Sunday Sentiments: Washing Machine Theology

 

You know, there's nothing that strikes terror into the heart of the mom of 5 like a puddle under the floor of the washing machine.

Visions of unwashed laundry mountains flashed before my eyes. . . . I was convinced  (convinced I tell you!) that our washing machine had breathed its last.  Fighting back waves of panic, I started surfing the local big box retailers' websites, pricing new machines.  The choices were overwhelming; top-loader, front-loader, energy star compliant, high-efficiency, eco-friendly.  Which one was right for our family?  How in the world was I ever to choose?

Thankfully, I didn't have to make that decision - the puddle was a result of a faulty plumbing issue.   But I was reminded of this moment because of a comment a friend of mine made at dinner the other night.  "You once told me," she quipped, "that mothers are like washing machines. . . you have to know your capacity!"

The idea was not original to me, although I'd love to claim that moment of brilliance as my own.  But it's one I've shared over and over again with many a friend and mother - truthfully, usually a homeschooling mother - when the beast named Comparison rears its ugly head.

You know the one.  You've seen her, heard about her, read her blog, or heard her speak at a homeschooling convention. She's the mother who seems to Have It All Together.  She rises while it's still dark, runs 4 miles, has incredible devotions, and then teaches her 9 kids from lesson plans she made up herself while grinding her own wheat for bread and keeping her house spotlessly clean.  Her children are obedient, creative, and beautiful.  Her husband adores her, has a successful job, and brings her flowers "just because".  She's crafty, she's kind, she runs a home-based business, she ministers to orphans. . . . . . you name it, she does it.  And does it well.

And you sink in your shoes, ashamed and inadequate, measuring yourself by a yardstick that will do nothing but throw your own woeful shortcomings back in your face. 

But then . . .then you hear a voice. . . . . . the voice of Jesus. . . . .

"If it is My will that he remain until I come, what is that to you?
You follow Me!"  (John 21:22)

Jesus was speaking to Peter; good old Peter, the one I can relate to, who just blurts out whatever he's thinking.  He's comparing himself to "the disciple that Jesus loved" (John), and asking what John's future will hold.  Apparently, the Comparison Beast is not new, nor even claimed exclusively by homeschooling mothers! (I don't think Peter even owned a denim jumper. . . . a little homeschool mom humor there for ya!)

But what was Jesus saying, and what can we take away, store in our heart for our times of need?  In my mind, I imagine something like this:

"Peter.  Have you not learned?  Have you not learned to keep your eyes on Me?  Not on the waves, not on the sword, not on other disciples, but on Me?"

And is that not what Jesus is calling us to as well?  Dear sisters in Christ, is that not our challenge?

Keep our eyes on Jesus.  Not on our circumstances, not on our curriculum, not on our husband or our children or our careers or our homemaking. . . . . .

But on Jesus.

Know your capacity.  Know what God has called you to.  And stay true to that calling.

To go back to the washing machine analogy.  Some of us are standard washers. Others can handle a king-sized comforter with room to spare.  Still others are apartment-sized compact machines. 

Know your capacity.  Know what God has called you to.  And stay true to that calling.  Not anyone else's. . . . . yours.

And it's okay, dear ones.  It's okay that you can't do it all, and do it all perfectly.  Jesus loves you.  He died for you.  Your worth does not rest in who you are, but in Whose you are.  

Keep your eyes on Jesus.  His grace is sufficient.  His love is endless.  And He - He alone - is worthy.

Sunday Sentiments: On the Main Thing

So put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and all slander.  

 Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation—  

if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.  

1 Peter 2:1-3, ESV

Challenging, convicting, wonderful message this morning in our Sunday School Class.

The main text was Galatians chapter one, the grace upon grace that God has poured out on us through His Son, the glorious gospel that He has given to us.  In vs. 6-7, Paul is astonished that anyone can be attracted to anything other than the grace of God.  We are not saved by the gospel plus any other doctrine. . . . . .we are saved by the gospel.  The pure milk of the gospel.

