That those things which cannot be shaken may remain (Hebrews 12:27) – c.h. spurgeon

We have many things in our possession at the present moment which can be shaken, and it ill becomes a Christian man to set much store by them, for there is nothing stable beneath these rolling skies; change is written upon all things.

Yet, we have certain “things which cannot be shaken,” and I invite you this evening to think of them, that if the things which can be shaken should all be taken away, you may derive real comfort from the things that cannot be shaken, which will remain.

Whatever your losses have been,
or may be,
you enjoy present salvation.

You are standing at the foot of his cross,
     trusting alone in the merit of Jesus’ precious blood,
and no rise or fall of the markets can interfere with your salvation in him;
     no breaking of banks, no failures and bankruptcies can touch that.

Then you are a child of God this evening. God is your Father. No change of circumstances can ever rob you of that.

Although by losses brought to poverty,
     and stripped bare,
          you can say,
“He is my Father still.
     In my Father's house are many mansions;
          therefore
               will I not be troubled.”

You have another permanent blessing,
namely,
the love of Jesus Christ.

He who is God and Man loves you with all the strength of his affectionate nature — nothing can affect that.

The fig tree may not blossom,
     and the flocks may cease from the field,
          it matters not to the man who can sing,
               “My Beloved is mine, and I am his.”
Our best portion and richest heritage we cannot lose.

Whatever troubles come, let us…show that we are not such little children as to be cast down by what may happen in this poor fleeting state of time.

Our country is Immanuel's land,
     our hope is above the sky,
          and therefore, calm as the summer's ocean;
we will see the wreck of everything earthborn,
     and yet 
          rejoice
               in the God of our salvation.

At that time His voice shook the earth, but now He has promised, “Once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens.”  The words “once more” indicate a removing of what can be shaken—that is, created things—so that what cannot be shaken may remain.
Hebrews 12:26-27

And thou saidst, I will surely do thee good (Genesis 32:12) – c.h. spurgeon

When Jacob was on the other side of the brook Jabbok, and Esau was coming with armed men, he earnestly sought God's protection, and as a master reason he pleaded, “And thou saidst, I will surely do thee good.”

Oh, the force of that plea! He was holding God to his word — “Thou saidst.” 

The attribute of God's faithfulness is a splendid horn of the altar to lay hold upon;

     but the promise, which has in it the attribute and something more, 
     is a yet mightier holdfast—

          “Thou saidst, I will surely do thee good.”

And has he said, and shall he not do it?

     “Let God be true, and every man a liar.”

          Shall not he be true? Shall he not keep his word?
Shall not every word that cometh out of his lips stand fast and be fulfilled? 

Solomon, at the opening of the temple, used this same mighty plea. He pleaded with God to remember the word which he had spoken to his father David, and to bless that place….

It shall never be said that God dishonours his bills. 

The credit of the Most High never was impeached, and never shall be.

He is punctual to the moment:

     he never is before his time,

          but he never is behind it. 

Search God's word through, and compare it with the experience of God's people, and you shall find the two tally from the first to the last.

Many a hoary patriarch has said with Joshua, “Not one thing hath failed of all the good things which the Lord your God spake concerning you; all are come to pass.”

If you have a divine promise, you need not plead it with an “if,” you may urge it with certainty.

The Lord meant to fulfill the promise, or he would not have given it.

God does not give his words merely to quiet us,

     and to keep us hopeful for awhile with the intention of putting us off at last;

          but when he speaks,

          it is because

          he means to do as he has said. 

But You have said, “I will surely make you prosper and will make your descendants like the sand of the sea, which cannot be counted.”

Genesis 32:12

As I went down to the river

Every now and again, I go down to the river.  Literally.  I get in my car and drive for a couple of miles out to where the old country road T’s and, after a short hop over the railroad tracks, I could dip my toes in the not-so-mighty Susquehanna.

I take this pilgrimage every few months or so…more in the milder months…less in the colder, icier ones.  It is good for my soul. 

