My prayer consists in falling down at Christ’s feet like the poor lepers in the Gospel; I come before God like the poor man who lay on the road to Jericho, wounded and stripped; I say nothing. I only show God my misery and await help from His mercy. (Dom Marmion)
Three little words today: “But if not . . .” And once again, it was Amy Carmichael who brought these to my attention. The context is Daniel 3:16-18. The three young men are threatened with the fiery furnace if they will not bow down the false god. Nebuchadnezzar asks them: If I do this, who will snatch you from my hands? Their reply is: “O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to answer you in this matter. If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace; and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image which you have set up.”
Amy refers to this passage in this selection from her book, Thou Givest . . . They Gather:
Some years ago we were caught in the turmoil of Law Court trouble [Note: Amy rescued Indian children from temple prostitution]; it lasted for many months, and utterly exhausted those of us who were submerged in it. During that time a friend came for a visit, and his (as it seemed to me) light faith was a trial, not a help. Of course, we should win, he said–“Power over all the power of the enemy”–was not that our Lord’s own word? What need for anxiety? Everything would be all right. I remember thanking God for the Psalms with their cries of depth. This shallow sureness got me nowhere. I could not forget “But if not . . .”
I do not think we should ever forget that “must” of our Lord Jesus, spoken just after the shining word about His coming: “So shall also the Son of Man be in His day. but first He must suffer many things” (Lk 17.24-5). They followed a suffering Savior, the warrior souls and heroes of faith all down the ages . . ..
Of course, this brings to mind that powerful eleventh chapter in Hebrews wherein is recounted all those who “by faith” “did not receive what was promised, since God had foreseen something better for us, that apart form us they should not be made perfect.”
May God give us the grace to be able always to say: “But if not . . .”
If It Were Not So
I thought I heard my Savior say to me,
My love will never weary, child, of thee.
Then in me, whispering doubtfully and low,
How can that be?
He answered me,
But if it were not so
I would have told thee.
I thought I heard my Savior say to me,
My strength encamps on weakness–so on thee.
And when a wind of fear did through me blow,
How can that be?
He answered me,
But if it were not so
I would have told thee.
O most fine Gold
That naught in me can dim,
Eternal Love
that hath her home in Him
Whom seeing not I love,
I worship Thee.
~Amy Carmichael
I’d like to point out another significant use of the little word, “but”, that I have circled in my bible: Job 23:8-10.
“Behold, I go forward, but he is not there;
and backward, but I cannot perceive him;
on the left hand I seek him, but I cannot behold him;
I turn to the right hand, but I cannot see him.
But he knows the way that I take:
when he has tried me, I shall come forth as gold.”
Where would we be if we only had those first two verses and not the third beginning with that little word? It makes all the difference.
Today’s little word from those circled in my bible comes from Ps 102, verse 12: “but”. The previous verses are a litany of personal suffering. As Derek Kidner describes it: “The cry of one whose sufferings are unexplained.” When one’s suffering is unexplained, it makes the suffering even more intense. The psalmist pours forth his woe: “My heart is smitten like grass, and withered; I forget to eat my bread. Because of my loud groaning, my bones cleave to my flesh. . . I lie awake, I am like a lonely bird on the housetop . . . for you have taken me up and thrown me away.” These are dire cries from a forsaken soul.
Yet, out of this heartfelt suffering rises the little word, “but”–and that word makes all the difference: “BUT you, O Lord, are enthroned forever; your name endures to all generations. You will arise and have pity on Zion.” Etc. An incredible act of trust and courage. This is indeed heroic hope. A hope and trust placed not in one’s circumstances but in Someone who can be trusted because of Who He is and Whose word never fails.
May this little word encourage each of us. May we pray for the grace to use it in the midst of our own litanies, that we, too, may say: “BUT you, O Lord, are the lover of my soul. Your steadfast love endures forever. Your mercies are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness.”
More instances of the little word “all” in Scripture.
