Song: Heart of the Wood

Trusting God

Walking with Him, it seems as though afflictions increase. Each to each, though--for some, "light afflictions" may constitute ease to others, while of others, "light afflictions" would drive to immediate catatonia. And yet, He fashions the clay for its use.

Or to borrow the metaphor of a friend, He carves the wood masterfully--shaving bits and pieces, and sometimes rending vast swathes at once, perhaps in seemingly rapid succession. To the very heart of the wood, He carves deeply. Masterfully, always.

Again and again, lately, I've heard people reference that He doesn't give us more than we can handle. But this just isn't so. He doesn't allow us to be tempted beyond that which we can bear, is the actual case. But allows, always, means of escape. Submitting to Him, moreover. 

It's not contradictory to His love of us that He allows great suffering. We're refined by fire, by the trials of affliction (Zechariah 13:9). We're chosen in the fires of our affliction. One even wrote he had gone astray before being afflicted. We learn deeply of Him in times of trial. And we learn deeply of Him through the trials of others, too: Even as through the trials of Joseph, of Daniel, of so many who have gone before us.

Even of our own Lord, Jesus. (1 Peter 2:21)

We overcome through Him. Because He overcame. Likewise, we overcome in like manner as He overcame: He submitted to the will of the Father, even unto death. Even as serving and loving His betrayer, up to the end--washing His feet, and permitting Himself betrayed by a kiss of greeting.

So if we're to follow Him--and follow those who have followed Him as Paul called us to do, of himself also--we know we are to be counted as sheep for the slaughter, all the day long, yet while knowing that by such a course of obedience even unto death we are overcomers. Through Christ. Who has gone before us, that we may follow.

Not in our own strength. To thusly forsake self and deny self is beyond human ability, apart from God's grace and provision--to be able to surrender everything dearest to us, as unto Him and for His sake... We just can't. But He gives and He takes away. And our lot is to be concerned with following Him, whatever the cost. Counting all costs, continually surrendering everything to Him, all the while.

He requires the impossible. Because He alone can accomplish the requirements set before us, then He is our sole sufficiency. His glory is revealed through this. And as we wane, He waxes. Our incapacitation, then, is unto unfathomed depths of His provision. Salvation from the outset is impossible, why would anything subsequent differ? Like as the Galatians wanted to be able to continue the work He began in their own strength, we often want to be able to, as well. But that's not the way. Jesus is the way. Abiding in Him. He said that apart from Him we can do nothing.

Again and again, He's required the impossible. Again and again, I've naysaid and gainsaid, pleaded and begged, and lamented and grieved. And again and again, in circumstances most dear to me, He has bid me wait upon Him, has turned my heart to submission, and has led. And He has many times not answered, responded, or intervened in ways I've deeply longed for, even believing such to be in accord with His express will. But though He hasn't intervened as I've pleaded, I've experienced and seen His provision. I've experienced and seen His love made manifest. I've many times been veritably carried by Him--moment by moment--of times when I've been abjectly felled by disillusionment, grief, despair, and pain severe as to incapacitate thought, speech, observation, ability to even move so to attempt to guard my own steps by any self-aware measure. He hasn't failed me. Not even when I've so deeply decried the injustice and tragedy of particular instances as nearly crying out against Him, even...

He hasn't often provided or intervened in ways I've wanted, but He has continually given of Himself, even as intervening per such alternate, unforeseen and inconceivable means as has oft been His wont. And He has taught me of His nature. Even as to trust in His wisdom and goodness and love--no matter any devastation and loss (even like as losing self, unto death, and of losing all things familiar, all means of self-sustenance, and also of losing loved ones in so many ways grievous, shocking, devastating, and sometime unretractable). Losing all things, by turn, all my life--but gaining Christ, all the more. Ever leading then--no matter the pain lingering, the despair and grief--to still and increasingly trust Him, regardless circumstances.

Knowing with increasing and increasingly unwavering certainty that He is kind.

Yet I've multiple times mistaken His kindness to mean He'll provide what to me seems most expedient and right and good. Especially in circumstances where pain and loss and injustice and wrong understanding abounds, I've expected Him to show Himself strong on my behalf and on behalf of those whom He loves, for the sake of His love, or even for the sake of His name--as to deliver and heal and right wrongs and protect in ways which would seem obvious to me as having done so, with immediacy upon being asked.

