A very present help (Psalm 46:1) – c.h. spurgeon

Covenant blessings are not meant to be looked at only, but to be appropriated.

Even our Lord Jesus is given to us for our present use.
                    Believer, thou dost not make use of Christ as thou oughtest to do.  

When thou art in trouble,
          why dost thou not tell him all thy grief?
Has he not a sympathizing heart,
          and can he not comfort and relieve thee?

No, thou art going about to all thy friends, save thy best Friend,
          and telling thy tale everywhere except into the bosom of thy Lord. 

Art thou burdened with this day's sins?  Here is a fountain filled with blood:
     use it,
          saint,
               use it.

Has a sense of guilt returned upon thee?
     The pardoning grace of Jesus may be proved
          again 

               and 

                    again.  

     Come to him
               at once
                    for cleansing.

Dost thou deplore thy weakness?  He is thy strength: why not lean upon him?

Dost thou feel naked?
     Come hither, soul;
          put on the robe of Jesus’ righteousness.

Stand not looking at it, but wear it. 

     Strip off thine own righteousness,  
          and thine own fears too:
               put on the fair white linen,
     for it was meant to wear. 

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.
Psalm 46:1

Listening in technicolor

Listening.  My heart is listening.

I’ve been learning that I hear God best when there’s nothing hindering His access to my soul.  Imagine that!

Another lesson recently learned:  Our enemy doesn’t so much put sinful ideas into our hearts and minds as much as he works to keep virtuous concepts out of them.  C.S. Lewis puts it this way in The Screwtape Letters:  “It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things into their minds: in reality our best work is done by keeping things out.”

That is my trouble.  I am easily distracted by selfish thoughts and beliefs that cloud my better judgment and keep me from close fellowship with the Lover of my soul.

I allow these seeds of error to take root in my spirit, and the result is a wall of weeds and thistles that nearly close me off from my Shepherd’s voice.

Sure, the Holy Spirit’s promptings are there.  His whispers of righteousness prick at the depths of my heart, His home.  But I am busy doing my own thing.  On those days, I don’t want to listen.

I just don’t want to.  So, so stubborn and willfully deaf.

Yet….

Yet, I know that the instant I give up my obstinate behavior and am restored to Him, I can hear again.

It’s like Technicolor streaming onto a black and white screen.  Life is more vivid.  These are John 15:5 moments.  Why would I give them up?

On these days, the Lord speaks to my heart and assures me of His presence, His provision. 

          And I do not doubt.

Often, He gives me creative insight during these times.  I am at peace.  I am at rest in my soul.

Yesterday, I was walking closely with Him, and He directed me to Psalm 34:18.  I quote this passage to myself on rough days.  (Yes, I was having quite a day!) 

          “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

This morning, a client who is facing tough times told me that she too had been drawn to Psalm 34 yesterday, and it had given her help in her time of need.  We were both amazed by this “coincidence” and by the turn of conversation that had made it known. 

Honestly, I think God sent me Psalm 34 more for my client today than for myself yesterday.  She was greatly encouraged.  And I am encouraged by that.

I was attentive to the Spirit and His leading.

I was listening.

In Technicolor.

“I am the vine; you are the branches.  If a man remains in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.”  John 15:5

The Lord is King for ever and ever! - c.h. spurgeon

Every few days, I receive an email with devotionals written by the great preacher and theologian Charles Haddon Spurgeon.  Here's the text, based on Psalm 10:16, from one of the recent entries:

O that we could crown him more gloriously than we do! 


We would count 
no expense to be wasted 
that could glorify Christ. 


Suffering would be pleasure, and loss would be gain, 
     if thereby we could surround his brow with brighter crowns, 
          and make him more glorious in the eyes of men and angels. 


Yes, he shall reign. 
Long live the King! 
All hail to thee, King Jesus! 


Go forth, ye virgin souls who love your Lord, 
     bow at his feet, 
          strew his way with the lilies of your love, 
               and the roses of your gratitude: 


“Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown him Lord of all.”


The Lord is King for ever and ever. 
Psalm 10:16 

Waiting room

When the Lord has a message for me, He usually doesn’t shout it across the universe.  It’s subtle, quiet, whispered.  In fact, He’s been teaching me lately that He is not going to scream.