Ironically, I discovered this soul-soothing pathway while test driving my turbo-engined Saab 900 at 80 mph.  (I needed a country road for this.  I was young and the guy selling me the car thought it was a great idea.  I don’t do this kind of thing any more.)

It’s been a little while since I ventured down that way last, and I went today on a whim.  It was a gorgeous day.  The kind where Heaven seems to touch Earth and all is well. 

In my soul, this was not the case.  I needed the solace, the rest that comes from meandering down a little winding, hilly, bumpy, narrow, field-lined road.  (And—this is very important—manure has not been spread on the fields nearby recently.)

I live in the suburbs but within a stone’s throw of farmland.  Except for one, terrible five-year stint, this has always been the case for me.  And I love it! 

(My people are farmers.  Well, some of them, at least.  In the last couple of generations.  Not so much in mine.  It is a miracle that my brother and I weren’t raised on a farm, as my dad thought that mucking barns was a great way to instill responsibility…the same way he learned it.) 

I plugged in one of my favorite CDs.  Margaret Becker’s Immigrant’s Daughter from 1989.  Bliss.  Pure bliss for this girl-raised-in-the-eighties. 

I can’t remember anytime I’ve taken this drive and listened to something besides Christian/gospel music.  The jaunt is part of a spiritual journey, and somehow Bon Jovi or Michael Bublé or Skynyrd just don’t seem to set the right tone.  (Call me crazy.)

Here’s what I saw as I drove.  (Pardon the photos—I had only my cell phone with me.)  At times I stood on farm lanes, where corn grew on one side of the road and on the other stood a wheat field.  

At one point, I turned onto another little road and found this old church settled among pre-Civil War era homes.

It’s still in use, 

but the cemetery dates back to at least the early 1800s.   

God’s not afraid of your honesty.  He can heal your heart if you speak honestly.  

Humble sorrow and an honest cry—He will not pass by. *

These crosses stand behind a white municipal building-cum-church in the middle of corn fields

Just come in, lay your heart right here.  You should never fear. 

Look at the sky—the east to the west.  I will forgive you no matter what you’ve done.**

Written on the sky, I see Your reply.  You say, ‘I stand with the meek.’ ***

(Used sepia tone effect here because this hillside reminded me of Tuscany!)

 So I wail for wisdom, and I cry for a cure.  

I need less of me, and I need You more and more.  ***

This is what I do to get away for a short time when my soul needs refreshment.  This is my 30-minute rejuvenator, reminder, resetter.

Where do you find retreat?

One of my girlfriends heads out on a solo hiking/camping weekend.  She is the outdoorsy type and finds God’s voice in the wind, the sun, the trees, the Creation.

Some of my favorite gals convene in locations where they can enjoy activities as well as spiritual retreat.  Sandy Cove Ministries is one of these places.

Perhaps you enjoy silent prayer at a retreat center such as a Jesuit Center (such as this one located in Wernersville, PA).  

Where do you find rest?  Perhaps I’ll see you on the road to the river someday.

* "Honesty" by Margaret Becker, (c) 1989 His Eye Music (SESAC) on Immigrant's Daughter (Sparrow Records)

** "Just Come In" by Margaret Becker, (c) 1989 His Eye Music (SESAC) on Immigrant's Daughter (Sparrow Records)

***"This Is My Passion" by Margaret Becker, (c) 1989 His Eye Music (SESAC) on Immigrant's Daughter (Sparrow Records)

The Lord taketh pleasure in his people (Psalm 149:4) – c.h. spurgeon

How comprehensive is the love of Jesus!

There is no part of his people's interests which he does not consider,
     and there is nothing which concerns their welfare which is not important to him.

Not merely does he think of you, believer, as an immortal being, but as a mortal being too….  

     “The very hairs of your head are all numbered.”

          “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in his way.” 

It were a sad thing for us if this mantle of love did not cover all our concerns, for what mischief might be wrought to us in that part of our business which did not come under our gracious Lord's inspection!

Believer,
rest assured
that the heart of Jesus cares about your meaner affairs.

The breadth of his tender love is such that you may resort to him in all matters;
     for in all your afflictions he is afflicted,
          and like as a father pitieth his children, so doth he pity you. 