But He usually hasn't done as I would think best, in ways I would think best, with any sort of immediacy. Instead, He has again and again allowed me to see glimpses of the provisions which He nonetheless is making and has made. Provisions which yet fall short of my immediate desires and expectations, but which constitute and evidence His active intervention, nonetheless. And this is a great kindness and grace toward me, nonetheless--even just to be permitted and given such glimpses.
Gratefully received. And sometimes past the point of submitting to His will, whatever His will is.

He has afforded those moments as a deep, unwarranted kindness. Such that rather than remaining in a mire of despair regarding circumstances (despite surrendering to His will)--sometimes feeling as though He were standing deaf to my pleas for mercy--those glimpses have afforded comforting reminders that He is still actively interceding and intervening. Even if not in the ways I ask and absolutely feel unable to survive without receiving. 

He comforts despite my relative faithlessness, in other words. Despite my continual shortsightedness in expecting things could or can only be resolved one particular or immediate or apparent way in order to be well.

All in all, He continues to comprehensively reveal there is a better way. His way. He reveals this by allowing depths of insight into who and how He is: He comforts by reminding that He is perfect in wisdom and merciful in His disciplines, and by thus reminding me He doesn't allow or ordain suffering arbitrarily. This is so especially needful when confronted with any of utmost depths of suffering and injustice abounding in all this fallen, broken world which yet cries out for redemption to be made full.

In knowing Him and remembering Him, I know that I don't have to know or understand specifics of why things are the way they are. I still yearn to understand why He would permit so much grief, when His will is that everyone would be saved. But as He gives me understanding of Himself, instead, I'm quieted and sustained and preserved--comforted. Though griefs remain, His love looms larger. And though pains persist, His provision is more apparent per its requirement and consistency even just to function...when I'm otherwise felled.

Until, of such things, everything hones by incapacitation to a single point of focus. Upon Him, in the midst of all else which rages and torments. A point of abject peace, though the maelstrom rages on. Without the strength even to look to Him He yet lifts my head. Again and again. So when the battle within and without is too severe for anything except absolute loss of sanity and even despair of life, He pulls me into His arms in the midst of the fire. And recovers me.

I cannot do the things He requires. I cannot even want to do the things. But I know what He requires, as He reveals each step. And of each step, foremost requirement is thus a submission to Himself. And yet He works out every bit of this. Though, still--each to each.

He will have to guide. There's nothing else.

Whatever comes or goes.

And as much as Joseph was so many times tried--and to such lengths and by such varied means--his story is preserved as a testament to God's goodness and kindness and faithfulness, no matter the depths and seeming hopelessness of injustice even per such horrors as abject abuse, malicious rejection, unfounded suspicion, and overt malfeasance. He did not sit idly, but walked humbly with His God all the while. So his defender and justifier was ultimately God, Himself--this, not just evident during Joseph's own life, but given for all time to the edification of the saints and unto revelation of the glory of the grace of God.

That doesn't say to me that I should expect God to likewise justify me or any one of us who are His during our own lifetimes. But it does give me certainty that He can do so and sometimes does, while being reminded that even if He chose not to do so He's no less good, no less gracious, no less merciful, no less just, and no less loving--no less who He is, as my God and my Father--whether He ordains such justification unto His good purposes in the here and now or in the hereafter.

It's not His justice nor His mercy nor His justification nor His provision in which I ultimately trust, it's in God, Himself--while hoping of all which He is, trusting His wisdom and providential will as unto whichsoever circumstances and effects He ordains as best suited to needs (which are beyond my any-present knowledge, actually--but He knows our needs and is intimately concerned with them).

Alternately, I've been sorely tempted to attempt to manufacture peace and wellness of my own designs, rather than to continue to wait on Him in the midst of particular griefs. Sorely tempted, in various circumstances. And I've given in to temptations to plead my cause with others, even, numerous times--somewhat seeking justification or recompense which can only come from Him, moreover. But pain is not lessened by being acknowledged, although somehow being acknowledged as valid can allay temptations toward bitterness, so may provide comfort of another sort. Or perhaps only by being brought to light, as unto prayerful discussion and redirection to Christ.

Regardless, being allowed to grieve is a comfort--it's not necessary that anyone understand. I don't even understand at present, quite frankly--just makes for all the more difficulty in submitting to the Lord's will, somehow. A deeper need for surrender, as though if it all just made sense, then perhaps I could otherwise dismiss the pain and the difficulty rather than enduring. But, really, nothing makes sense right now...apart from remembering Christ, that is:

Remembering Him and what He did for me and experiencing what He's doing now (though that, too, I don't understand except to be comforted and led to trust Him, whatever comes). That's all I have, ultimately. It's all any of us has, realistically. And whatever bits and pieces He affords us for moments at a time: Moments of blessed fellowship and love and service and hope and joy and His peace which runs deeper, still. These, He affords at times. His Presence is so steady a balm. And He is so kind to redirect to Himself, continually, as unto His peace and love...comforts, even as to grieve.