Oh, how I need to hear that.  How I need to remember that.  How I need to live that.

This is the land, you know, of churches that split over paedocommunion or credocommunion, over eschatology, over family-integrated vs. non-family integrated,  contemporary vs. traditional.  You name it, we'll divide ourselves about it.

How sad.

And while I'm still - personally - wrestling through the whole concept of "When is a doctrinal difference important enough to leave a church" - today was a strong, needed reminder.

Look at 1 Corinthians, chapter 1.  After a discussing believers quarreling over baptism, Paul writes:

For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with words of eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power.

What is Paul preaching?  The gospel.  The power of the cross of Christ.  What was Paul's main thing?  Preaching the gospel.  All the time.  Everywhere.  To all people.

Oh, that my heart would beat to such a tune.  So tonight I am begging - no pleading - that the Lord would cause to grow in me such a desire for the gospel, that I could truly be satisfied with nothing else.

That I would taste - and see - that the Lord is good.

And keep His glorious gospel of grace the main thing.

That, I think, would be enough.

Tonight's Two Inspirations

from Sally Clarkson:

The measure of a great woman is not her strength, but her reliance on God. Today I read this in my quiet time:

Lord, you have always given bread for the coming day; 

And though I am poor, today I believe.

Lord you have always given strength for the coming day;

and though I am weak, today I believe.

Lord you have always given peace for the coming day,

and though of anxious heart, today I believe.

Lord you have always kept me safe in trials,

and now, tried as I am, today I believe.

Lord, You have always marked the road for the coming day;

and though it may be hidden, today I believe.

Lord, You have always lightened this darkness of mine;

and though night is here, today I believe.

Lord, You have always spoken when time was ripe;

and though you be silent now, today I believe.

And from another blog I frequent:

"The happiest people don't have the best of everything, they make the best of everything."

And that's where my heart's at tonight.

Picking Up the Pieces

This morning, I took our dog for a walk, and found this piece of wallpaper in our front yard.

Somewhere, this was part of someone's house.  In Tuscaloosa?  Mississippi?  I can only guess.  But this morning, all over Alabama, we are left picking up the pieces of the deadliest tornado - ever, I think - to hit our state.

After coming in from my walk, I checked email to find that a friend of ours died last night, protecting his family from a crushing beam as their house collapsed around them.  In his last weak breaths, he was uttering prayers that the Lord would protect his family. 

And the Lord did - the rest of them - his 12 children and his wife - were physically protected from the worst of the devastation.  Tom took the punishment of that blow on his body, and saved those he loved.

The pieces of their lives that they are picking up today. . .and the next day. . .and the next. . . . .are far more shattered than a piece of wallpaper.

Tonight, I was up planning worship for the final meeting of the kids' missions group tomorrow night - my heart hasn't been in it all day, but tonight I could put it off no longer.  The theme for tomorrow night is, fittingly enough, "Restoration".   One of our verses is Revelation 21:4. . . .

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.

Oh, how I long for that day.

This is one of the hymns I chose for tomorrow.  I know most of you know it, but pay close attention to the third verse - it's not sung often.  But it has spoken to me tonight.

Be Still My Soul

Be still my soul – the Lord is on thy side;
bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
leave to thy God to order and provide;
in every change – he faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul – thy best thy heavenly Friend
through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know His voice
Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still my soul – when dearest friends depart,
and all is darkened in the vale of tears,
then shalt thou better know his love – his heart,
who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul – the waves and winds still know
his voice who ruled them – while he dwelt below.

Be still my soul the hour is hastening on
when we shall be forever with the Lord,
when disappointment – grief and fear are gone,
sorrow forgot – love’s purest joys restored,.
Be still my soul – when change and tears are past,
all safe and blessed – we shall meet at last.