A follow-up on yesterday’s post about the little word “all”. After reading Amy’s reflection on “all” meaning all, I found myself noticing that little word more. For instance, Ps 25.16: “All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness.” “All” means all, not some. So wherever the Lord leads my steps are full of His steadfast love and faithfulness. No matter how it looks or feels.
Or take Ps 145. I have eleven “alls” circled in my Bible in that psalm. For example, vv. 17-18: “The Lord is just in all his ways, and kind in all his doings. The Lord is near to all who call upon him . . .” Take some time to find the rest of them yourself. . . and better yet, meditate on what that little word means for you. “All” means all.
Little words in Scripture can be very significant.
I’d like to start a mini-series of posts today–about little words in the Bible. I have quite a few circled in mine. What started me noticing them–and their significance–was a meditation I read years ago by Amy Carmichael. Here it is:
Eph 6.16 Above all taking the shield of faith, with which you can quench all the flaming darts of the evil one.
The word used for shield signifies a great oblong shield which covers the whole body, and the dart mentioned here is the kind which when it strikes a hard object catches fire. The promise is that when the dart strikes the great shield of faith, though it is set on fire, it is quenched. It cannot pierce the shield. It cannot burn the one who is behind the shield. The promise covers all manner of darts. The kind of dart hurled against us makes no difference to the promise. “All” means all. Do we expect “all” to mean all? Is there a secret fear in our hearts about a certain kind of temptation which perhaps we shall not be able to overcome? Away with this fear! It is of the devil. The shield of faith is ready to be taken up and used. If we take it up and use it, not a single dart of any sort will pierce it. All means all.
Think about the power of that little word: “all”–and look for it in other places in Scripture.
Sanctity does not consist in this or that practice, it consists in a disposition of heart which makes us humble and little in the eyes of God, conscious of our weakness but boldly confident in his goodness as Father. (Therese of Lisieux)
“So let us all take courage; not one of us is too weak to be made more than a conqueror.” (Amy Carmichael)
It’s Monday, so I’m going to rely on my good friend, Amy Carmichael, this morning. She’s always got something good to think about. And this is a good word for a Monday:
Rom 8.37 More than conquerors.
James 1.2 Count it all joy . . . when you meet various trials.Sometimes when we read the words of those who have been more than conquerors, we feel almost despondent. “I shall never be like that,” we feel. But they won through, step by step; by little acts of will, little denials of self, little inward victories, by faithfulness in very little things, they became what they are. No one sees these little hidden steps, they only see the accomplishment; but even so, those small steps were taken. There is no sudden triumph, no spiritual maturity that is the work of a moment. So let us all take courage; not one of us is too weak to be made more than a conqueror.
As a “bonus” today, I’m adding another short homily to the “Talks” tab above, under “Other Talks.” This one is by Fr. Ken McKenna, an Oblate of St. Francis de Sales and a good friend of our community. He is an excellent homilist, short and to the point. He gave this homily this past Saturday on “Blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it.” Some of his examples are more pertinent to us, but I thought you would all benefit from–and enjoy–his homily. Click here. (It’s only 7 minutes long.)
“[Humility] is to have a place to hide/when all is hurricane outside.” (Jessica Powers)
This Sunday’s poem is by Jessica Powers:
Humility
Humility is to be still
under the weathers of God’s will.
It is to have no hurt surprise
when morning’s ruddy promise dies,
when wind and drought destroy, or sweet
spring rains apostatize in sleet,
or when the mind and month remark
a superfluity of dark.
It is to have no troubled care
for human weathers anywhere.
And yet it is to take the good
with the warm hands of gratitude.
Humility is to have place
deep in the secret of God’s face
where one can know, past all surmise,
that God’s great will alone is wise,
where one is loved, where one can trust
a strength not circumscribed by dust.
It is to have a place to hide
when all is hurricane outside.
Jessica Powers (1947; 1984)
Witnesses to Hope 