And I wonder what it's like for brothers and sisters in places where it's veritably a mortal crime to even speak His name with reverence.

My Utmost for His Highest: 7/13 & 7/14

The Price Of Vision

In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw also the Lord. — Isaiah 6:1 Our soul’s history with God is frequently the history of the “passing of the hero.” Over and over again God has to remove our friends in order to bring Himself in their place, and that is where we faint and fail and get discouraged. Take it personally: In the year that the one who stood to me for all that God was, died — I gave up everything? I became ill? I got disheartened? or — I saw the Lord? My vision of God depends upon the state of my character. Character determines revelation. Before I can say “I saw also the Lord,” there must be something corresponding to God in my character. Until I am born again and begin to see the Kingdom of God, I see along the line of my prejudices only; I need the surgical operation of external events and an internal purification. It must be God first, God second, and God third, until the life is faced steadily with God and no one else is of any account whatever. “In all the world there is none but thee, my God, there is none but thee.” Keep paying the price. Let God see that you are willing to live up to the vision.

Donate The Account With Persecution

But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. — Matthew 5:39 These verses reveal the humiliation of being a Christian. Naturally, if a man does not hit back, it is because he is a coward; but spiritually if a man does not hit back, it is a manifestation of the Son of God in him. When you are insulted, you must not only not resent it, but make it an occasion to exhibit the Son of God. You cannot imitate the disposition of Jesus; it is either there or it is not. To the saint personal insult becomes the occasion of revealing the incredible sweetness of the Lord Jesus. The teaching of the Sermon on the Mount is not — Do your duty, but — Do what is not your duty. It is not your duty to go the second mile, to turn the other cheek, but Jesus says if we are His disciples we shall always do these things. There will be no spirit of — “Oh, well, I cannot do any more, I have been so misrepresented and misunderstood.” Every time I insist upon my rights, I hurt the Son of God; whereas I can prevent Jesus from being hurt if I take the blow myself. That is the meaning of filling up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ. The disciple realises that it is his Lord’s honour that is at stake in his life, not his own honour. Never look for right in the other man, but never cease to be right yourself. We are always looking for justice; the teaching of the Sermon on the Mount is — Never look for justice, but never cease to give it.

Sanctified Through Agony and Confession

Very dark place, the last few days. Drifting into bitterness, toward resentment, awash in suspicions which reek of these things. It's not possible to give into these type things without actively turning away from the Lord. And that unleashes and makes room for all sorts of evil.

Hard-heartedness is so insidious, sneaks up so slyly while pain is prevalent. As put by a friend, tonight, it's a longing to sate the pain for a while which often leads toward stumbling. Rather than to bear through by pressing into the Lord.

I don't think anyone likes pain. Not really, at least. Those who develop a "taste" for pain are instead seeking to overcome the aversion to it by asserting control over it--enduring doses which are entered willingly, as an attempt to assert dominance over that which otherwise rules them. Like I used to do, regarding fear. Defying it on my terms--not quite an adrenaline junkie, but going out of my way to incite terror so as to willfully defy it. Flouting its hold on me, per my own estimation. All the while still no more in control of my aversion to fear nor my subjectivity to it than before.

The Lord was very gracious to me. Still is. But I see such depths of mercy in His preserving me despite how openly I courted death. Even entreated it, blatantly--attempted to cause it, numerous times. To defy fear of it, in part, by taking control. He did not permit me to do so. And ultimately, when I fell of a balcony at the end of 2006 (which was not intentional), He confronted me forthright with the truth: I did not want to die, I wanted to live...and I had no control over life or death, nor even control over the quality of my life. He brought me to see, while I was falling, that I couldn't even know nor expect whether I would be crippled--I had no control over anything to come...though He does. And in light of the reality of His absolutely omnipotence and my abject impotence, I surrendered up my all to His will, whatever His will. And had peace, while still falling. And blacked out. And there was no pain until the next day, noted while going in and out of consciousness in the ER (there were no beds in the hospital ICU, none in the hospital...Elmwood, by New Orleans).

He was so gracious in confronting me with the truth. And in preserving my life. And in correcting the worst of the physical trauma (TBI, inclusive). And in directing me through rehabilitation.