May all our souls be still, in the knowledge that the Lord, He is God.  And He is good.

(Note:  Any of you who are moved, donations for the family who lost their father - and other families who experienced complete devastation - are being collected by Christ Church Branch Cove.  Just click on the link to donate.  Thanks.)

Resurrection Sunday Sentiments: The Last and the First

It was almost an offhand comment, really.

In the middle of the sermon, in the middle of corralling the 6-year old wiggle-worm (how many times can she drop her stuffed puppy on the floor???), but it stuck in my mind and resonated all morning.

"They were the last, and they were the first."

The women, that is.  The women who loved Jesus, followed Him, listened to Him. . . . they were the last to leave the tomb on Friday night, and the first there on Sunday morning.

Isn't that just like us?  Us women, I mean.

Look.  Here I am, up late, doing the things that need doing for my family.  (Editor's note:  Yes, I know.  Blogging does NOT count as "a thing that needs doing".  Except for my sanity. So there.)  Tomorrow morning, Lord willing I will be up early, getting the day started, doing all those mom tasks that just must. get. done.  Often, I am the last to bed.  I'm not often the first up (hubby beats me there most days!), but I'm often starting my day's tasks early.

Just like the women who loved Jesus.

However.

Unlike those women who stayed late at the cross, and went early to the tomb - and here's the confession - I am all too often found grumbling.   Allowing self-pity at "my lot in life", grumbling at the work set before me.

To my shame.

And it struck me this morning.  It was a privilege - a privilege, I tell you!!! - for those dear saints, sisters in the Lord, to be the last and the first.  Because if they weren't, they would very likely have missed the miracle, the honor, the blessing of being the first to see the empty tomb.

So I started wondering.  Am I missing the miracle, the honor, and the blessing of serving my family, of serving Jesus, through my sinful attitude?

I'm afraid I am.

So let me live as my sisters of old, being the last, being the first.  Serving and loving.

And living in Reality of the Resurrection.

What lies underneath

I have some friends - make that many friends - who are having significant, life-altering difficulties right now.  (No, you wise-crackers, I'm not talking about Butler fans. Anywho.)

 We see each other on a day-to-day basis, and yet many of them are struggling to function.  Getting out of bed is a monumental task.  Looking at the faces of those they love and not breaking down into tears - another near impossible task.  Maintaining any kind of normal routine?  Forget about it.

I've been there.  Still am, some days.  Fewer and fewer days lately, but still some.

How many of these folks do you know?  How many do you pass on the street, at work, in the stores?  How many people hide a pain that you don't even know is there?  

And how many of them worship side-by-side with you on Sunday, concealing pain under an "everything's all right" veneer that can be scratched thin by the well-meaning "How are you doings?" that are offered by their fellow pilgrims?

I talked with one of these dear friends tonight.  And we talked and talked and talked. . . . .

We talked about the hurt, that lies underneath the veneer.

But.

Then we talked.  And talked and talked and talked. . . .about what lies underneath the hurt.

You know what it is?

Grace.  Sustaining, life-giving, wonderful, matchless, GRACE.

What is sustaining grace?

Not grace to bar what is not bliss,
Nor flight from all distress, but this:
The grace that orders our trouble and pain,
And then, in the darkness, is there to sustain.

~ John Piper

The grace of God that has been poured out into our hearts, through the merciful, wonderful, amazing sacrificial death of our Lord Jesus Christ and His glorious - GLORIOUS! - resurrection.

Do you hear me???

Yes, there is something underneath the shiny veneer of polite society.

It's pain.  Hurt and pain.

But - there is something underneath that pain. . . . . do you hear me?????

There. Is. Something.

If we will but rest in it.

And it is grace.

And it is, my friends, amazing.

Laying Down our Lives

Laying down our lives. . . what does it look like?

Sure, we know what it looks like for the some people.  You know, the ones who have given up everything, moved halfway around the world to minister for the sake of the gospel?