The meanest interests of all his saints are all borne upon the broad bosom of the Son of God.

Oh, 

what a heart is his, 

that doth not merely comprehend the persons of his people,
but comprehends also the diverse and innumerable concerns of all those persons! 

Dost thou think, O Christian, that thou canst measure the love of Christ? Think of what his love has brought thee—
     justification,
         adoption,
               sanctification,
                   eternal life!

The riches of his goodness are unsearchable;
     thou shalt never be able to tell them out or even conceive them. 

Oh, the breadth of the love of Christ! Shall such a love as this have half our hearts?

O my soul, tune thy harp to a glad song of thanksgiving!

Go to thy rest rejoicing,
     for thou art no desolate wanderer,
          but a beloved child, 
     watched over,
          cared for, supplied,
               and defended by thy Lord.

For the Lord takes delight in His people. 
Psalm 149:4

When God waits

When God waits until what seems to be the last possible moment to sweep in and save the day….

Hold on right there, sister. 

God isn’t waiting.  He is eternal and He exists outside of time—time holds no meaning for Him, so technically He is not waiting at all.

He is existing.

He is orchestrating.

He is blessing His creation.

He is sovereignly ruling.

He is delighting in our worship.

He is doing many, many, many unfathomable things.

But, but, but…

…He is not waiting.

We could have an amazingly complex discussion about this beautiful, barely comprehensible truth—just like the ones I once enjoyed in my Bible college theology classes, and then we would be here all day and into the night marveling over Our Great God. 

So let’s just leave it at this for now: 

God does not "wait" to come to our aid, but He does understand our reliance on the concept of time and that, to us, it often appears His intricately orchestrated plans seem to come to pass just as we’re about to give up hope that there even is a plan for our little lives.

But remember this:

These plans of God span all of eternity—and we make our appearance on the stage at our appointed time and for our ordained purpose.  We’re woven into the tapestraic threads that join our roles in redemption with those of the saints and sinners of old and of those yet to come.

During this period when God seems slow to appear on our scene, do we find our place in our waiting?

Perhaps we are being prepared for the next step…or for a leap that is still 10 or 20 or 173 steps away.

Perhaps this is a time to learn faith or faithfulness,

     trust or trustworthiness,

          grace or graciousness.

Perhaps we are called to exhibit burning obedience despite the present dimness of the revelation.

Perhaps we are simply asked to rest—stop striving and fear not, little lamb—and be content in this moment.

Perhaps it is a combination of these or not any of these at all.  Perhaps the underlying purpose may change as we continue to press on toward the goal and seek first His Kingdom.

We are all at different waystations on our journeys toward Christlikeness, and we’re all yet looking forward to the full realization of the Kingdom of God.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps….

Ultimately, we know that this season of waiting,

     of watching,

          of hoping,

               of longing

      is for our good

                    and for His glory.

How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God (Psalm 139:17) – c.h. spurgeon

God is always thinking upon us,
     never turns aside his mind from us,
          has us always before his eyes;
and this is precisely as we would have it, for it would be dreadful to exist
          for a moment
beyond the observation of our heavenly Father.

His thoughts are always
tender,
loving,
wise,
prudent,
far-reaching,
and they bring to us countless benefits: hence it is a choice delight to remember them.

The Lord always did think upon his people:
     hence their election and the covenant of grace by which their salvation is secured;
he always will think upon them:
     hence their final perseverance by which they shall be brought safely to their final rest. 

In all our wanderings
     the watchful glance of the Eternal Watcher
          is evermore fixed upon us—we never roam beyond the Shepherd's eye.
In our sorrows
     he observes us incessantly,
          and not a pang escapes him;
in our toils he marks all our weariness,
     and writes in his book all the struggles of his faithful ones.

These thoughts of the Lord encompass us in all our paths….
     Not a nerve or tissue, valve or vessel, of our bodily organization is uncared for;
          all the littles of our little world are thought upon by the great God. 

Dear reader, is this precious to you? then hold to it….

