Sovereign Commander of the Universe,
I am sadly harassed by doubts, fears, unbelief, in a felt spiritual darkness.
My heart is full of evil surmisings and disquietude, and I cannot act faith at all.
My heavenly pilot has disappeared, and I have lost my hold on the rock of ages;
I sink in deep mire beneath storms and waves, in horror and distress unutterable.
Help me, O Lord,
To throw myself absolutely and wholly on thee,
For better, for worse, without comfort, and all but hopeless.
Give me peace of soul, confidence, enlargement of mind, morning joy that comes after night heaviness;
Water my soul richly with divine blessings;
Grant that I may welcome thy humbling in private so that I might enjoy thee in public;
Give me a mountain top as high as the valley is low.
Thy grace can melt the worst sinner, and I am as vile as he;
Yet though has made me a monument of mercy, a trophy of redeeming power;
In my distress let me not forget this.
All-wise God,
Thy never-failing providence orders every event,
Sweetens ever fear,
Reveals evil's presence lurking in seeming good,
Brings real good out of seeming evil,
Makes unsatisfactory what I set my heart upon,
To show me what a short-sighted creature I am,
And to teach me to live by faith upon thy blessed self.
Out of my sorrow and night
Give me the name Naphtali--"satisfied with favor"--
Help me to love thee as thy child,
And to walk worthy of my heavenly pedigree.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
No Longer Slaves, But Sons
I often find myself bound by fear. Speaking truth to myself anchors my storm-tossed heart.
It's interesting to note that the spirit of adoption is contrasted with the spirit of slavery. In both cases you are "sold." In slavery you are sold to be a slave. In adoption you are sold to become part of a family. One is for labor and the other for love.
For the slave, even though they may have a new owner, their identity remains the same-- "slave".
For the adopted, their identity changes. They go from "orphan" to "son". They go from having nothing to having everything.
Fear actually seems illogical. And it is, for a child of God. It gets us to think that God isn't ruling our lives, or he doesn't care for us, or he isn't loving. It causes us to misjudge God's character and his purposes. It binds us and makes us slaves causing us to worry and fret about things we can't control. It makes us turn inward and act like functional atheists.
No wonder one of the most common phrases throughout scripture is, "Do not fear..." As children of God, we are freed from the slavery of fear. We have received the spirit of adoption. We are no longer slaves, but sons and daughters--heirs of God.
If God is my Father than I truly do not have to fear. The one who holds the world together with a single word, will hold my minuscule world together as well. The one who rules over all, declares the beginning from the end, who's purposes always come to pass must rule and reign over all the details of my life. If he is wise, perfect, loving, and good, then whom or what shall I fear?
I did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear.
I have received the spirit of adoption as sons.
It's interesting to note that the spirit of adoption is contrasted with the spirit of slavery. In both cases you are "sold." In slavery you are sold to be a slave. In adoption you are sold to become part of a family. One is for labor and the other for love.
For the slave, even though they may have a new owner, their identity remains the same-- "slave".
For the adopted, their identity changes. They go from "orphan" to "son". They go from having nothing to having everything.
Fear actually seems illogical. And it is, for a child of God. It gets us to think that God isn't ruling our lives, or he doesn't care for us, or he isn't loving. It causes us to misjudge God's character and his purposes. It binds us and makes us slaves causing us to worry and fret about things we can't control. It makes us turn inward and act like functional atheists.
No wonder one of the most common phrases throughout scripture is, "Do not fear..." As children of God, we are freed from the slavery of fear. We have received the spirit of adoption. We are no longer slaves, but sons and daughters--heirs of God.
If God is my Father than I truly do not have to fear. The one who holds the world together with a single word, will hold my minuscule world together as well. The one who rules over all, declares the beginning from the end, who's purposes always come to pass must rule and reign over all the details of my life. If he is wise, perfect, loving, and good, then whom or what shall I fear?
For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, "Abba! Father!"
Romans 8:15
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
An Ever-Present Help
"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." Ps 46:1
"We want these words to be automatic when trouble comes knocking. What do they mean? That God can be found when we need him. Don't forget that he was found by the Israelites who were not even looking. How much more will he be found by those who call out to him in their desperation.
"Here is the challenge. When you call out, you might feel like he isn't present or easily found. That is the nature of pain. The worse it is, the more alone you feel. But this is at a time when the words of God most override your feelings. There are times when we listen to our feelings and times when we don't. This is a time when we don't. Instead, whenever there is a clash between our sensory experience and the promises of God, the promises of God win. The one who says, "Verily, verily" can be trusted. Call out and he will be found when you need him."
Ed Welch, Running Scared
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Learning about Love
There is a hymn that starts with this line: "O Love that will not let me go.." I was singing it the other day and had a perspective change. God's love towards his children is relentless, ferocious and irresistible. He will not let me go. In fact, he is willing to pull out everything from us that we think will bring us happiness and joy apart from him. If he is Life, and Joy, and Love, and Goodness than he will not let me be content with second-hand pleasures and false hopes that will only deceive me and crush me. He would be cruel to let me dabble and delight in things that would never give me life, and joy, and love, and goodness. He would be merciless if he never gave me himself.