Yes, it's easy to see that one. 

But what about . . . . . others?  What about. . . . me?

Ponder this quote from Sally Clarkson:

The laying down of our lives is not just about moving to the most impoverished country or preaching to thousands. But right in front of us, the child who would long to have our comforting touch and gentle voice of life-giving words, that he may imagine the voice and touch of God when He ponders faith as a young adult and chooses to believe because the reality of God was in his home.

The child who needs one more song to be comforted before sleeping, so that he might  be able  in adulthood to believe in a God who is patient and willing to answer prayer and hear our voice when we as his children cry out in faith.

The child who is lonely, confused, hormonal, who will feel the touch of God, the sacrifice of God as we give up the rights to our time and comfort to befriend and listen and show compassion and sympathy for what is on his heart.

Love is given through a candle lit and a special breakfast served one more time on Sunday before church as we open the gospel together, that the reality and beauty of God’s creativity is validated in how we live.  

It is shown with the sacrificial life of giving up what we wanted to do, or the job we hoped to have, in order to build a soul through the attention of ourselves. A looking into the eyes with true interest and compassion instead of looking at a screen while half-heartedly listening. These are the sacrifices of our love, the moment by moment giving up of ourselves, the constant, year end year out practice of worship as we serve those in our home in order to please His heart.

It is for Him, for His kingdom that we serve with willing, generous, life-giving hearts, as the building of His kingdom is one heart at a time.

Weighty and encouraging thoughts for the week.  Join me as we consider what laying down our lives looks like - right here, right now.

For the sake of Him who gave up all, that we might live with Him.

Encouragement from a Titus 2 Woman

Q:  Who is Sally Clarkson?

A:  One of the most gentle, encouraging, godly women who is speaking to mothers today.

Take the time to go and read her blog, especially this post:  Adversary or Advocate?

Here's the question she's getting at:  Is God our adversary, looking for every wrong thing we do, ready to pounce on us with a "gotcha" and devise an appropriate punishment? Or is He rather our advocate, One who is for you, defends you, and works for you?

And if we are reflecting God's heart to our children, then how about us?  Are we our child's adversary, or their advocate?

Weighty, meaty, wonderful, encouraging stuff.  Go read.

Sunday Sentiments: When the Answer is "Yes"

Many, if not most of you have heard already.

Dearest Kathryn received a Presidential Scholarship to Samford University here in Birmingham.  While it won't cover all of tuition, the award she received, along with her University Fellows scholarship, gives us enough confidence that the Lord is indeed directing her steps there.  (Although she's still in the running for 3 more scholarships - so keep praying!!)

But that's not what this post is about, ultimately.

It's about what happens to a dry, parched, and withered heart when God pours the wellsprings of "Yes" to water the thirsty ground.

Many, if not most, of you also know that our family has been on a 3+ year journey of God deepening our faith through. . . . . . unanswered prayer.  It's not much of a secret that we've been in what Paul Miller* calls 'a desert experience' - a desert where it has appeared there is no way out, we don't know when it will end, and there's no relief in sight.

But while we're in the desert, we've clung tenaciously to the belief that God has not abandoned us - although it has certainly, to our human frailty, appeared that way sometimes.  We're stubbornly believing that God is weaving a story in our lives, one that will ultimately bring Him glory and honor.  In the words of Peter, "Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life."  (John 6:68)

Which doesn't make it easy.  I've written before about my latest temptation - the temptation to give up hope.  Lately, though, God has allowed hope to spring in my heart - a tender, frail seedling of hope - rooted in Who He is, not what He will do for us.

And so.  When this "Yes" came, this much desired, prayed-for, hoped for "Yes". . . . . .

I bawled.  Like a baby.  Thankfully, in private. 

It was as if the waters of grace came spilling down from heaven, nourishing the seedling of hope, and overflowing in my heart.  And I am so thankful for a God who not only cares deeply about me knowing Him, but also for a God who cares about our situation.   A God who doesn't withhold blessings, but can do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.

