged in diverse ways, in different settings, about the importance of prayer. While there's been an improvement over twelve months ago, most of these proddings have gone without a permanent effect. So, my goal for this year is to spend more time in prayer, sacrificing other things, as we do for other relationships. Most of our friendships would suffer if we spent the same amount of time talking with them as we do with God.

And I know by experience that the amount of time by the clock you've spent in prayer isn't necessarily the time you've really spent. It's the equivalent of those relationships with someone you say hello to-perhaps you say hello three, four times a day, but still you get no deeper than a greeting. I catch myself thinking, I haven't prayed today...I should, and then shooting off some generic prayer, during which I think, I should be paying attention but what am I going to do after this?

Instead, our goal is the relationship of one whom, having missed them for a while, we set up a date to meet and have a good talk-and of course, once reached, to progress even further, for unlike a human, God is always available to all, and doesn't have to cut down on His time with you because He's meeting with Suzy down the street. Pretty awesome, isn't it?

But though the goal is to "pray without ceasing", it's hard to reach; yet, without a specific goal, I have found, our sinful flesh gets in the way, and it won't be done. So, I encourage you to set a specific goal for yourself and do something eternally significant in the next year.

Because time goes quickly past, and before you know, you will be at the end of 2012, looking into 2013, wondering where this year went; and the movies, or web surfing, or book, or whatever it is that takes your time, that you gave up will not matter, but time spent with God has eternal reward.

Where will you be in a year's time?