Breakthrough.

(11.01.09, noon)

Jesus, You are Lord of all.  Neither man’s decree nor hand rises above Yours; it answers to You and submits to Your headship and authority and lordship over all — great and small, righteous and unrighteous, natural and synthetic, animate and inanimate, dead and living…all.

Are you sovereign over suicide and death?  Mysteriously, rightly, yes.

How?  Why?  I don’t know.

But I submit to the God whose ways and thoughts are higher.  To the God to whom the secret things belong.  The God who works all things for the good of those who love Him.  The God from whom, through whom, and to whom are all things.  The God who holds the king’s heart like a stream of water in His hand, turning it whichever way He pleases.  The God who commanded the wind and waves to “be still” at one time and let them blow and crash at another.  The God who instructs the sun where to stand and instructs the waves to come no further.  The God whose way was through the sea, with footprints unseen.  The God whose wisdom is deeper and surpassing that of men; the God who needs no counselor, for there is no other God Only Wise.  The God who makes even the wrath of man to praise Him.  The God who knew and loved before the foundations of the world.  The God who neither slumbers nor sleeps nor shows partiality.  The God who is holy.  The God who foreordained the death of His only Son for sinners.  The God of the resurrection.  The God who is great and worthy of praise.  Oh Lord, not a hard Master but a kind Lord, I submit to You.  I bow the knee.

You are Lord.  You are Creator.  I am Yours.  I am created.  I put my hand over my mouth.  You have done what is good.  You do and will do all things well (oh, to believe that in my heart of hearts!).  You make no mistakes.  You are not a man that You should have regrets.  Who is God Most High but You?  The Potter need not answer to the clay.  Do as You see well to do.  Give us hearts to love You, trust You, and humble ourselves before You.  Your will is good, perfect, and acceptable.

You are God.  There is no other.

The secret things.

Her Father: Your brow speaks of heavy thoughts, child.  Come, tell them to Me.

Her: But they are so many, Abba.  And my questions are so many.  I would weary You with words, not to speak of heart heaviness.

Her Father: Child, I know your heart.  I know your thoughts.  I am not wearied.

Her: But these things I don’t understand, questions without answers … Who can know them?  Who can understand them?

Her Father: The secret things belong to Me, child.

Her: Yes, but …

Her Father, gently: Child, they belong to Me.  Will you rest in that?

A conversation with Doubt.

CHRISTIANA, weeping.

DOUBT:

What does your love for Him avail you?  Miser, look about you.  Do not tell me that you see Love’s workings here.

CHRISTIANA:

Doubt, I cannot keep you from speaking into my ear, but I will not cherish your counsel.  You would bring me down to Sheol.

DOUBT, with feigned surprise:

What?  I merely said to — look — about — you.  Can you confidently tell me that this is the working of a God who loves you?

CHRISTIANA, with a struggle:

He loved His Son.  And for my sake, He did not withhold His hand from His only Son.  How can you now ask me to doubt Him?

DOUBT:

But that was then.  You trust His hand even now as He lays down this heavy stroke?

CHRISTIANA:

It is true — I cannot see the full extent of His hand.  It is shrouded in mystery, as it was when His only Son cried to Him on the cross.  I cannot see the full extent of His hand, but I know His person.  I know His character.  I — know — Him.

DOUBT, sarcastically:

A likely tale, no doubt.

CHRISTIANA:

Doubt, would you answer a few of my own questions?

DOUBT, smugly:

Sure.

CHRISTIANA:

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose.  For those whom He foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, in order that He might be the firstborn among many brothers.  And those whom He predestined He also called, and those whom He called He also justified, and those whom He justified He also glorified.

DOUBT:

Miser, I recognize your sword.  You are speaking His Word, but where are your questions?

CHRISTIANA:

I continue: What then shall we say to these things?  If God is for us, who can be against us?

He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things?

DOUBT, mockingly:

Yes — look at what He has so graciously given you.  What has He given to you but loss?  What has He given to you but tribulation and distress and persecution and famine and nakedness and danger and sword?

CHRISTIANA:

But you evade my questions, Doubt.  Answer me this: Who shall separate us from the love of God?  Shall tribulation — or distress — or persecution — or famine — or nakedness — or danger — or sword?

DOUBT, wincing:

You would believe that though you are being slayed?

CHRISTIANA:

Doubt, it is not I who is being slayed at the moment.  Who shall separate us from the love of God?  Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?  As it is written, ‘For Your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.’  No — in — all — these — things — we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.