All praise to God, who is writing the story of our lives.  May we watch, wait, and wonder in eager anticipation as He enables us to participate in His glorious kingdom.



*Remember how I told you to go find Paul Miller's A Praying Life?  I wasn't kidding.  Go read it!

Anyone Want an Update?

First, I can't thank all my friends enough for their prayers.  Really.

What we prayed for was that Kathryn would represent herself well, and not leave with any regrets.  That she would do her best, and we could leave the results up to God.

Your prayers were answered. 

When I asked Kathryn what she learned over the weekend, she replied, "I learned that I love doing interviews!"  How crazy is that?!

So, some quick highlights:

First, on the University Fellows program. Yurii & I met with the professor who is in charge of the business portion of the program.  She not only remembered Kathryn, but stated she was very impressed by her application and asked that we make a point to bring her to meet her on Saturday evening.

Second, on the Scholarship portion.  Suffice it to say that when Kat answered "James Madison" to the "Which leader do you admire, and what lessons have you learned from his/her life?" question, and when the interviewer is a pharmacy professor who happens to be a history buff?  Score.

Third, on Samford in general.  We came away favorably impressed.  Kathryn admitted she really, really would like to go there.

However.

We realize that the Lord may have other plans for her life.  And we're trusting that should He NOT provide the needed funds to attend Samford. . . . . . .

That means that for Kathryn and our family, attending there would be a "stone" in her life, not the bread that we all desire for her.

So there you have it!  Stay tuned - we'll know more information by the 20th, I think.

Overheard in My House, Episode 8

Sitting at the school table, Amy comes out with this gem:

"Mom, I want to have a dazzling intellect."

Huh?

Like one of our friends says, she should have her own YouTube Channel.

On Trust, Hope, and Praying for Your Heart's Desire

Here we go!

Later this morning, our dear, wonderful, cherished eldest daughter will be interviewing at her top choice college, competing for a spot in the University Fellows program and for the Presidential Scholarship.  As in, full tuition.

It's been a long week for the mother, here.

I've been so torn - knowing this is where her heart's desire is, praying the Lord would allow favor.  And yet, as I've been praying for her, my faith has been bumping head-long into the smashed and shattered dreams of the past five years, all the time we have prayed and hoped and pleaded with the Lord regarding my husband's job situation, to be told "No" or "Wait" again and again and again.

Sometimes it makes praying tough.

Sometimes it makes trusting tough.

And yet. . . . . .

 "Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!"  (Matthew 7:8-11)

 How often do my own kids ask for something they want with all their heart at the moment, and I know that in the long run it will be bad for them?  Or that they don't see the full picture, as to why I can't say "yes" at that time?  And that in saying yes to their desire, I would in effect be giving them the proverbial stone instead of the bread?

Do I not trust the God of all the Universe to do what is right?  Do I not know of the love, the lavish, profound love, that God the Father has for me? 

And more than that - do I not know how He loves my daughter so much more than I ever could?  He knows what she needs in all aspects of her life.  He can see her path and her future, and will work all things so that her life will be more and more conformed to the image of Christ.

And so.

I hope, and trust, and pray, and ask God fervently that she may do well this weekend.  Represent herself, her family, and her Savior with all that she is.  I pray that she may find favor with the interviewers, and that it would bring glory to God to provide her with the scholarships necessary to attend this university.

And yet, I rest.  Rest in the knowledge that God's ways are not our ways, and that His thoughts are much higher that our thoughts.  That He may direct our paths in very, very different ways that we would ourselves have chosen.

So join me, won't you?  Join me in praying - not for our situation alone (although I sure would appreciate it!) - but pray with abandon to a Father who loves you and wants to hear from you.  A Father who can be trusted to work all things for His glory. 

He can be trusted with your heart's desire.