He is willing, at any cost to us, to devour both unsafe and seemingly good things in our life in order that we might take refuge in him alone. He is like a hungry and ferocious lion casting away, ripping apart anything and everything so that we might hope in him alone.
In our pains we tend to only see things through our narrow lens instead of God's wider lens. Our pains remind us of the cross. In fact, we sometimes think of them as our crosses. But if our view is narrow we will find ourselves sitting in despair. There we are at the foot of the cross looking up at Jesus, our example. We see the pain, the blood, the sweat, the anguish. We are enveloped by the suffering and the agony. It's only until we can look at the cross with the wider lens and see that while there is pain and suffering, this was also God's greatest act of love. At the cross he was purchasing redemption for a rebellious people. He was reconciling enemies, granting them forgiveness, and making them his friends. He was redeeming his bride. He was making a new covenant secure. This was an act of immeasurable love.
If your view in the midst of pain, suffering and trials is narrow and small, you will doubt God's love for you. But if God, by his grace, opens your eyes and gives you a new perspective you can hope that one day you will be able to say, "Though this discipline is painful it is proof that I am God's child and he loves me. He has not left me alone." You will nod your head in agreement with William Cowper: "Behind a frowning providence, he hides a smiling face." And you may even rejoice because your faith is being made genuine (1 Peter 1).
If you are God's child, one thing is certain: He will not let you go. We can rest in that.
"O Love, that will not let me go, I rest my weary soul in Thee."
He is willing, at any cost to us, to devour both unsafe and seemingly good things in our life in order that we might take refuge in him alone. He is like a hungry and ferocious lion casting away, ripping apart anything and everything so that we might hope in him alone.
In our pains we tend to only see things through our narrow lens instead of God's wider lens. Our pains remind us of the cross. In fact, we sometimes think of them as our crosses. But if our view is narrow we will find ourselves sitting in despair. There we are at the foot of the cross looking up at Jesus, our example. We see the pain, the blood, the sweat, the anguish. We are enveloped by the suffering and the agony. It's only until we can look at the cross with the wider lens and see that while there is pain and suffering, this was also God's greatest act of love. At the cross he was purchasing redemption for a rebellious people. He was reconciling enemies, granting them forgiveness, and making them his friends. He was redeeming his bride. He was making a new covenant secure. This was an act of immeasurable love.
If your view in the midst of pain, suffering and trials is narrow and small, you will doubt God's love for you. But if God, by his grace, opens your eyes and gives you a new perspective you can hope that one day you will be able to say, "Though this discipline is painful it is proof that I am God's child and he loves me. He has not left me alone." You will nod your head in agreement with William Cowper: "Behind a frowning providence, he hides a smiling face." And you may even rejoice because your faith is being made genuine (1 Peter 1).
If you are God's child, one thing is certain: He will not let you go. We can rest in that.
"O Love, that will not let me go, I rest my weary soul in Thee."
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Lift Up Thy Bleeding Hand
Lift up Thy bleeding hand, O Lord,
Unseal that cleansing tide;
We have no shelter from our sin
But in Thy wounded side.
'Tis Jesus' blood that washes white,
His hand that brings relief,
His heart that's touched with all our joys,
And feels for all our grief.
(Lift Up Thy Bleeding Hand)
Unseal that cleansing tide;
We have no shelter from our sin
But in Thy wounded side.
'Tis Jesus' blood that washes white,
His hand that brings relief,
His heart that's touched with all our joys,
And feels for all our grief.
(Lift Up Thy Bleeding Hand)
Friday, September 9, 2011
Risk
My pastor just tweeted this: The biggest risk is to never take a risk.
I hate taking risks. I protected myself from hurt and pain and emotions for over two decades. I built walls. I "guarded my heart". I didn't want to let anyone in. It scared me. I wasn't scared to be known, I didn't feel like I had anything to hide. I was scared to let my heart go. My desires, my emotions are strong. So strong that they quickly become inordinate and uncontrollable. I was scared that if I let my heart attach to anyone it wouldn't ever let go.
A risk implies uncertainty in outcome. It could go well, it could go badly. Finding myself on the side where things ended poorly, and I almost wish I never took a risk.
Since I let my heart run amuck I am now having to cut and rip off attachments. The pain is perhaps the most human thing I have ever felt. I sometimes feel like I'm cutting off my own arm, or blocking up my own aorta. I wonder how my heart will beat again. The anguish is almost unbearable. Almost.
Now I risk not risking again. I know that's too costly. It will take supernatural courage and maybe a new heart to do it again. I trust I'll be ready when the time comes...