The Lord liveth and thinketh upon us, 

     this is a truth far too precious for us to be lightly robbed of it….

If the Lord thinketh upon us,
     all is well,
          and we may rejoice evermore.

How precious to me are your thoughts, God!  How vast is the sum of them!Psalm 139:17

Mama

Mama.  I have one of these, and I love her immeasurably.  But…I’ll get to that in a moment.

I have been considering other women who have been mothers to me and helped to shape my life in different ways.  May I introduce a few of them to you?

Mary 

When I was six, my dad got a job in another city.  During the work week, he boarded with Mary Brown, an elderly lady who lived in a little post-war brick home on the East Side of that city.  Her husband, Charlie, was in a nursing home, and I think she needed the income a boarder would bring.  Eventually, the rest of my family moved in with Mary until we bought our home in the new city.  That dear little lady put up with a family of four (including two rambunctious kids) in her two-bedroom, one-bathroom home for nearly a year.  She was strict (being 80, she was more than a little old-school), but we knew she loved us.

Not too long after we moved in, she just became our grandma.  Both of my grandmothers and all of Mary’s grandchildren lived far away, so she easily became part of our family during the four years that we all lived in that city.  When she moved to Nova Scotia to live with her son and his family, I learned that this meant no more jello salads containing vegetables and cream cheese, no more fresh gingerbread, no more admonitions that “This is not a rumpus room!” and no more stories about what it was like to grow up at the turn of the last century. 

Mary Irene Brown has long since gone Home to be with the Lord, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she visited with my dad every now and again just to remind him to wear his galoshes…for old times’ sake.

Lisa Ann 

I took a babysitting job for the Henderson family when I was a teenager.  Their little girls were 21 months old and three months old at the time and both as cute as buttons.  Lisa Ann worked from home, but her job kept her from being able to supervise the girls, so I enjoyed playing with and caring for them during her workday. 

Lisa Ann taught me how to make a bottle, efficiently change a diaper, read books in a way that engaged a toddler’s learning capacity, make the perfect ham and cheese sandwich (it really is all in the mayo), plan and sew a simple (though large!) quilt, and truly appreciate the music of Petra and Margaret Becker. 

Side note:  Those little girls are both college-aged now.

Esther 

When I was in Bible college, I met Esther’s husband, Bill Lewis.  He was an older student taking courses to finish his degree while I was an undergrad.  He found out that I was the editor of our student newspaper, so he would send me devotionals that he had written for inclusion in each issue.  They weren’t fancy, but they were full of truth.  Over time, he let me know that while he and his wife had never been blessed with their own children, they had taken me into their hearts as if I were their own daughter.

 

We kept in touch after my graduation—usually by email since they lived a couple of hours away from my home.  Both Esther and Bill prayed and prayed for my family and for me.  I am sure that I was blessed and protected many times by their intercession for me.

Bill went Home to be with the Lord a couple of years ago, but Esther still prays and prays for me.  It was an honor for me to sit with Esther at Bill’s funeral.  We don’t talk or visit as often as I would like.  I am certain, however, that the Lord has bountiful heavenly rewards for Esther and Bill because of the way they loved and prayed for me over the years.       

Karen 

I have a sweet friend who is a friend to many.  She found her calling in music ministry, and she has faithfully served the Lord as a gospel singer for over thirty years.  I’ve loved her music and her testimony for at least half of those years.  The Truth in her music helped to keep me on the narrow way when I was an impressionable teenager.  She’s found great success in her career, yet she remains “real.”

A few years ago, she sat at her dining room table and gave me sound counsel.  Let me set the stage:  Karen Peck Gooch and her group host a “homecoming” concert on her family’s property in Georgia each year.  These events are a pretty big deal in Gospel music, and it takes months of hard work to pull them off well.

On this particular day, Karen had worked a full day to set up for the concerts, had sung for a couple of hours in the sweltering July-in-Georgia humidity, had talked graciously with countless folks among the hundreds gathered for the concert at the field down the hill from her house, and was now hosting an informal meal for several dozen friends, employees and family members in her home.  Oh, and it was 2:30 or 3:00 in the morning.

