Thérèse scratched on the wall of her cell: “Jesus is my only love.”
Amy Carmichael wrote in 1893: “In my room in Japan I had two words written on my wall: Yes, Lord.”
What words would you write on your wall?
Thérèse scratched on the wall of her cell: “Jesus is my only love.”
Amy Carmichael wrote in 1893: “In my room in Japan I had two words written on my wall: Yes, Lord.”
What words would you write on your wall?
A word of encouragement from Philip Yancey for those of you who wonder what difference your everyday life is making for the Kingdom of God:
I once watched a public television series based on interviews with survivors from World War II. The soldiers recalled how they spent a particular day. One sat in a foxhole all day; once or twice, a German tank drove by, and he shot at it. Others played cards and frittered away the time. A few got involved in furious firefights. Mostly, the day passed like any other day for an infantryman on the front. Later, they learned they had just participated in one of the largest, most decisive engagements of the war, the Battle of the Bulge. It did not feel decisive to any of them at the time, because none had the big picture of what was happening elsewhere.
Great victories are won when ordinary people execute their assigned tasks. . .I sometimes wish the Gospel writers had included details about Jesus’ life before he turned to ministry. For most of his adult life he worked as a village carpenter. Did he ever question the value of the time he was spending on such repetitious tasks?
A good word for these hot days. Ann Voskamp reflects on this verse from 1 Corinthians here: “When you’re finding it hard to be patient.” Get a cold drink and thank God for it and read her post for today.
A reflection from Amy Carmichael on Ps 68.28: Thy God hath sent forth strength for Thee (P.B.V.)
Many of us know what it is to receive a word in the early morning that lasts all through the day. We live on that word; we ‘feed on faithfulness’ [Ps 37.3 RV margin].
These few words from the Psalm for the day have been with me all through the hours. ‘Thy God hath sent forth strength for thee’. The day lies before us. It will bring us things that in ourselves we have no strength to meet. That does not matter. Our God has already sent forth strength for us. It is like that other word, ‘My God with His lovingkindness shall come to meet me’ [Ps 59.10 Amer. Ver.]. Strength and lovingkindness—what more do we need? That duty, that difficulty, which we see coming to meet us, what of it? Our God hath already sent forth strength for us, and before the thing we fear can meet us on the road, our God with His lovingkindness shall meet us there.” (Edges of His Ways, pp. 21-22)
Amy Carmichael in Edges of His Ways, July 13:
Dr. F. B. Meyer once told me that when he was young he was very irritable, and an old man told him that he had found relief from this very thing by looking up the moment he felt it coming, and saying, “Thy sweetness, Lord.” By telling this, that old man greatly helped Dr. Meyer, and he told it to tens of thousands. I pass it on to you because I have found it a certain and a quick way of escape. Take the opposite of your temptation and look up inwardly, naming that opposite; Untruth–Thy truth, Lord; Unkindness–Thy kindness, Lord; Impatience–Thy patience, Lord; Selfishness–Thy unselfishness, Lord; Roughness–Thy gentleness, Lord; Discourtesy–Thy courtesy, Lord; Resentment, inward heat, fuss–Thy sweetness, Lord, Thy calmness, Thy peacefulness.
I think that no one who tries this very simple plan will ever give it up. (It takes it for granted, of course, that all is yielded–the “I” dethroned.) Will all to whom it is new try it for a day, a week, a month, and test it?
I have been mulling over these lines at the end of Ann Voskamp’s post yesterday:
“I stay for a long time at the river’s edge. I simply sit. I simply am. He is I AM — the only One who exists to hold it all together– not me. The water fall sings. Only when we rest do we relinquish our ambitions to be like God.“
That can be one of the hardest things to do–at least for me–to simply sit, to simply be, to not worry about what I am or am not. What a wonderful reminder, that first and foremost, “only when we rest do we relinquish our ambitions to be like God.”
A Sunday-poem from Jessica Powers:
But Not With Wine
“You are drunk, but not with wine” (Isaiah 51.21)
O god of too much giving, whence is this
inebriation that possesses me,
that the staid road now wanders all amiss
and that the wind walks much too giddily,
clutching a bush for balance, or a tree?
How then can dignity and pride endure
with such inordinate mirth upon the land,
when steps and speech are somewhat insecure
and the light heart is wholly out of hand?
If there be indecorum in my songs,
fasten the blame where rightly it belongs:
on Him who offered me too many cups
of His most potent goodness–not on me,
a peasant who, because a king was host,
drank out of courtesy.
A story that lifts my heart: “The Importance of Family: What He Gives in the Dark” Have a great day. If you’re in the dark, may you perceive His hand giving to you in the darkness.
I have been reading Scent of Water by Elizabeth Goudge, and one sentence has been following me around for days. One of the characters has a conversation with a man who is seen as a bit of an eccentric by others, one of those holy men whom others find it hard to understand. The conversation goes like this: “There are three necessary prayers and they have three words each. They are these, ‘Lord have mercy. Thee I adore. Into Thy hands.’ Not difficult to remember. If in times of distress you hold to these you will do well.’ Then he lifted his hat and turned round again. I stood at the door and watched him go. He had a queer wavering sort of walk. He did not look back.”
As I said, I have been pondering those three prayers–hopefully as our Mother would–and they feed my soul. I hope you find time to ponder them as well. (Have you been able to find a place to make little retreats during the day?)