Category: trust in God

John must have wondered . . .

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

I have a number of “lighted coals” in my life.  One of them is Amy Carmichael whom I have quoted quite often in this blog.  She never fails to “rekindle” me.   And one of my favorite things is to introduce my good friends to one another.  Here is another gem from her:

I have been reading Luke 1.  “With God nothing shall be impossible” [Luke 1.37].   Then I read Acts 12.  James was killed in prison; Peter was set free.  God, with whom nothing is impossible, did not answer the prayers of those who loved James in the same way as He answered prayers of those who loved Peter.  He could have done so, but He did not.  “And blessed is he who takes no offense at Me” [Luke 7.43].  The words seem to me to be written across Acts 12.  John must have wondered why the angel was not sent to James, or at least have been tempted to wonder.  Again and again in Acts the Lord Jesus seems to say those words under His breath, as it were.  Let us turn all our puzzles, all our temptations to wonder why, into opportunities to receive the blessing of the unoffended.
     And now all the grief of those days has been utterly forgotten by those who loved James; they have all been together with him in the Presence of the Lord for 1900 years, and the one thing that matters now is how they lived through those days when their faith was tried to the uttermost.
     So it will be with any who are longing to see the answer to their prayers for those who are in affliction, or any other adversity.  In a few years–how few we do not know, but few at most–we shall all be together in joy.  So with us, too, all that matters is how we live through these days while we are trusted to trust.   (Thou Givest . . . They Gather, p. 76)

The same day that my good friend, Deb, was in her bad car accident, I heard of another person who spun out on the expressway, hit a truck, ended up facing the right direction, and was able to drive off without injury.  I, too, have wondered, but I also know only too well: “Blessed is he who takes no offense at Me.”

Advent and seeds

Sr. Dorcee, beloved4 Comments

A reflection from Caryll Houselander:

A seed contains all the life and loveliness of the flower, but it contains it in a little hard black pip of  a thing which even the glorious sun will  not enliven unless it is buried under the earth.  There must be a period of gestation before anything can flower.

If only those who suffer would be patient with their earthly humiliations and realize that Advent is not only the time of growth but also of darkness and hiding and waiting, they would trust, and trust rightly, that Christ is growing in their sorrow, and in due season all the fret and strain and tension of it will give place to a splendor of peace.   (Caryll Houselander, The Reed of God, p. 36)

I have more than I prayed for

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The poem I chose for this Sunday could more accurately be termed “poetic prose.”  It’s a piece by Catherine Doherty, and I’m not sure of its source.  Her perspective on God’s work in our souls during dark times gives great food for thought.  It is obvious, at least to me, that the place at which she arrives is absolutely a work of grace–but one which God can do for each of us.  It is one of the great paradoxes of the spiritual life, one which Luci Shaw addressed in her poem, “Of Consolation” which starts: “It is down/makes/up seem/taller . . .” 

   I prayed to God for songs and laughter.  He gave me tears instead.  I prayed for life in valleys green, full of harvest rich.  He led me through deserts arid and heights where snow alone could feel at home.

   I prayed for sun, lots of dancing, and sparkling rivers to sail upon.  He gave me night, quite dark, starless, and thirst to guide me through its waste.

   But now I know that I was foolish, for I have more than I prayed for.

   I have the Son for bridegroom.  The music of his voice is a valley green, and river sparkling on which I sail.  My soul is dancing, dancing with endless joy in the dark night he shares with me.

An unknown Puritan many years before had written something similar in a poem entitled, “The Valley of Vision”, which includes this line: “Let me learn by paradox/that the way down/is the way up . . .”  The poem ends:

Lord, in the daytime stars can
     be seen from deepest wells,
          and the deeper the wells
               the brighter thy stars shine;
Let me find thy light in my darkness,
               thy life in my death,
               thy joy in my sorrow,
               thy grace in my sin,
               thy riches in my poverty,
               thy glory in my valley.

May you find His light in your darkness. . .

