Perspective

A service at the nursing home always puts me in a thoughtful mood. Clutching their stuffed toys, walkers or the sides of their wheelchairs, they come down slowly to the service. Sitting together we sing the grand old hymns. Many of them are close to heaven.

How brief our lives are in the light of eternity.

Brokenness

A cracked pot is better than a whole pot because a cracked pot allows the light to shine through. God is close to the broken hearted and His strength is made perfect in my weakness. This comforted me many times during the past few years as I was made more and more aware of my weaknesses and became more and more dependent on His grace...

But recently I stopped being broken and humble before Him. Maybe it was the running around Sunday after Sunday being a Martha without stopping to be a Mary, maybe it was just the condition of my heart which refused to be still and to wait on the Lord. Many things piled up in my heart without being forgiven or resolved, because I forgot to talk to my greatest Friend who was waiting for me every morning.

"Blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered." "Humble yourself under the mighty hand of God..." God cannot cover me with His Hand when I am standing in pride. It's only when I kneel before Him in humility that He can cover me with His Hand.

Forgive me for my pride. You are beautiful and Your ways are perfect and just. How can I follow the ugly ways or allow ugliness in my life? It's a beautiful thing to love You - You are so perfect, unchanging, humourous, sensitive, artistic. But it's a perversion to love myself too much. So take my whole heart. And when I waver, nudge me back. Beautiful, beautiful... You make beautiful all the ugly things. So come and make my heart beautiful...You are my Saviour, but I also want you to be my Lord.

Tender Saviour, hold me fast.
Sooth this troubled soul at last,
And heal the wounds of all that's past,
Tender Saviour.

Tender Saviour, speak to me.
Whisper words of hope and peace,
And let the tumult in me cease,
Tender Saviour.

And I will not give up this quest
till I know I am blessed
For I come in my brokenness,
Tender Saviour.

Tender Saviour, hear my cry,
Look with pity on this child,
And show Your mercy by and by,
Tender Saviour.

Tender Saviour, make it so.
Let Your blessings overflow,
Until You do, I won't let go,
Tender Saviour.

And I will not give up this quest
till I know I am blessed
For I come in my brokenness,
Tender Saviour.

I really want the blessing of knowing You as a reality in my life and as strength in my weakness. And I know You will answer. I will not give up this quest.

The Blessedness of Possessing Nothing

This is the title of the second chapter in "The Pursuit of God" (Tozer) which spoke to my heart recently. The story of Abraham being commanded to slay his son is told within.

"Take now thy son," God says, "Thy only son, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains I will tell thee of." No loopholes were left for Abraham. He had to kill the child of the promise, the child he had waited so long for, the child who had proved God's faithfulness to him all these years. He had to kill the child he loved - not Ishmael, whom he sent away, but the child he treated as his only son.

He was given no specifics - not the place or the mountain - but only told to sacrifice his son.

I can't imagine that Abraham didn't wrestle with God. I don't think he slept that night; I think he left early in the morning not just out of the fear of the Lord, because he knew he had to obey God, but also because his aching heart would not let him sleep. The love of his son was so great that it had become a perversion in his heart. And God to correct that tested him until he knew that God and God alone reigned unchallenged in the temple of his heart.

As God speaks to me about the "Isaac" in my heart, I pray for the courage to obey Him and the discipline to stick to my decisions. And as I read with admiration of the missionary in a far-off country who, near the end of his life in a bare hut, whispers to his children with tears, "I have nothing left to give you - for I gave it all to Jesus a long time ago" - so bring me to that poverty in spirit, where I do not fear the terror of parting with "things", knowing that I shall not want with You.

This song, "I don't know who holds tomorrow", used to bring tears to my eyes as a teenager, and now I know that it's about the blessedness of holding on to nothing.

"I don't know about tomorrow
It may bring me poverty
But the One who feeds the sparrow
Is the one who stands by me.

And the path that is my portion
May be through the flame or flood
But His presence goes before me,
And I'm covered with His blood."

His presence fulfills my need for companionship and stills my loneliness. His blood fulfills my need for righteousness and acceptance. There's nothing else I could ask for. So as You strip the idols from my heart, and though I know it might be painful - tearing away always is; thank You that I may know the blessedness of possessing nothing. : )