Happy Happy Joy Joy

Saw a TV program last week, and on it two people were going on and on about how fantastic their life was – all because they know Jesus. “Glorious,” they said. “So wonderful”. I think it was a lie.

Let’s cut out the sales and tell the truth. Life with Jesus is hard. It’s difficult, and you get stepped on. It isn’t a permanent happiness-fest. It’s full of things I don’t want to do and people I don’t want to put up with, and struggles I don’t want to have. And I don’t float about on a cloud of happiness all day, or live enveloped in a big ol’ God/bear hug.

Frankly, it stinks. But is knowing Jesus worth it? Oh, yes. Not because it makes me happy, but because Jesus is all that I long for, and he is rescuing me from myself.

Waiting

O Father and Friend, I am waiting for you.  I’ve somehow got myself into this mess, but You’ll have to get me out, because I don’t know even what’s wrong.  I’ve tried and tried to figure things out, but I’m more mixed up now than ever, and if You don’t help me, I’m only going to get myself wedged deeper into this corner.  Help me, please.

Loved

“During those many days the king of Egypt died, and the people of Israel groaned because of their slavery and cried out for help.  Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God.  And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel – and God knew.”

(Exodus 2:23-25)

Aftermath

O Lover of my soul, You know all of me, but I will lay my complaint before You. Judge for me. It’s not the hurt that destroys me, but the weakness. What shall I do unless You give me Your strength?

Slay me, then, but let it be a full death. Let Christ live in me. I accept his hurt, but this weakness is not of Christ – I give it to you. Look on me. Give me Your hand. Like Peter, I sink in these waves! Have mercy on me. You are enough, but I am not.

I am your responsibility, O Creator. I run to You.

To the Mountain, with Isaac

And shall I pray Thee change Thy will, my Father,
Until it be according unto mine?
But, no, Lord, no, that never shall be, rather
I pray Thee blend my human will with Thine.

I pray Thee hush the hurrying, eager longing,
I pray Thee soothe the pangs of keen desire -
See in my quiet places, wishes thronging -
Forbid them, Lord, purge, though it be with fire.

And work in me to will and do Thy pleasure
Let all within me, peaceful, reconciled,
Tarry content my Well-Beloved’s leisure,
At last, at last, even as a weaned child.

-Amy  Carmichael

Dear, lovely God, again I come to You for rest and help.  I come crying and weary, and I hear your question – the same question Bartimaeus heard from You – “What wilt thou?”

It makes me pause, that question.  Of course, I want you to make it all better – make the pain go away, restore all the loss, renew my happiness… Or do I?  Why have you given me this pain in the first place?  All that I receive comes only at Your consent.  You have weighed this burden, measured it in Your own hand.  And you are Good – this I have so experienced that I can have no doubt.  Can it be that this hurt is part of Your gift to me, Giver of Good?  Can this be the answer to my heart’s deep cry?  Is this the death that must come to me if Christ would live in me?

O God, my heart is toward You.  I turn my will to You, and bow myself to the dust before You.  There is a part of me yet to be conquered by You, but I open the door to You.  Come in and put to death what rebels against You, against Love.  Like Abraham, I have cherished my Isaac.  I have wanted him for myself, but Your heart is for the world.  I have desired too little.  Therefore, take my heart’s darling and my hope.  You have desired to give me not Isaac alone, but in Isaac, a blessing like the stars.

I will still cry before You, O Man of Sorrows – for You alone know the full weight of denied longing; of nature thwarted.  But I don’t ask You to take away my crying.  I no longer lay before You even my heart’s deep desire, for You have heard me and seen me.  This is the way You have answered me, and I will thank You even as I cry.  Only give me wisdom to know what I should do, and cause the fruit of Your Spirit to grow in me.  Console me with Your great heart.  In spite of my often falling, O Father, bring about Your Good.  I am Yours.

Will and a Waning

Love, the emotion, wilts under the constant drizzle of rain in my soul. As it recedes, bitter weeds rise up thorny-thick to take its place, and I fear the foothold of a broad wasteland encroaching.