He shielded me from so much. Even in the midst of what was such trauma as did effectively kill me twice--my body shut down twice: initially upon impact, then again sometime after paramedics arrived. The paramedics broke an iron, barred gate to get to me--life in the French Quarter, as it were. No small feat and surely took time, is all. Given the one who had initially resuscitated me had perhaps not returned after running to phone for emergency medical assistance--no cell phone, as it were.

Coup-contrecoup, multiple contusions. And He could have let that be the end of me. Or He could have let me be paralyzed. Or He could have let it be such that word recall never regained consistency, could have let it be such that ordinal sequencing never returned, could have allowed it such that reading never rehabilitated, nor math. So many things. But He spared me. He rehabilitated me. I had no physical therapy, only an overwhelming sense of peace and an inexplicable compulsion to learn sudoku and read. All of which is inexplicable (apart from God being who He is, that is), given the continued headache the two weeks post-accident when books were randomly required, quickly grabbed, and attained.

I couldn't even bear to be awake long enough to read them for...I don't know how much longer it was, after acquiring. But He directed me and kept me.

Even though I ceased honoring Him the moment I regained consciousness. And turned wholly against Him, again, the moment I was well enough to sit up for extended periods. Despite that, He was still leading me, even then--pressing me into the Sudoku and holding the terror of realizing my inability to understand numbers subject to the peace which compelled me to continue counting, continue working, continue pressing on. And same, of the terror of learning I was unable to understand the written word. And unable to think clearly as to speak clearly. Terror, but held entirely under control of the peace of His presence. Whose presence I know now.

But after He got me to the point where I could function again, I went right back to everything which had been killing me. And things became so much darker. I didn't even reflect on how He'd spared me. Didn't even reflect on how incomprehensible it was to have rehabilitation. No, just my own will to continue having my way with life--that's all that mattered to me. I still scoffed at God--despised Him, my Jesus. My Savior, so many times over. Constant.

But He didn't turn me away. He let me, instead, face the reality of my circumstances. He let me realize that without His preserving influence, death would take me. And as He started to reveal that increasingly clearly, I started to know fear, in truth. And eventually, He was so gracious as to allow me to come to a point of great peril, including public shame of making apparent the depravity of my ways...such that I had no place left to hide from the truth: Jesus is the only one who can preserve our lives. He is the only one who can save us, even from ourselves.

It's been a long road, already. Many dangers, toils, and snares. But He's preserved me. And He preserves me, even now. Even in the midst of pain and the disgrace of open rejection and denial. He will lead me in how to lay this down, too.

If He can bring a person to surrendering gratefully, humbly to accepting and wanting His will to be done, while in the process of falling to their death from a balcony...and hold them in peace and rehabilitate them, Himself, over course of agonizing and terror-filled months of otherwise uncertainty thereafter...He can and will do whatever it takes to keep any one of us, here and now, and deliver us to want, love, and require His will rather than our own.

It just seems that the longer I walk with Him (three years is such a short time, in actuality), the more blatant becomes the requirement for resting in my knowledge of the truth of who He is during more extensive periods of pain and uncertainty and impossibility. Not ordained as some weird sort of proclivity toward my suffering, but ordained as a means of reconciling increasingly to right relationship with Himself: Refining as silver, tried as gold is tried. In the fire and under pressures. Refining faith, which is valuable beyond measure.

Those first instances, though, when first coming to Him..
...so totally oblivious to who He is--even the barest and briefest of difficulties (like being initially kind of homeless for a few months, sleeping on a mattress I rented in a woman's kitchen) were beyond my ability to fathom. I was bereft of what to do, but so overwhelmed by everything going on that I took it entirely for granted that things were okay despite being confusing. But that wasn't trusting Him. I just assumed things were okay and were going to be okay because they'd always been okay, no matter how utterly trying or impossible (like, falling off a balcony and not being able to read?--that was okay...so then all things were likewise "okay"). No reference to knowing or trusting God, really, in other words.

Or, actually, there was slight reference to trusting Him--begun while living in the kitchen: not questioning circumstances, still, but questioning why I couldn't go and find other accommodations: The situation was uncomfortable, very painful, humiliating, and just generally fearful and difficult. And He'd given me ample financial means at that point to be able to get something else. But I had no peace with getting another apartment. And every time I tried looking at places, it rang clarion in my mind, "Wait." And I kept gravitating to the verse about the Son of Man having no place to lay His head--which many times caused resentment to arise in my heart...until finally, I surrendered the  expectation to always have a place of my own to His will. And accepted His call to wait. And accepted what was given, though it made no sense still. In that capacity, I trusted Him.