Karen sat down with my friend Stacy and me at her dining room table and offered a bit of simple, Godly advice to us about caring for our husbands and children…though Stacy was married (I was not), neither one of us had children at the time.  I guess she felt led to help form a firm foundation for our futures.  She encouraged us to speak and act with respect and preference toward our husbands, knowing that this is the Lord’s best plan for marriages.  She also implored us to be very careful about the concepts and words we speak over and into our children—to be sure to speak Life and Truth to them.  Karen may not remember this conversation from 2005, but I have carried it with me to this day.    

NanNan, Grammy Lucy, and Grammy Peggy 

My great-grandmother (“NanNan”) and my grandmothers Lucy and Peggy each played a significant role in the Christian woman I have become.  I never met my NanNan—she went Home a few years before I was born.  She helped to raise my mom and her siblings, and she was a woman of great faith and patience.  She was quite the prayer warrior and was known to pray for the generations to come, and I know that means she prayed for me and my salvation long before I was created.        

My dad’s mother, Lucy, lived overseas with my aunt’s family for several years when I was growing up.  I rarely saw her until I was a teenager and she moved stateside.  However, she made sure to stay in close touch by way of letters and phone calls (this was before the age of email and Skype).  When she would visit us every couple of years, it was quite like she had never been away.  She enjoyed life, though much of her life had been difficult.  Always up for a card game with the grandkids or a rousing piano rendition of favorite hymns or Christmas carols, she approached being a grandma with passion and gusto.  

After her stroke (during my college years), she was bedridden and unable to speak.  Later I learned from my uncle that even at this time she kept up her devotional practices of reading Scripture daily (or having it read to her) and of praying specially for her family and friends each day.  Shortly before she went Home, she regained enough facility to play the piano with her left hand.  I was gifted with the joy of playing our favorite hymns with her—she played the tenor and bass lines from memory, and I added the alto and soprano lines with my right hand.  I believe when I get to heaven and hear someone whistling the tenor line of a hymn of praise to the Lamb, I’ll find her, eyes twinkling, not too far from me.

My mom’s mom, Peggy, was a mystery to me for most of my life.  She and my mother were not very close over the years, and geographically we lived quite a ways from each other, which seemed to underscore the emotional distance.  When my dad was ill, however, she really shone.  She had finally received the health care she desperately needed and had reconnected with the Lord, which allowed her to come to terms with many of the difficulties that had overshadowed her life up to this time, so she was able to be supportive while we navigated the obstacles that are cancer and death.  

It wasn’t until I myself dealt with what a whacked-out thyroid can do to a woman that I understood her and her trials better.  I had a supportive family and twenty-first century medicine to help me with my imbalance, both blessings she did not have when she needed them.  She went Home about a year after my dad, but what a precious couple of years we had with her!  I know that when the Lord called for her, she went Home shouting the name of Jesus.  My guess is the angels had a hard time keeping up with her as they led her through the pearly gates.

Mama  

How do you condense thirty-two years of a mother’s patience, kindness, sacrifice, prayers, faith, and love into a few sentences?  I don’t think it’s possible.  

My mama is my best friend.  She has been for years, even when I was thirteen and convinced that she was crazy (and I was normal).  We are so very different, but there are times that we think alike, which is—just keeping it real here—comforting and frightening at the same time.  I often tell her that God could not have given me a better mother than she.  I truly believe that. 

We talk and drink coffee and laugh and cry and fuss and pray and shop and vacation together. 

More importantly, she points me to the Lord every day.  Who else does that for me? 

Anyone who knows me well knows that my mama is awesome—partly because I tell them so and partly because they usually get to meet her before too long.  In general, they agree with my assessment…which is further proof that my mama is awesome.  (I wonder if awesomeness is hereditary.  If it is, I hope I got at least some of it and it didn’t all go to my little brother.) 

So, Mama, happy Mother’s Day to you…and to all of the other mamas who have spoken Life and Truth into me.           

“Her children arise and call her blessed….” 

Proverbs 31:28