The privilege of receiving is a loss for which there is consolation, but what will comfort the heart barred from giving? Only He who is Love can heal such a wound. It is not love, but that imposter self-love, that curls around and attacks the giver when it meets with frustration. Oh, that He might dig carefully to uproot self-love without killing Love – or else let it grow, but let Love grow better, that it be not choked by that deadly weed.

I want to run and hide, far away from the ones to whom I have given such awful power to hurt. I long to fence myself in, to wrap myself and turn my face away from their slight notice. Pride, like a lion, lunges within me, and resentment wraps about my heart like a long, cool snake. I fear them as much as I do the keen cut of rejection, but how to mount a defense against an enemy within?

How to control emotion, without simply stifling it? How to let it shriek, without giving any place to its crying? How to maintain feeling, and yet not give feeling power?

Father, I choose Love, aside from all emotion. The less I feel, the more sure is my choice, for it is without prejudice. But I am unable to love on my own. I can only choose You, and let You love me, and through me. I am weak and weary, yet again. Come and lay your hand upon my heart, and though it be dull of all emotion, let bitterness take no root in it. If I cannot feel, then let me see beyond the rough curtain of my sense, and know what is though I cannot touch. Speak to me. Be to me all that I am not. Oh, Your love is not this brittle, creaking reed.

Lord, if you stay your hand, I am lost. If I am to be changed, it must be by You. I cannot do – I can only will. Though I fear the cost, I know I can trust You. Change me!

Toward Jerusalem…

O Thou who art my quietness, my deep repose,
My rest from strife of tongues, my holy hill -
Fair is Thy pavilion, where I hold me still…

- Amy Carmichael

The Pearl of Great Price

There is a strange, burning consolation in facing the loss of the heart’s darling, to find that there is something dearer yet. Like violets that spring up and twine themselves around the weeds, I find with surprise that hope – the hope of learning the Eternal Heart – grows still in my little garden. He who Is before all things speaks, and though his words cut me sore, I find peace as I bow before Him from whom I am come and to whom I go.

He is the Pearl of great price. When all that I have to lose and all that I hope to gain is counted up and sifted together, He is dearer still. And Him I can never, never lose. My place is at His feet.

Holy, Holy, Holy

In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the LORD sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.
Above it stood the seraphim: each one had six wings; with twain he covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he did fly.
And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the LORD of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.
And the posts of the door moved at the voice of him that cried, and the house was filled with smoke.
Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts.
(Isaiah 6:1-5)

What can I do but bow myself before such a God? I will cry with the Seraphim, Holy, holy, holy!

Up Against a Holy God

Disappointment, dread, loneliness, and horror have combined themselves into one awful concoction that whirls and bubbles in my stomach and rises into my throat. i didn’t imagine anything like this. And I am afraid, more afraid than I have been in a very long, long time. Suddenly I am weak and lost and wondering if possibly I have come the wrong way. I want to throw up.

I am crushed against two immoveable truths: It is the absolute right of the Eternal God to choose as he will for me; and whatever he chooses for me is for my good. I may cry and plead and beat my fists against those as I will, but they will not be altered or denied. I am the one who must change.

O Great God of the Universe, I bow before You. I am brought low to the dust. I cannot plead with you, although you are my Father. You have set my course, and it is best. It cannot be changed, though I cry. You must be silent to me, or else be and give less than You have promised. One comfort have I, and one alone: that there is One in Your presence, One of You, who is touched with my hurts and weaknesses. He too, was alone – abandoned both by those He gave himself for, and by His God. And though I be weak and cold and alone, I have never been abandoned by my God. When I am too lost to feel Your heart beating warm and strong, then I know Your cold, starry, clearness, and Your vast immutability.

My heart is broken. I cannot feel. I cannot trust. I can only know, as a fact, that God is, and that God is good.

I am laid waste. I have nowhere to turn. The One who has given me this rich hurt is the One who loves me best. I can neither understand nor blame. I can only sit here in shock and in pain and wonder.

Eternal God, unchanging, mysterious and unknown
Your boundless love unfailing grace and mercy shown
Bright seraphim in ceaseless flight around your glorious throne
They raise their voices day and night in praise to you alone

Hallelujah! Glory be to our great God!
Hallelujah! Glory be to our great God!