But the whole thing wasn't as blind as things, now, physically speaking. Physically speaking, back then there were ample means on all sides, and possibilities screaming at me from various corners: All so many things that could be pursued or not. All so many ways to continue with life, as known. Though, instead, being called to wait. But not from a position or situation of impossibility. Not in a situation with utter agony arising upon and attending every thought, every breath, every movement, while impossibility hemmed in on all fronts.

At that instance, I was not called to wait and trust and love and hope in and praise Him in the midst of Joseph's slavery, in the midst of Abraham's walk up that mountain with Isaac, in the midst of Noah's 50th year of ark building, in the midst of Isaiah's being sawn asunder, in the midst of Jeremiah's descent into and desertion in the well, in the midst of Daniel's decades of service in a foreign and hostile land nor in the midst of his being thrown in with the lions. Not called to trust Him and love Him with all my heart while being walked into a fiery furnace, while witnessing my jailers perish as we approach--as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego did. Not loving Him and wholeheartedly resting in His Word to me in the midst of the disgrace of Joseph's continued betrothal (which is like unto marriage, itself) to a woman found with child, nor in the midst of Mary's wholly unjust public ostracism and despising, once found with child out of wedlock.

To love and praise Him in the midst of all these is freedom. Freedom from the fear of death and of man. Freedom to walk in love and humility before a perfectly good, perfectly wise, perfectly loving Heavenly Father, and freedom to likewise love and show mercy to all those around us.

Freedom such as Jesus had--despising the shame and the pain of crucifixion because of his absolute faith in the Father who sent Him, thus also because of what reward He knew was to come: Us, all of us, whom He loves.

And because He did walk in perfect faith, even unto death--and what greater impossibility do we face than this, and yet He resurrected?...so what greater hope could we have than knowing our direst foe, the deepest impossibility has been and is overcome?--because of who He is and what He's done, He can and does lead us to greater and greater depths of such a faith, too.

Faith isn't blind. It knows Him in whom it rests. And that is the measure of faith: the measure of knowledge and trust in Him in whom faith rests. So He does, for me at least (and to the nation of Israel, as His Word attests), reveal Himself most blatantly per miraculous intervention in situations which are otherwise utterly and wholly impossible. When there's absolutely no possibility of attributing success or survival or deliverance to anything else...He manifestly reveals Himself as strong and sure and true and faithful.

Along which lines, He allows for the testing of our faith. To trust Him--blind to circumstances and developments. Blind to everything except the knowledge of who He is and what He is capable of (instead of being turned away from Him: unto wholehearted despair, unto grief allowed passage toward bitterness, and of any manner likewise reverting to self-will and private understanding--understanding per the carnal mind, rather). Like with Elisha and his servant, we are to be blind and yet to see: Elisha wasn't concerned with what he saw with physical eyes and understanding. He was aware as much as anyone of their situation, of being surrounded and utterly outmanned. But He knew God. He was aware that God is the commander of legions of angel armies which are turned to minister to those who love Him and seek His will. Elisha rested in His knowledge of God. And who knows that he even saw those armies of God, himself? Perhaps he did. Perhaps he didn't. It really doesn't matter. All that matters is that he trusted they were there, either way. He trusted God--trusted in who He is, in what He's capable of, and in His provisions. And he asked that God would allow his servant to know this, too, per seeing the truth of it.

He doesn't always give such sight, though. A lot of the time, lately, there's been a call to just remember Him, remember where He's brought me from, what He's brought me through, what work He's done in me, and just remember who He is, His love, and His faithfulness. Even through fellowship.

Especially through fellowship, lately.

And through some really difficult conversations in which I've confessed the uncharitable thoughts of my heart--my suspicions of and misgivings toward others who are family in Christ. The grace they extended toward me is unlike anything I've known, except that direct from the Lord Himself in forgiving me and drawing me and loving me despite and fully aware of my wretchedness: Both are unto sanctification, though. Both are of the Lord.

We confess so that there may be healing, I was reminded tonight. Same as unto asking forgiveness from the Lord, Himself.

As the Lord leads, always. Confess truths. Confess sins. But by all means, confess.

And, just to note: It is written that He has chosen us in the fires of our affliction.
...seems no small thing.