DOUBT, desperately:

But look!  You are weeping, woman!  Can tears yet speak of trust?

CHRISTIANA:

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

DOUBT, crying out:

You — You’ve thrust me through!

CHRISTIANA:

So I have.

DOUBT, clutching his side:

Oh, I see what you are about, woman.  I will leave this time, but I won’t be far.  And I assure you, you won’t recognize me so quickly the next time we meet.  I’ve crushed the mightiest of men and will not be so easily defeated. I’ll be back again, miser.

CHRISTIANA:

So you will.  And so my God and His Word will be nearer still.

—

(Inspired by John Piper’s A Conversation with Death on Good Friday.)

Overheard in an orchard.

Said Robin to Sparrow,
“I should really like to know
Why these anxious human beings
Rush about and worry so.”

Said the Sparrow to the Robin:
“Friend, I think that it must be
That they have no Heavenly Father
Such as cares for you and me.”

(Elizabeth Cheney)

Here he raised his Ebenezer.

Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen and called its name Ebenezer; for he said, “Till now the LORD has helped us.” (1 Samuel 7:12)

Was that the stone? He brushed the dust from his lashes with the back of his hand.  It was much smaller than he had expected.  He pulled a browning map from his satchel and examined it carefully.  He squinted, as if squinting would help him decipher Grandpa’s scrawled writing.  Time had begun to blur some of the writing, but according to all of Grandpa’s notes, this had to be the stone.

Homely and small, but tremendous in significance.  He was beginning to find that many things in life were like that.

Gazing now at Ebenezer, he could almost hear Grandpa’s voice, wavering with age but still strong, recounting the story of old, “My boy, thousands of our men fell in battle against the Philistines at Ebenezer!  The ark of God was also captured there, and in the end, all our mighty men took to their heels and fled to their homes!  Fear and grief and bitterness gripped us for some time.  But by and by, we repented and Samuel prayed.  Boy, how — he — prayed!  And God delivered!”

Grandpa would then pause, knead his brow with his forefinger and thumb, and say in a low voice, “Boy, Ebenezer was the place of bitter defeat, but as the LORD lives, Ebenezer later marked the place of victory.”

And his own boyish voice would ask, “But Grandpa?  How ’bout today?  Does God still help us today?”

Grandpa’s voice always rumbled then with explosive conviction, “My boy, yes!  As the LORD lives, yes!”

Tears fell as he suddenly missed Grandpa.  It was a year since Grandpa was buried.  Home was exceedingly difficult, and though he had turned 15 just a few months ago, he still wished he could hide in Grandpa’s firm grasp.  The tears fell more swiftly and freely, hitting the ground with light thuds.  He felt as though his heart would break under its burden.

But as he looked on Ebenezer, that “stone of help,” he remembered Grandpa’s words.

“My boy, yes!  As the LORD lives, yes!”

Lessons on His will.

Her: Why always Your will and never mine?

Her Father: Child, your will and Mine don’t have to be contrary to one another.

Her: But if they conflict, if they are contrary, why Yours and not mine?

Her Father: Do you believe I love you?

Her: Well, yes.

Her Father: Then how could I let you have your way if it isn’t right … or best?

Her: But how could You withhold anything from me?

Her Father: Child, My Word says I don’t withhold any good thing from you.  I love you.  And believe Me — it is an extension of My deep love when I say to you, “No, My child, not your will.  Mine.”

A sweet surrender.

Lord, here I hold within my trembling hand,
This will of mine — a thing which seemeth small;
And only Thou, O Christ, canst understand
How, when I yield Thee this, I yield mine all.
It hath been wet with tears and stained with sighs,
Clenched in my grasp till beauty hath it none;
Now, from Thy footstool where it prostrate lies
The prayer ascendeth: “Let Thy will be done.”
(D. M. M’Intyre)

Lessons in trust.

Her Father: Do you trust Me?

Her: Yes.

Her Father: Do you trust Me with the uncertainties?  With what you do not know?

Her: Yes.

Her Father: Do you trust Me with the certainties?  With what you do know?

Her: Ye–what do You mean?

Her Father: The things that have thus far been certainties your whole life long–the ongoing struggles, the past, the hearts of those dearest to you, the same prayer prayed for years without answer–do you trust Me in these things, too?

Her: I …

Her Father: When the certainties in your life cause you to cry out again and again, “How long…?”  And when it seems that I am neither hearing nor answering, do you yet trust Me?