I can’t say God didn’t warn me

Sr. Dorcee, beloved3 Comments

I can’t say God didn’t warn me.  This morning I woke up early and picked up a book I’m reading, Can God be Trusted?  The last section I read before Mass was all about our need for patience.  Then I heard that one of our sisters who works at one of our homes for the elderly had been at the ER since 1:00 a.m. with one of the residents.  After Mass I decided to run over to the ER and bring her some breakfast and a cup of coffee.  I got halfway there (without a cell phone, mind you) and realized I didn’t know the resident’s last name.  I called home when I arrived, found out the last name, but that didn’t turn up anyone on their list.  I called home again, which after some sleuthing, found out that that was her maiden name, not her married name.  Giving the correct last name didn’t turn up anyone either.  Come to find out they were at the ER at another hospital across town!.  I didn’t have time to run over there, so I came back home with an uneaten breakfast sandwich and the cup of coffee.  And don’t ask me God’s purpose in all that.  Maybe it was just an exercise in patience–which I definitely had the grace for today.  God’s ways are not our ways, but they are always the best.   At the least, I can ask your prayers for our resident, that God provide all she needs and that she may be at peace.  Thanks.  And may you all have the patience you need today to trust in God’s ways.

Little words (5) “But if not . . .”

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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 . . .”

Little words (3)

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

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.”

How long, O Lord?

Let us, in the middle of any difficult situations we may be, choose to put our trust not in the quality of our faith, but in God’s desire to deal bountifully with us.

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The verse, “How long, O Lord? Wilt thou forget me for ever?” in yesterday’s meditation by Amy Carmichael caught my heart, so I decided to do a little scripture study on the psalm from which it comes, Ps. 113.  I remember distinctly a time quite a few years ago when I was going through a very dark time in prayer.  Not only did God seem distant, I couldn’t even find Him.  I was on retreat at a Trappistine abbey, and I remember a prayer time there when I cried out to the Lord with very similar words to David’s: “Lord, have You forgotten me?”  I did not hear an answer, but, needless to say, there was grace to keep persevering in prayer.

Psalm 13 is short, only six verses.  The first four express the psalmist’s distress, both in his relationship with God, but also with the enemy.  These are verses that we all have, or will pray, someday.  But what struck me the most yesterday as I was pondering the psalm, were the last two verses:

But I have trusted in thy steadfast love;
     my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
     because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Anyone can pray the first four verses, but it takes faith, hope, and a great confidence in the Lord to pray those last two.  Listen to Derek Kidner’s comments on these two verses:

The I of verse 5 is emphatic (as in NEB, etc.: ‘But for my part, I . . .’), and so, to a lesser degree, is thy steadfast love.  However great the pressure, the choice is still his to make, not the enemy’s; and God’s covenant remains.  So the psalmist entrusts himself to this pledged love, and turns his attention not to the quality of his faith but to its object and its outcome, which he has every intention of enjoying.  The basic idea of the word translated dealt bountifully is completeness, which NEB interprets attractively as ‘granted all my desire’.  But RSV can hardly be bettered, since it leaves room for God’s giving to exceed man’s asking.  As for the past tense in which it is put, this springs evidently from David’s certainty that he will have such a song to offer, when he looks back at the whole way he has been led. (emphasis added)

Let us, in the middle of any difficult situations we may be, choose to put our trust not in the quality of our faith, but in His desire to deal bountifully with us.

The age-long minute

If you feel like Jesus may pass you by, have hope–He is coming to you.

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Sr. Dorcee, beloved3 Comments

The title of this post comes from a meditation by Amy Carmichael on Ps 107.29-30: He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.  Then they were glad because they had quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven.  I have to say that my first thought after reading Then they were glad because they had quiet, were: “This verse must mean a lot to parents of toddlers and teenagers!”  Amy’s reflection was other–and deeper–than mine 🙂