Honest Conversations

All so strange. The Lord was really gracious during conversation with someone seeking, earlier--regarding truth. I can’t rely on myself, on my own mind, on uniformity of logic to be present and consistently maintained in a way which signifies truth of what’s going on in the world and within us each, as relates to God's truth/s and nature/being, during conversation...and from conversation to conversation, especially. So I can, do, and must rely on Him to guide speech and thought.

And He does. I don’t perfectly heed Him, but when consciously longing after His guidance, longing after Him…He makes the way plain, even of speech. And although I’m regularly too distracted by so many worldly and selfish things to possess clarity for discerning His guidance...still, He leads. He’s the strong one in this relationship. Otherwise, I'd have been shipwrecked so many times over. 

Because if it were up to me to find my way and maintain a steadfast course, rather than up to Him to lead me and preserve me…I’d always be lost and would perpetually have remained astray.

He made something clear to me today, which had never been clear before, though--over course of particular conversation. The idea of us being good, but just making bad choices--it's inherently self-contradictory. And being inherently self-contradictory, that effectively signifies inherent knowledge that there's a condition of goodness from which we have departed. As unto making "bad choices"--unto doing evil, moreover. 

C.S. Lewis has a really well presented argument of this lattermost point in the beginnings of Mere Christianity, I think it was. About our intended nature (pre-fall) being implied per the human realization that there's a right way of doing things and a wrong way of doing them--especially implied per our continual recognition that we consistently fail to measure up. We're aware of what we should be, and that awareness is made evident when we lament or denounce or rationalize that "no one's perfect." And we condemn ourselves by acknowledging that we're aware we don't measure up to what we should be, even acknowledging our deviance. Lewis made the point that no other creature goes against its nature in the way we do. And I'm not sure I'm presenting this particularly well. Just...something of knowing what we should do, yet not doing it. 

There's a duplicity to us, as such. We see what we ought to be, but at the same time, we see that we aren't that. But instead of seeking to be reconciled to what we should be, we tend instead to further rationalize what we are instead.

Like as, I have wanted to believe we’re good. I’ve spent a good deal of my life attempting to convince myself of humanity’s innate, inherent goodness...as it presently exists. But our fallen nature isn’t good. We aren’t good. If we were good, we wouldn’t do evil–the greatest of which is to turn away from God, though anything which is against or departed from conformity to His nature is still...become evil, for having departed from goodness. He is perfect in His goodness, love, and kindness, is the thing. So turning away from Him and turning away from conformity to His nature is turning away from these modes of being, effectively--regardless what our self-given rationalizations are, regardless our "intentions," we err ever per attempt to convince ourselves it's reasonable or trivial to turn away from Him and attempt our own course, our own plans, our own designs. Departing from Him is departing from goodness, except that He may restrain despite us (again--He's the strong one in this relationship: Creator>creation). Even more deeply lamenting the crimes we commit against one another, versus lamenting to greater extent the crimes we commit against Him by turning from Him?--further exemplification of how grievously we’ve turned against Him, evidencing clearly that we regard ourselves and even one another much more highly than we regard Him. But there are so many ways to justify that sort of approach to life--but…no, no matter how "rational," it's still a lie to esteem ourselves rather than God.

So, just no.

We lie to ourselves in so many ways, is all. All of us do. To be capable of turning away from God, we’ve chosen a lie over the truth: We’ve chosen to rationalize anything being superior and more desirable than remaining in right relationship with Him, which constitutes lying to ourselves. And He lets us have these delusions which we choose. He allows us freedom to choose what we would prefer to have, and we all choose evil--we all choose to depart from doing good, loving Him and loving others more than ourselves. 

Except that He restrains so much, still--as a mercy to everyone--we’d be utterly destroyed by the outworking of such wickedness: We’d destroy ourselves and one another even more rapidly and violently than is the case, already. Only by His grace unto us is any one of us restrained from going to utmost depths of darkness and malice and wretchedness as we're capable--this is not a result of inherent goodness, self-maintained. But ordained by Him. That none of us could boast in ourselves. Because if we were the originators of our "goodness," on any front--we would boast in ourselves and would have somewhat cause to do so. But we have no right to boast in our works or our goodness. Whatever we have, we have by grace. And the whole of it is too vast for brief consideration. 

All the ways He has ordered and designed and maintained and decreed things is beyond human reckoning. Nonetheless, He invites us all to strive to understand Him and know Him, regardless our inherent limitations: Accepting, all along the while--He is beyond our reckoning. We cannot question Him as judging Him: He allows and bids us to ask Him about Himself and about His ways, but we aren’t in position to look askance at His ways, nor at what He allows or allots. Although He again and again wants open discussion and bids us be honest with Him of how we feel--and He does respond--still, ultimately, He reminds us of truth.