I hate taking risks. I protected myself from hurt and pain and emotions for over two decades. I built walls. I "guarded my heart". I didn't want to let anyone in. It scared me. I wasn't scared to be known, I didn't feel like I had anything to hide. I was scared to let my heart go. My desires, my emotions are strong. So strong that they quickly become inordinate and uncontrollable. I was scared that if I let my heart attach to anyone it wouldn't ever let go.
A risk implies uncertainty in outcome. It could go well, it could go badly. Finding myself on the side where things ended poorly, and I almost wish I never took a risk.
Since I let my heart run amuck I am now having to cut and rip off attachments. The pain is perhaps the most human thing I have ever felt. I sometimes feel like I'm cutting off my own arm, or blocking up my own aorta. I wonder how my heart will beat again. The anguish is almost unbearable. Almost.
Now I risk not risking again. I know that's too costly. It will take supernatural courage and maybe a new heart to do it again. I trust I'll be ready when the time comes...
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
These Inward Trials
These Inward Trials
I asked the Lord, that I might grow
In faith, and love, and every grace;
Might more of His salvation know,
And seek more earnestly His face.
In faith, and love, and every grace;
Might more of His salvation know,
And seek more earnestly His face.
I hoped that in some favored hour
At once He’d answer my request,
and by His love’s constraining power
Subdue my sins, and give me rest.
At once He’d answer my request,
and by His love’s constraining power
Subdue my sins, and give me rest.
Instead of this, He made me feel
the hidden evils of my heart;
the hidden evils of my heart;
And let the angry powers of hell
Assault my soul in every part.
Assault my soul in every part.
Yea more, with His own hand He seemed
Intent to aggravate my woe;
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.
Intent to aggravate my woe;
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.
‘Lord, why is this?’ I trembling cried,
`Wilt thou pursue Thy worm to death?’
`This in this way,’ the Lord replied,
`I answer prayer for grace and faith.
`Wilt thou pursue Thy worm to death?’
`This in this way,’ the Lord replied,
`I answer prayer for grace and faith.
These inward trials I employ
From self and pride to set thee free;
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou mayst seek thy all in Me.’
From self and pride to set thee free;
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou mayst seek thy all in Me.’
-John Newton
Sunday, September 4, 2011
"When blindness and boldness, ignorance and arrogance, weakness and willfulness, meet together in men, it renders them odious to God, burdensome to society, dangerous in their counsels, disturbers of better purposes, intractable and incapable of better direction, miserable in the issue." -Richard Sibbes
Saturday, September 3, 2011
The Double Agony
John 18:4--Then Jesus, knowing all that would happen to him, came forward and said to them, "Whom do you seek?"
Jesus knew all that would happen to him, AND still goes forward in accomplishing the mission the Father gave him. There is something remarkable about this "knowing". I look at my own life, and if I would have known all the confusion, heartache, and pain that I would have to go through I don't think I would have continued down certain paths.
But here Jesus has premonition. He knew about every pain and trouble he would go through and he still went to the cross. It's like a double agony. Going through the pain is an agony in itself, but the anticipation of rejection, pain, and sorrow certainly doubles the pain.
It reminds me of high school cross country races. The race wasn't too long of a distance so you run hard the entire course. The whole experience is not enjoyable but full of pain and agony. The joy is crossing the finish line and being done. Yet, without a doubt, the worst part was lining up at the starting line. The anticipation of all the pain, the sweat, the muscle spasms was enough to make you want to puke or walk away and not race.
My Savior was wholly committed to saving me, and went through double agony to secure my redemption. This gives me a double confidence. In one sense, he knows my hurts and sorrows and has endured way deeper pain and agony than I can even imagine. Secondly, it reminds me if he went through all of that to secure my salvation, he will uphold me today and tomorrow and until I see him face to face in glory.
Jesus knew all that would happen to him, AND still goes forward in accomplishing the mission the Father gave him. There is something remarkable about this "knowing". I look at my own life, and if I would have known all the confusion, heartache, and pain that I would have to go through I don't think I would have continued down certain paths.
But here Jesus has premonition. He knew about every pain and trouble he would go through and he still went to the cross. It's like a double agony. Going through the pain is an agony in itself, but the anticipation of rejection, pain, and sorrow certainly doubles the pain.
It reminds me of high school cross country races. The race wasn't too long of a distance so you run hard the entire course. The whole experience is not enjoyable but full of pain and agony. The joy is crossing the finish line and being done. Yet, without a doubt, the worst part was lining up at the starting line. The anticipation of all the pain, the sweat, the muscle spasms was enough to make you want to puke or walk away and not race.
My Savior was wholly committed to saving me, and went through double agony to secure my redemption. This gives me a double confidence. In one sense, he knows my hurts and sorrows and has endured way deeper pain and agony than I can even imagine. Secondly, it reminds me if he went through all of that to secure my salvation, he will uphold me today and tomorrow and until I see him face to face in glory.
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