**Can I recommend The Praying Life by Paul Miller?  It has really energized and changed the way I view prayer.**

Joseph: Another Look

The story is oft-told, and a familiar one.   A tired husband, a young wife large with child, a long journey.

Have you ever wondered why?  Why would Joseph take such a long journey, when Mary was clearly in no condition to travel?  I've been on a few bumpy tractor rides in my day, relatively close to my due date, and let me tell you - that was no picnic.  Why would Joseph take her far from her home, her family, her women relatives and friends who would likely be the ones to assist her in her hour of need?

Well, there was this census, you see.  Joseph and Mary had to go there to register. 

Or did they?

Consider this:

In the Middle East, men usually represent their families in any official or legal matters.  Why did Joseph take Mary with him to Bethlehem for the registration?  The easiest explanation is that he was unsure what might happen to her if he left her in Nazareth without his presence to protect her.  It behooves us to see Joseph as a hero of the story without whose courage and understanding of the prophets there would have been no Christmas story to tell.  (Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes: Cultural Studies in the Gospels, Kenneth O. Bailey, p.46)

The picture of Joseph, protector of his bride, is a new one to me.  Mary was known in Nazareth - known as the one who was with child while betrothed.  Not an honorable position; recall the taunts of those in Jesus' own hometown, "Isn't this Mary's son?"  What could have happened to her - the supposed unfaithful one - without her faithful husband's protection?  Recall the Old Testament penalty for adultery. . . . . .

To me - this is yet another remarkable instance of God's providence.  To give Mary such a husband, such a man, that in his integrity, care, and faithfulness he would take her on a most difficult journey, a journey that would result in her Son being born in the city from which the promised Messiah would hail. . . . . . . . only a sovereign Lord.  Another detail in the marvelous Christmas story that just astounds me.

And by way of recommendation, Kenneth Bailey's book, Jesus through Middle Eastern Eyes is simply fascinating.  Not a light read, but sheds amazing light on the gospels when seen in light of the Middle Eastern culture and customs of Jesus' time.  If you receive any gift certificates, I'd highly recommend it.



 

Sunday Sentiments: Let the Stable Still Astonish

Let the Stable Still Astonish

 by Leslie Leyland Fields

Let the stable still astonish.
Straw–dirt floor, dull eyes,
Dusty flanks of donkeys, oxen;
Crumbling, crooked walls;
No bed to carry that pain,
And then, the child,
Rag-wrapped, laid to cry
In a trough.

Who would have chosen this?
Who would have said: “Yes,
Let the God of all the heavens and earth
Be born here, in this place?
Who but the same God
Who stands in the darker, fouler rooms
Of our hearts
And says, “Yes,
Let the God of Heaven and Earth
Be born here –

In this place.

Truer Words

Precious

Dorothy Bingham Ward

Jan. 17, 1919 - Nov. 19, 2010

I miss you already, Grandma.

"Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of His saints."

Psalm 116:15

On Asking, "Why?"

The past week, I've been living with my cell phone permanently attached to my body.

You see, 400 miles away, my grandmother, my precious, 91-year old grandmother, is dying a slow, long, drawn-out, painful death.

And those around her ask, "Why?"

This weekend, a family was driving home from a talent audition.  A teenager ran a stop sign and plowed into their van, killing the mom and her two sons.  The teenager had minor injuries.

And those around them ask, "Why?"

There are atrocities unspeakable in every corner of the world. . . . wars and unrest and famine and abuse and slavery. . . . .

And the world asks, "Why?"

Our friends had a beautiful, healthy baby boy last week.
A missionary we know was healed from her severe neck pain after prayer.
Our family has been provided for - miraculously - over and over again.
I woke up this morning, opened my eyes, and found my heart beating and my lungs inhaling and my brain functioning.

I have yet to hear a "Why?"

Only a "Thank You!". . . and sadly, sometimes not even that.