He is not going to yell.

Neither will He demand…or command, for that matter.

All He needs to do is whisper. 

My heart can hear that.  

When He wants my attention, He will gently let me know.  He loves my soul, and my soul was not made for anything but grace.

Yes this, and His glory.

Speaking of grace and glory…

We’ve been having a lot of conversations lately about waiting.  I’m waiting…and waiting…and waiting…and apparently, He is as well.  This morning, I pointed out at least five miracles that He will have to do simply to complete the plans He has already whispered to my heart.  Within these five events, He will have to set in motion multiple other miraculous works.  He really didn’t seem that worried about it.  He gave me the impression He does this kind of thing a whole lot.

Back to His quiet ways.  When I’m lacking, He often brings the wisdom of others to me in a timely manner.  Here are some very recent,  “random” thoughts on waiting and grace:

Waiting is not always passive

Holley Gerth¹ defines waiting as being “expectantly watchful.”  She cites Isaiah 40:31, “Those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”  She notes that “the ‘wait’ here is full of activity—soaring, running, walking.”

She goes on, “Yes there are times when waiting requires literal stillness.  But many times we wait as we go about fulfilling the desires of the Master.  This verse promises that approaching life in this way actually renews our strength.”

Grace in all circumstances

Paul David Tripp wrote a precious book of essays centered on Psalm 27.  A Shelter in the Time of Storm:  Meditations on God and Trouble² gleans much from this psalm of David.  The book was a gift from my friend Jessica, and she told me that she knew I’d find it meaningful from time to time, just as she had.  (Unless you’re completely broken, this is not the type of book you read cover to cover in one or two sittings.  It’s a book you can count on when there are twinges of grief or trial in your heart and mind.)

 

I found  grace in these words:

You will not send me
from Your presence.
You will not drive me
from Your grace.
You will not separate me
from Your glory.
You will not eliminate me
from Your promises.

The poem is about transgression and our (new-covenant) righteousness through Christ.  It was what I needed to hear in regard to my sin and standing…and in regard to my present waiting.  Sometimes I feel cut off from His presence because I cannot easily sense Him in my waiting. 

I fear He has forgotten me. 

I was reminded again that this will never be the case—for any reason.

Stay put and stand firm

I just started Kelly Minter’s Bible study on the life of Ruth³.  I love the story of Ruth—of obedience and overcoming, of loyalty and redemption.  Really love the redemption part!  At the end of Minter’s first study, which is about not trusting and obeying God (a key theme that overshadows Ruth chapter 1), she writes a little something that has stuck with me these past few days:  “Be encouraged by this quote from Matthew Henry, reminding us that fleeing our circumstances doesn’t necessarily remedy them.  “It is our wisdom to make the best of that which is, for it is seldom that changing our place is mending it.’” ⁴

Continuing, she writes, “God is present right where you are.  Stay put and stand firm.  It is always more blessed to be under the care of His will than anywhere else.” 

Give yourself room in the waiting

Now, we can’t drag our feet when God leads us to move on to the next step.  But until we know that step, we must allow ourselves room to breathe and to be attentive.

This is not my strong suit.  My breathing looks like hyperventilation in the waiting.  Attentiveness plays second fiddle to demanding.  My way.  Right here.  Right now.  Got it?

Clearly...

This is not trust exhibited.  

This is not grace claimed. 

The grass is not greener

Unless we are contrasting our current existence with our heavenly home, the grass is exactly the same shade of green on both sides of our personal fence.  I know this, and yet I struggle to be content.  I don’t know the future, but I have a strong indication of at least past of my life’s further ministry and calling. 

Right now, I feel torn between my two “callings”—the one I have in this moment and the one(s) I will have later in life.  This is ridiculous, this duality of purpose I place on myself.   

They don’t form a dividing line in my life.  Actually, they flow into and from the other.  I have to be careful that my looking forward in expectation does not become dissatisfaction with my current ministry.

He has grace enough for both.

1.  All quotes taken from http://www.holleygerth.com/heart-to-heart-with-holley/2012/4/23/the-best-kind-of-waiting.html.  Published April 23, 2012.