He bids us come to the conversation, reason with Him, though: Even despairing, even lamenting, even–as Jonah did–resenting His ways, even–as Job did–grieving His ways…then, still we are to come to Him, reason with Him. He is the heart-changer. He is the one who has overcome.

He is God and He is Master….Lord of all.

Whether we like it or not.

And He bids us come. 

Basic Training: Fires of Affliction

 I got nothing. All the things are just...too much.

Even to speak would be...too much. But I trust the Lord. He has borne and He will carry. He said so. He doesn't birthe us to new life to abandon us to the lions and wolves. Though it sure seems that way, sometimes.

He brought up Elisha, tonight. Of being surrounded entirely by the enemy, seeming utterly lost and overwhelmed. But the truth was revealed. Greater are those who were with them than those against them.

And of Jehoshaphat's battle...where the Lord said it was His own battle, not theirs. That they were to just watch Him fight and watch Him overcome. And the king and his people conferred and appointed singers to precede the army, and when they began to praise the Lord and sing in worship, the Lord acted by overcoming the enemy.

There's no methodology, though. It's not a "if you do this, that's going to happen"-sort of thing. Trying to "invoke" these instances as though the Lord can be manipulated to move in likewise fashion if we entreat Him similarly...isn't a thing. We are to wait on Him, to trust Him utterly...blind to everything going on, deaf to everything we're told...except to see His faithfulness and goodness and truthfulness and to hear His promises and His voice, which is the still, small voice, the one which is just behind us telling us "this is the way, walk in it," and telling us to go to the right or the left.

He says that He will make our darkness as light for us. And something about making straight the path, flattening the mountains, making our steps secure, bringing us into a wide place (one of security and provision), guiding and guarding our steps. And renewing our hearts and transforming our minds.

It's impossible for me, at least, not to be completely overcome and overwhelmed by confusions and fears and griefs and all the many pains there are. I just can't not be overwhelmed. It took extended periods of fasting, which requires a level of dependence on Him that I just can't drum up without His help, not to utterly despair and completely fall prey to all the many temptations to despair, to hurt myself, to completely forsake hope...when things were actively chaotic with my family in 2014 and 2015. And it's not as though there's not still a battle. But I remember who He is more quickly now, in the midst of all-out warfare. By His grace, alone. And by grace, He leads me to a more quick and full surrender in the midst of horrors, now, too. Not as though it's immediate, but He leads to that...and the more horribly things have gone, the greater the terrors, the more deeply He drives home the call and the means of turning to Him wholeheartedly in surrender and dependence and...just waiting, even while pleading with Him.

Someone was talking to me about military training, recently. About the requirement to be able to rapidly assemble and disassemble and reassemble, something of 200 times, one's rifle in the dark...prior to leaving training, entering battle. And same of all the other maneuvers and attacks and defenses that are taught and drilled and honed to a point of unconscious ease.

Because in the midst of terrors and horrors unimaginable, in the midst of trauma beyond comprehension, in the midst of active assault and warfare on every front, from every side, in every way possible...being able to do those things which are necessary to life and to survival must be automatic--both an automatic response and an automatic process unto completion. In the midst of sheer and abject assault, we will have nothing else but those things which are so much a part of us that they arise of their own volition, in response.

Turning to God, as such, is of Him. Our sin-wrecked impulses are ever to turn away from God, from what I read. But He draws, nonetheless. And some do turn. The exact measure of each to each, drawing and response...is a mystery to me. But I know that we love Him because He first loved us. Responsive relationship. Creator unto created.

But turning to Him in the midst of dire assaults...even lamenting...then, still, is of Him. He called His people to reason with Him, to engage in dialogue, to discuss circumstances and have it out in conversation. He basically pleaded with them to at least come and enter such a dialogue with Him, to have it out and unto truth. Truth is what He wants.

He knows our frame. We can't bear up under the pressures, strains, and horrors of life. He knows this. He's walked this world. He's not apart from it, even now. But we weren't meant to walk alone. He bids us come to Him. Whatever the burden. All of them. His yoke is easy, His burden is light.

Our salvation is found in rest. It is written.

The alternative is to strain and struggle in our own paltry strength, to attempt to line things out in ways which make sense to us according to what we know, are aware of, see, and can conceive of possibly occurring. To attempt to plot a course which accounts for the potential pitfalls and challenges, so to maneuver around them in a way which makes sense to us...and as to be better situated to maneuver well through whatever our predicament happens to be.