jesus-walking-on-the-water“Then they were glad because they had quiet;” the words were music to me.  Then in reading the different stories of the Lord calming the sea, I found this: “He came to them . . . and meant to pass by them” [Mk 6.48].  The more literal the translation the more startling it is.  As I pondered the matter I saw that this “age-long minute” was part of the spiritual preparation of these men for a life that at that time was unimagined by them–a life of dauntless faith and witness in the absence of any manifestation of the power of the Lord; and it must be the same today.  Such minutes must be in our lives, unless our training is to be unlike that of ever saint and warrior who ever lived.  Our “minute” may seem endless–“How long wilt Thou forget me,” cried David out of the depths of his–but perhaps looking back we shall in such an experience a great and shining opportunity.  Words are spoken then that are spoken at no other time . . .  We have a chance to prove our glorious God, to prove that His joy is strength and that His peace passeth all understanding, and to know the love of Christ that passeth knowledge.
     And the “minute” always ends in one way, there is no other ending recorded anywhere: “But immediately he spoke to them, and said, ‘Take heart, it is I; have no fear” . . . and the wind ceased” [Mk 6.50].   
     “Then they were glad because they had quiet; and he brought them to their desired haven.”
                                                  (Edges of His Ways, pp. 143-44)

If you feel that you are in “an age-long minute”, have hope–He is coming to you and will bring you to your desired haven.

“It was in every way a hard time for David . . .”

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Well, no one has told me that they’re tired of my Amy Carmichael quotes (or maybe you’re all just being nice to me), so I’m going to share a couple more today and tomorrow.   They tie in nicely with yesterday’s post, “Being honest with God.” 

Ps 4.7 Thou hast put gladness in my heart, more than in the time that their corn and their wine increased.

Psalms 3 and 4 were written when David fled from [his son] Absalom [cf. 2 Sam 13ff]; and if, as some think, Psalm 4 was written at the time of the Feast of Tabernacles, the harvest and the vintage were over, and the rich stores of corn and new wine were at Absalom’s disposal, while David had nothing or very little.  It was in every way a hard time for David, and it was not surprising that many said there was “no help for him in God” and “Who will show us any good?”  We all know times of trial when the voices within and without talk like that.  But David’s faith breaks through, and he can honestly say, Though hast put gladness in my heart more than when corn and wine increased.  It is not difficult to have gladness in our hearts when we have what we want–corn and wine may stand for whatever we most enjoy doing or possessing–but God asks for something far more than this.  He wants what David offered Him when he wrote those words more than.
     What David offered to his God was a heart that was utterly satisfied with His will.  There were no private reservations, no little whispered “if”–if only I can be where I want to be, and have what I want to have, then there will be gladness in my heart, O God; he did not say that–he did not even say, By Thy grace I am glad, I am as glad as I should be if I had those stores of corn and wine.  He went further, he flew right out of all the restricting thoughts that might have caged his spirit, up and up into the free air of God, and he said, Thou hast put a new kind of gladness in my heart.  It does not depend on what I have, it is more than that sort of gladness.  It is a joy that is entirely independent of circumstances.

To be continued tomorrow . . .

Being honest with God

If you can’t be honest with God, how can you truly be honest with yourself?

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Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

I was just conversing with Diane H. re: the post, “This God–His Way is Perfect.” (See comments on that post.)  This morning the Scripture reading for the Office of Readings was Jeremiah 20:7-18, a long passage which I will not quote in its entirety here.  It starts with:

You duped me, O Lord, and I let myself be duped;
   you were too strong for me, and you triumphed.
All the day long I am an object of laughter;
   everyone mocks me. . . .
The word of the Lord has brought me
   derision and reproach all the day.

An honest statement if ever I’ve heard one.  Jeremiah, of all the prophets, lived a life of great foreshadowing of the Suffering Savior.  Not just his words, but his very life was an icon of Christ in His suffering.  And, as we read here, he was obviously very honest with God.   

Then, in this passage, he continues to speak with honesty:

But the Lord is with me, like a mighty champion:
   my persecutors will stumble, they will not triumph . . .
Sing to the Lord,
   praise the Lord,
For he has rescued the life of the poor
   from the power of the wicked!

Jeremiah was able to rise above his experience at the moment to proclaim what is true–and honest–despite his circumstances.  A few verses later, we find him again crying out to the Lord, telling it like it is:

Cursed be the day
   on which I was born! . . .
Why did I come forth from the womb,
   to see sorrow and pain,
   to end my days in shame?

I couldn’t help thinking of Jesus’ own struggle in the Garden and His honesty with His Father at that time.  If you can’t be honest with God, how can you truly be honest with yourself?  Jeremiah was working through his circumstances, looking for God’s perspective, and that requires complete honesty.  It takes a lot of trust to be completely honest with God.