2.  Tripp, Paul David.  A Shelter in the Time of Storm:  Meditations on God and Trouble.   (Wheaton, IL:  Crossway, 2009), 42.

3.  Minter, Kelly.  Ruth:  Loss, Love & Legacy.  (The Living Room Series.)  (Nashville, TN;  LifeWay Press, 2009.  Fourth Printing December 2010), 14.

4.  Matthew Henry.  Matthew Henry’s Commentary on the Whole Bible.  Vol. 2.  (Publication details unknown.)

An expected blessing

I shared a fantastic meal with a close friend this past week.  We had not seen each other face to face in several years, though we have kept in touch in other ways. 

It was easy to pick up where we left off as if no time had passed.
Good friendships are like that.

She can ask me the hard questions, and she can tell me the truth about herself and about me. 

I trust her—we’ve been friends for 15 years.  

Prayed together.
Laughed together.
Cried together.

Talked a lot over those years.  A whole lot.  (We’re both talkers.)

We’ve been trying to catch up with each other for months and always found ourselves busy and overscheduled.  This reunion was an unexpected, last-minute assembly.

 

However, it was also an expected blessing.  We knew it would turn out well.  We just had to be in the same place at the same time.  Years of understanding each other would take over from that point.

In the course of our conversation, she shared how glad she was to have this opportunity to chat.  She’s like me—left only to our own thoughts and concerns, we can focus on our challenges and disappointments.

We become discouraged.

But an amazing phenomenon happens when we’re together. 

We talk about the trials and troubles, and we gain perspective.  In explaining our situations, we are able to realize that we’ve become myopic.

Stressed.
Distressed.

We’re not exactly standing firmly on our faith.

And we recognize we’re in the same boat!

Different stressors.
Same God.
Same wise, faithful, loving, sovereign, kind, omnipotent God.

I should know this by heart by now—after all, I became a Believer at the age of four.  I was raised in church.  My degree is in music ministry from a Bible college.  But sometimes I am distracted from what I know about God and His wisdom until a sister comes alongside to…well, truthfully…to rescue me. 

We learn from each other.  We help to reframe our circumstances in light of faith.  We walk away refreshed.

Restored.

Reminded that we are loved by an awesome God and that we are playing a minute but necessary role in His redemptive plan for all of Creation.

I find the same happens in church. 

It’s as if we come in as individuals carrying burdens.

But we walk out knowing once again that we are bound together by the provision of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Brother.

Empowered by the Holy Spirit to assist each other.
Given encouragement so we may encourage another.
Learning from our own suffering that we may be merciful and compassionate toward our neighbor.

Hebrews 10:25 exhorts us not to give up meeting together, but to encourage one another. 

Church is not about going through all of the correct, holy motions at all of the correct, holy moments.
It’s foremost about God.
Then, it’s about ministry to others.

We are refreshed as we refresh others (Proverbs 11:25).

How can we speak into—pour into—the lives of our neighbors?  How can we help to reframe every frustration (and victory!) into faith-filled, God-honoring reflections?

Church, please!  Let us make way for these expected blessings!

Doors

Darkness.  

Inky, dense, scorching blackness.  Silence at first.  Then, a frantic clamoring.  Doors slam closed, creak open, slam again.

Chaos.  Unending chaos.  And fear so substantial you could hold it in your hands if they were untied.

Where is your breath?  Have you been able to catch it even once since you were captured?
Dragged?
Unwittingly deceived and drawn from that distant dream known as Safety?

Can’t swallow.  Can’t scream.  Can’t get the bitter taste to leave.

That darkness again.  Is that the remnant of your soul?  Slipping steadily, steadily away.  Yanked, yanked away by cold, grasping daggers of danger, defeat, despair.

Give up.  Just give in.  Why fight any longer?

Worthless.

Hopeless.

You.

Without warning, your door opens.  He stands there, with his scalpel-y switchblades of talons glinting in the sickening red fire of his eyes.

Reaching.  Reaching.
          Creeping.  Menacing.

Cowering, bound and unable to save yourself.  Destined to perish here.