Now it's my turn to ask, "Why?"

Why do I question the bad, and not the good?
What makes me think I deserve only the good portion, never the bad?

In the words of Job,

 Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?

He is the Creator, I am the creation.  I cannot - I dare not - understand His thoughts and His purposes.

Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!  How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! (Romans 11:33)

May I receive from His hand blessing and trial, and give Him praise and honor all my days.

Sunday's Sentiments: The Gift

This past week, I was given a precious gift.

The gift of time.

I was privileged to spend over two days with my grandmother, sitting and watching and listening and praying. 

Sitting holding her hand as she slept.

Watching as my mother and my aunts cared for her with dignity, grace, and selfless love.

Listening to her precious voice, as we talked of heaven, of cooking, of caring for our families, of no more pain or sadness.  Sharing our love for each other.  And saying. . . . honestly. . . . I will miss you.

Praying.  Prayers that God would ease her suffering.  That He would bring her home soon.  Prayers of thanksgiving for having this woman, this strong, amazing woman in my life.

In all likelihood, I was given the gift of seeing my grandmother one last time, and knowing it was the last time.  The gift of saying all that was on my heart, and receiving her love in return.

It was hard, bitterly hard.

And priceless.

Sunday's Sentiments: Hanging by a Thread

“If you are hanging on by a thread right now, 

make it a thread attached to the hem of Christ’s garment. 

It will be enough.”        

Jared Wilson

(with thanks to Not Just an Ordinary Life - a very inspirational blog)

Sunday's Sentiments on Saturday: We are not Orphans

This spoke to me today, deeply.  With gratitude to Aaron Armstrong over at Blogging Theologically. 



We are not orphans, for “the Lord is risen indeed.”

The orphan has a sharp sorrow springing out of the death of his parent, namely, that he is left alone. He cannot now make appeals to the wisdom of the parent who could direct him. He cannot run, as once he did, when he was weary, to climb the paternal knee. He cannot lean his aching head upon the parental bosom. “Father,” he may say, but no voice gives an answer. “Mother,” he may cry, but that fond title, which would awaken the mother if she slept, cannot arouse her from the bed of death.
The child is alone, alone as to those two hearts which were its best companions…

But we are not so; we are not orphans.

…There is one point in which the orphan is often sorrowfully reminded of his orphanhood, namely, in lacking a defender.

It is so natural in little children, when some big boy molests them, to say, “I’ll tell my father!” How often did we use to say so, and how often have we heard from the little ones since, “I’ll tell mother!”

Sometimes, the not being able to do this is a much severer loss than we can guess. Unkind and cruel men have snatched away from orphans the little which a father’s love had left behind; and in the court of law there has been no defender to protect the orphan’s goods. Had the father been there, the child would have had its rights, scarcely would any have dared to infringe them; but, in the absence of the father, the orphan is eaten up like bread, and the wicked of the earth devour his estate.
In this sense, the saints are not orphans.

The devil would rob us of our heritage if he could, but there is an Advocate with the Father who pleads for us. Satan would snatch from us every promise, and tear from us all the comforts of the covenant; but we are not orphans, and when he brings a suit-at-law against us, and thinks that we are the only defendants in the case, he is mistaken, for we have an Advocate on high. Christ comes in and pleads, as the sinners’ Friend, for us; and when He pleads at the bar of justice, there is no fear but that His plea will be of effect, and our inheritance shall be safe. He has not left us orphans.

Now I want, without saying many words, to get you who love the Master to feel what a very precious thought this is, that you are not alone in this world; that, if you have no earthly friends, if you have none to whom you can take your cares, if you are quite lonely so far as outward friends are concerned, yet Jesus is with you, is really with you, practically with you, able to help you, and ready to do so, and that you have a good and kind Protector close at hand at this present moment, for Christ has said it:

“I will not leave you orphans.”

(from Till He Come, by C.H. Spurgeon)