Isaac went out to meditate in the field at the eventide (Genesis 24:63) – c.h. spurgeon

Very admirable was his occupation.

If those who spend so many hours in idle company,
     light reading, and useless pastimes,
could learn wisdom,

they would find more profitable society and more interesting engagements
     in meditation
than in the vanities which now have such charms for them.

We should all know more,
     live nearer to God,
          and grow in grace,
               if we were more alone.

Meditation…extracts the real nutriment from the mental food gathered elsewhere.

When Jesus is the theme, meditation is sweet indeed.

Isaac found Rebecca while engaged in private musings;
          many others have found their best beloved there.


Very admirable was the choice of place.

In the field we have a study hung round with texts for thought.

From the cedar to the hyssop,
     from the soaring eagle down to the chirping grasshopper,
          from the blue expanse of heaven to a drop of dew,
all things are full of teaching,
     and when the eye is divinely opened,
          that teaching flashes upon the mind
               far more vividly than from written books.

Our little rooms are neither
so healthy,
so suggestive,
so agreeable,
or
so inspiring as the fields.

Let us count nothing common or unclean,
     but feel that all created things point to their Maker,
          and the field will at once be hallowed.


Very admirable was the season.

The season of sunset
     as it draws a veil over the day,
befits that repose of the soul
     when earthborn cares yield
           to the joys of heavenly communion.

The glory of the setting sun excites our wonder,
     and the solemnity of approaching night awakens our awe.

If the business of this day will permit it, it will be well,
dear reader,
if you can spare an hour to walk in the field at eventide,

but if not,
the Lord is in the town too,
and
will meet with thee in thy chamber or in the crowded street.

Let thy heart go forth to meet him.

He went out to the field one evening to meditate, and as he looked up, he saw camels approaching. Rebekah also looked up and saw Isaac. She got down from her camel and asked the servant, "Who is that man in the field coming to meet us?"  

Genesis 24:63-65

Everlasting consolation (2 Thessalonians 2:16) – c.h. spurgeon

“Consolation.”

There is music in the word: like David's harp, it charms away the evil spirit of melancholy.

It was a distinguished honour to Barnabas to be called “the son of consolation”;
     nay, it is one of the illustrious names of a greater than Barnabas,
          for the Lord Jesus is “the consolation of Israel.”

“Everlasting consolation” — here is the cream of all,
     for the eternity of comfort
          is the crown and glory of it.

What is this “everlasting consolation”?


It includes a sense of pardoned sin.  
A Christian man has received in his heart the witness of the Spirit that his iniquities are put away like a cloud, and his transgressions like a thick cloud.

If sin be pardoned, is not that an everlasting consolation?

Next, the Lord gives his people an abiding sense of acceptance in Christ.
The Christian knows that God looks upon him as standing in union with Jesus.  Union to the risen Lord is a consolation of the most abiding order; it is, in fact, everlasting.

Let sickness prostrate us,
     have we not seen hundreds of believers as happy in the weakness of disease
          as they would have been in the strength of hale and blooming health?

Let death's arrows pierce us to the heart,
     our comfort dies not, for have not our ears full often heard
          the songs of saints as they have rejoiced
because the living love of God was shed abroad in their hearts in dying moments?

Yes, a sense of acceptance in the Beloved is an everlasting consolation.

Moreover, the Christian has a conviction of his security.
God has promised to save those who trust in Christ: the Christian does trust in Christ, and he believes that God will be as good as his word, and will save him.

He feels that he is safe
     by virtue of his being bound up
          with the person and work of Jesus.

“Now our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God, even our Father, which hath loved us, and hath given us everlasting consolation and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts, and stablish you in every good word and work.”
II Thessalonians 2:16-17

Her last two coins

On my nightstand rest two tiny coppery disks.  The symbols engraved on them are foreign, ancient.  I don’t exactly know how I came by these metallic images of sacrifice.

(source)

Each one represents a coin placed in the temple treasury by the widow whose story is recorded in Luke 21:1-4.

I learned her narrative in my childhood Sunday School class.  There, her humble gift of two small coins was always contrasted with the showy contributions of the pompous rich.  I understood, as the record shows, that she gave everything she had to live on for the Lord’s work.

By my teachers, she was lauded as a woman of great generosity…and rightfully so.  The lesson was that we should be generous in giving to the Lord, and not just in times of comfortable wealth.

But I never really thought about WHY she gave her last two coins as an offering.

It certainly wasn’t for praise or honor—it seems that Jesus was the only one who noticed her and knew her situation.  He drew attention to her, not the other way around.  My guess is that it was incredibly humbling for her to place that little bit of change in the treasury in the midst of all of the other liberal wealth flowing that day.

It wasn’t to “keep up with the Joneses” either, for who would willingly give up her last pennies as an offering at an already gilded temple when there is daily bread to buy and monthly rent to pay?

I doubt it was for atonement or some sort of guilt offering.  If she needed to respond to God’s requirements of justice, surely she would have done all she could to save up enough to purchase the appropriate animal to sacrifice at that temple, as she had been raised to do.

If not for these reasons, then why would she give all she had to live on?

Two thoughts spring to mind.

1.  She was fully devoted to God.  She had something, tiny yet precious, to give Him as an offering, and she did not allow her poverty to stop her from giving from a willing, generous, loving heart.

2.  More importantly, I think it was that she knew something about the God she served with her last ounce of sustenance:  She knew her God would provide for her needs.  Perhaps she reasoned that He had brought her, a lowly and impoverished widow, this far, and He could certainly grant her all she needed in the days to come.  She was throwing herself on His gracious promise to care for the most vulnerable of Israel (Psalm 146:9; Proverbs 15:25).

Another idea dances around the edges of my thoughts:  What if God simply laid it on her heart to take her two very last coins to the temple on the very day Jesus and His disciples were standing there?  All so future generations could have an object lesson about what it truly means to give righteously?

Of course, that prompting would likely not go too far unless our dear widow’s heart was both devoted to her Lord and filled with faith in His promises.

Stories like these make me want to grab a dozen Bible commentaries, as I did when I had an entire Bible college library easily within reach, and read what others have to say about her story.  There is so much more to an account when the cultural and historical context is explained in greater detail.  If I tried to add that to this little post, I’d get so excited and share everything…and this would end up being 20 pages long!

Back to the replicas of the widow’s “mites.”  I keep them on my nightstand to remind me to be gracious in my offerings.  (While I have not yet attained this level of giving in my finances or any of my other resources, I want to press on toward that goal.)

We humans like visible reminders of spiritual concepts.

Touchstones.

Tangibles that give us something finite to hold on to when we’re struggling to grasp what it means to serve an infinite God.

I gaze at their holding place.

These little metal disks sit beside two equally small glass spheres.  Two marbles, each one a tiny icon of two of my ongoing prayer requests.  Once each prayer is answered with a clear “yes,” “no,” or “now is the right time,” the marble representing it will be taken back to my alma mater’s prayer room and deposited in the glass bowl filled with other multi-colored, round demonstrations of the answered prayers of fellow students, faculty, staff, and alumni.

As I reflect on these four objects lined up together for the time being, it occurs to me that my coins should also be speaking a message of whole-hearted devotion and unwavering trust in a God who hears and answers our prayers and cares for us in our most vulnerable state.