In another realm, Light quells darkness.  Valor arises and vanquishes evil.  A father fights for his daughter.

He is on his way.
Battle after battle.
He cannot be deterred.
Wars fought, won.

Coming.
          He is coming.

Precious—yes, he is searching for that one thing he would die for today.
Die for any day.

And when he reaches her, she will know this:
There is no darkness too intense,
          no pain too strong,
                    no cunning too crafty
to hold them asunder any longer.

Daughter, he is coming for you!

Breathe.  Be alert!  Get ready.

Prepare to adjust your vision to the holy, white brightness of the Hope that rides on a swift horse.

Hoofbeats draw nearer
and nearer
and nearer
and…

Can you sense it?  Hairs on the back of your neck carry the boding.

He is here.  Almost.  Here.

Chaos!  Shouting!  Chaos!  Raging!

Slam, slam, slam. Creak, slam.
Crack!  Creak!  Crash!  Slam!

Doors that once stood on hinges lie splintered on the floor.

One more door.  One left.

A captor that once terrorized now lies defeated on the floor.

Last door.

Locked.
          Barred.
                    Chained.

No matter.  This door collapses beneath the determined, boot-clad foot of Father.

This is the door.  This room holds the girl.  His girl.
His treasure.

Breathe.  Breathe now.
It is finished, done.
I have come to take you back.
To take you home.

Confusion.  Why, why, why would he come for you?
What here is worth returning to safety?
What here is worth redeeming?

What here is worth loving?

He reads your eyes, he who created you.  He knows you.  He always understood this would be your reaction.

Gently, and with bloodied hands, he loosens your restraints, brushes your hair from your eyes and gazes into your soul.

Hope seeps into your emptiness.  Light trickles into the blackness that has choked your being.

His love equals freedom, and he kneels beside you with the vast expanse of this love in his eyes.

Kneels and whispers.

Yes, it is for you, my used, broken, frightened girl.  All for you.  I could not stop until I reached you, freed you, carried you home.

Rest, just rest.  It is safe.  I can protect you if you will allow me.  You will be restored.

The door of our home is always, always open to you.  Always open.

Will you allow me to restore you safely, securely there?

Love letters from God

Have you ever looked up and found a gift that leaves you breathless?  Inspired?  Humbled?  Amazed at the beauty, you feel something stirring deep in your soul—a response to the offering you are about to receive.

Lately, I’ve been fascinated by some spectacularly gorgeous cloud displays during my commutes.  The way the sunlight peeks through, streams through, bombards through the misty cover….

All unique.

     All lovely.

          All on days when I was discouraged.

I realized these are love letters in their own way.  It’s as if God is saying to me,

I’m present. 

     I’m capable. 

          I’m glorious in majesty. 

               Look at how beautifully I can express this truth through My creation!

 I am thinking of you today,

     and I love you.

I created you for a personal relationship with Me,

     and I enjoy relating to you in ways you understand and appreciate.

These are the days when I want to leave behind the office, the paperwork, the bills, the chores, the traffic, the concerns and do what I did when I was a little girl:  lay down on my back in the grass

and gaze…

     and gaze…

          and gaze into the exquisiteness right above me. 

Watching for changes in the vaporous canopy.   Catching glimpses of God in the midst of His firmament.

What does He speak to your heart?  What do you hear when you read His love letters to you? 

He is mindful of us.  Not in some abstractly distant way, but in everyday, tiny moments like the fluffy clouds that capture my heart with their sunlit miles of massive, yet ethereal splendor. 

Or like sweet baby laughs,

     ebullient flower gardens,

          welcome breezes on warm days,

               gentle words from friends and strangers.   

“O Lord, our Lord,
     how majestic is your name in all the earth! 

You have set your glory above the heavens. 

When I consider your heavens,
     the work of your fingers,
       the moon and the stars,
         which you have set in place,
     what is man that you are mindful of him,
       the son of man that you care for him?

You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
    and crowned him with glory and honor.” 

(Psalm 8)

“For you make me glad by your deeds, O Lord;
     I sing for joy at the works of your hands. 

How great are your works, O Lord,
     how profound your thoughts!” 

(Psalm 92)