Her: …

Her Father: Child, don’t fear or despair.  I formed you and made your heart so that knowledge must precede trust.  So I will teach you to know Me more.  Then you will also learn to trust Me more.

On fear.

(This is going to be a quickie, because I’m really sleepy…)

As I was sharing some fears with a good friend today, he said something like this:

I’ll pray for you — not that He would take away your fears but that He would help you walk in spite of them.

This totally caught me off guard.  I was expecting to hear, “I’ll pray that He’ll take away those fears,” or “I’ll pray you’ll conquer those fears and then be able to step out in faith,” or something along those lines.

But walking by faith when the fears still aren’t dissipated?  Stepping out in faith when the fears are still nudging at my heart and mind?  Trusting Him when my fears may actually be pretty legitimate?

Crazy…

“When Giving Thanks Is Tough.”

Last night, my friend Jaimee called me.  Her 10-month old son, little Nathan, had been in the hospital for weeks.  I don’t understand all the medical terminology, but in brief, he’d had a handful of major surgeries on his brain and had been hospitalized.  She called me yesterday to tell me that the doctors said there was nothing they could for him anymore.  Nathan had (has) little time left.

This is one of those times when words fail.  When the hurting, the shattered hopes for his recovery, and the God, I don’t understand can only be expressed through tears (or worse, through a deadness that threatens to dry the tears and harden the heart).

On the way back from the hospital last night, I was trying so hard to reconcile what I believed to be true about who God is and what was happening.  When I woke up this morning, I compared my view of God with the image of Jaimee, TJ, and little Nathan in the hospital.  God who says He is Love and a broken, hurting family.  God who says He is sovereign and unchanged circumstances.  The Who and the what didn’t seem to fit together.

Today, I read through my notes from last week’s sermon again, When Giving Thanks Is Tough (Habakkuk):

Habakkuk asks God, “O LORD, how long…?”  He’s tired and disillusioned, even angry, but he’s honestly seeking God’s face.  (God would rather we move toward Him in complaint than away from Him in disappointment and disbelief.)

When He feels distant, when He seems to be silent, we’re given the choice to fasten our hope on God’s unchanging character — not just as a knee-jerk reaction to blessing but in the midst of dismal circumstances.

Habakkuk questions God’s concern … and then His very goodness.

C.S. Lewis wrote this in his journal after his wife died of cancer: I don’t think I’m in much danger of ceasing to believe in God.  The real danger is of coming to believe such dreadful things about Him.  The conclusion I dread is not, “So, there’s no God after all,” but “So this is what God is really like…”

When every ropes breaks.  When every door shuts.  When you ask for strength but only see weakness.  You think, “He knows my hurt, my struggle, my concern … then why?”

Our problem and concern is the hurt.  God’s concern is us … perseverance …

In Habakkuk 2:1, Habakkuk says, “I will take my stand at my watchpost and station myself on the tower, and look out to see what He will say to me, and I will answer concerning my complaint.”

Part of the LORD’s response to him is, “But the LORD is in His holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before Him” (Habakkuk 2:20).  He is in His holy temple.

We cannot always grasp His methods, but we can know Him.  This doesn’t mean that there’s no pain, but it’s tempered by the knowledge of who He is.

Habakkuk prays.  His prayer is a walk through the past, remembering God and His deeds.  I don’t know much about His ways and methods now than I did then … but I know Him.

Habakkuk praises God.  Circumstances haven’t changed, but he has.

Habakkuk 3:17-18 — “Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the product of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.”

Though all visible signs of God’s blessings are stripped away and even when His presence seems to be absent, I will rejoice.  That’s the kind of trust He desires in us and a gratitude that doesn’t change, because it’s fixed on His unchanging goodness.

Habakkuk wasn’t born like this.  Remember the clenched fist?  It didn’t come naturally to him.  He learned it.

Reflect and remember.  Rejoice, because He’s always good and faithful.

When I gave up thinking within myself about the theological implications of this painful situation and instead began taking my conflicted, broken thoughts to God Himself, I began to remember (not just in the sense of recalling to my mind but really knowing and remembering) who He is … because I was talking to Him.  He’s Abba.

He is on His throne.  He is also near, so near, to the brokenhearted and the crushed in spirit — to Jaimee and TJ, to Grandma Kit and Grandpa Jim, to other family, to little Nathan, to our church family.

And we will praise Him … even if it’s through tears and struggles.