“…Teach me that if I do not live a life that satisfies Thee,
I shall not live a life that will satisfy myself.
Help me to desire the spirit and temper of angels
who willingly come down to this lower world to perform Thy will,
though their desires are heavenly,
and not set in the least upon earthy things;
then I shall be of that temper I ought to have.
Help me not to think of living to Thee in my own strength,
But always to look to and rely on Thee for assistance.
Teach me that there is no greater truth than this,
that I can do nothing of myself.
How precious is time, and how painful to see it fly
with little done to good purpose!
I need Thy help:
O may my soul sensibly depend upon Thee for all sanctification,
and every accomplishment of Thy purposes for me,
for the world,
for Thy kingdom.”
— Happiness, The Valley of Vision
Pink and blue buttons.
Red and green bubbles.
The blue checkmark and the unnerving silence.
(A hundred questions unanswered.
A thousand questions unasked.)
Numbers and stats.
Cars and vans.
To do it well. And right.
And even so, presented to the Master Architect,
Mine were all soap bubbles and sandcastles.
Repeated lessons from the One who loves,
Until the sour grapes become the forgotten memories of a restful, weaned child.
“For my beloved I will not fear; Love knows to do For him, for her, from year to year, As hitherto. Whom my heart cherishes are dear To Thy heart too.”
— Amy Carmichael
Isobel, on the platform of Dread Disease:
The future of my loved ones, after I leave them? The Lord who has been so kind to me will not be less so to them.
“I hope He shall lose nothing of you in the furnace, but dross.”
— Letters of Samuel Rutherford
“The LORD will preserve everything else for us.” — Isobel Kuhn
For the past six to nine months, it seems a lot of dross has been picked up, such that it is hard to walk, hard to know which way, what direction. The fear is that I cannot discern between permissible and desired. Was it not best but permitted? Will it become an idol that must also be broken down?
There is an empty echo when the words we speak in public are not backed by a richer walk with God in private. And my words ring out that empty echo on prayer, on service, on devotion, on daily living… I hear and feel it — I don’t know if anyone else does, too.
What is the root cause, and what is the remedy?
The adults may give books and reading…
I think the children and the aged may tell me this: Tell God.
“There but for the grace of God, go I.”
Lost, but for the Good Shepherd, Who seeks and finds. And none can pluck us out from His hand.
If reading, will You pray?
And may the next letter be of answered prayers.