'The noblest souls are the most tempted. The devil is a sportsman and likes big game. He makes the deadliest assaults on the richest natures, the finest minds, the noblest spirits.' (John Lawrence)
Welcome to the club. You may not remember when you joined. I do. I was in my mid-teens. I took my life, about the only thing of value I possessed. I gave it to God and I said 'Take my life and let it be, consecrated Lord to Thee'. That day I gave God a blank cheque. He filled it in with blood at Calvary, not my blood but His.
So now, when I feel down, in pain, useless, lonely, confused or afraid, I remember that my life is something I gave away. It's no longer mine to keep, to fret over, to barter with, to have any 'rights'. At the cross I gave up my human rights at the place where He dealt with my human wrongs. He didn't say it would be easy. He never promised a scented path up a gentle incline till I arrive at heaven's door. No. Like Winston Churchill in 1940 he spoke of tears, sweat and blood - His as well as mine. I am no longer my own, I have been bought with a price.
If you are struggling with the question 'why me?' I hope this blog will cause you to take a moment to examine the title deeds for your life too.
'Yesterday, when I said "Your will be done"
I knew not what that will of Yours would be,
What clouds would gather black across my sun,
What storms and desolation waited me;
I knew Your love would give me what was best,
And I am glad I could not know the rest'
- but I'd still do it again! Would you?
Monday, September 07, 2009
I am in an enforced, prolonged and painful period of silence. I have not preached for nearly a year, am unable to use the computer for more than about 20 minutes at a time - hence no blogs recently - and have no writing projects on the go at the moment, which is just as well, as I would be too weak and in too much pain to pursue them.
The amount of drugs needed to control my illness and manage the pain means that even my praying has taken on a new, and almost child-like complexion. I tend to 'hang around' with God rather than talk, and occasionally cry out for His mercy and a drop of relief.
The sound of silence is awe inspiring, deep with heart-hearing rhythm and womb-like feelings of getting ready for something big! And surely this 'birth' must be imminent? Can the soul bear so much travail and not bring to birth? I insist that this period must produce something in the end, even it is only the relief from pain that heaven offers.
And so - no strength left to blog. Just silence. And a God who vacated the howling wind and missed the earthquake, but showed Himself by a 'still, small voice'.
Can you hear it?