But we don't know enough about what's going on to be able to adequately plan for potential eventualities. He might permit us that delusion, for howsoever long. But it's a delusion to believe we can plot and plan according to our own understanding of circumstances and even our own understanding of Scripture. There's a vast difference between attempting to apply Scripture to life according to what we think is necessary, versus trusting God to lead in what is good and right and necessary unto our conformity to His image and our obedience in this world. Eisegesis vs. exegesis. And it seems as though there's a lot of confusion on that distinction, regarding where the work of Christ's Holy Spirit is involved.

But then, what do I know. We all have to answer for ourselves before the Lord, ultimately. And knowing that, sharing these things with others is not trivial--then, still it's trusting Him to guide and lead and give discernment all the while. Because I certainly am not perfected. Christ alone is perfect. We all have to heed Him, when it comes to reading and heeding anything shared with us--no matter how highly we value the other person, no matter how closely they walk with the Lord, no matter how many instances counsel has been utterly confirmed by the Spirit of the Lord as being in accord with His self-revelation as Scripture. No matter what, everything has to be weighed before the Lord. By Him. We all err, as it were. We all sin. And sometimes even the most sanctified of us may give way to another spirit, unawares. We don't know what could happen. All we know is what the Lord has told us, and what He teaches us moment by moment, now.

But if we're not accustomed to resting in Him, abiding in His love, being led by His Spirit...the process of being conformed to such point of unconscious yet blatant dependence is going to be honed by Him--perhaps painfully--perhaps especially when trials come. Which they do. And will.

I got caught up last summer (or perhaps the spring) in fear over drawing nearer to the Lord, knowing that to do so would be unto further trial, unto further mortification of self, unto further tribulations. But I asked Him to help with that fear. And He did, He has. He is doing so, still. I don't get to keep parts of my heart in reserve, out of fear of pain, attempting to preserve myself. It's all or none, with Jesus. And I knew that when He revealed Himself to me, and wholly capitulated in that moment. Yet still, He continues working that out.

But after two years of being continually grieved and bereft and despised and rejected and mocked and isolated (by turning toward the Lord thus away from others, some, and by being ostracized for various reasons, other)...of losing everything dear to me, again and again even so briefly...I was afraid, knowing I hadn't the strength to endure, knowing I couldn't bear any more loss, any more grief. And that was in the midst of ongoing health trials, too--nearly unto death as far as I am aware. In midst of becoming as no one to anyone, even isolated unto death...except that God was with me, alone. He, alone, was my companion. And I turned my back to Him sometimes, even. Grievously so, seeking help and solace elsewhere. Finding none, but finding only further pains...and eventually being so broken again as to collapse and find myself in His presence, embraced. Grieving, then, to have grieved Him. As again, recently.

But I'd gotten to a point last summer (or was it the spring?) where I was afraid to long for Him, because of a fear of what would come next: What fresh torment, what wound more deeply cast. What loss and rejection, next. I sincerely expected homelessness would be a thing forthcoming, and also expected homelessness the year before, when things were likewise at their worst (after accidentally poisoning myself, perhaps--sometime around that point...). And I asked Him for help in casting myself fully upon Him, again, come what may. Because He is worth anything, just to know Him.

There's still something of me that is timidly wavering away from the thought of continued griefs and torments and deaths. But I'm too far gone right now to pay much mind to it, by grace.

But still, it is so painful to watch people I care about being tossed and torn and shredded, pleading with the Lord for mercy, for deliverance, for help. Just...help.

Yet I know there's no other help except Christ, Himself. And I just hope and pray for His continued keeping of myself. And hope and pray for His continued preservation and direction of others who are dear, who are His, too. Directing every step. Guarding hearts. Giving peace in the midst of utter chaos. There's nowhere else to turn. He may use many means by which to help, but in truth, any help comes from Him.

So, trusting Him, waiting upon Him...there's nothing else.

Ultimately, then, we shall overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimonies, and that we do not and will not love our lives as to shy away from death. Jesus has let us know that death has no sting for us, now.

He has rebuked me numerous times, though gently as is His way, with the following passage...when I've begun to be afraid of what others may do to me or say of me or how others may treat me. Fearing even to speak. Or to be present. But, I will trust Him. And will testify of the many things He has done and is yet doing. Testifying of the truth of who He is and of His goodness, to all the earth. I will speak of His goodness while I dwell in the land of the living. Even offering the sacrifice of thanksgiving when my heart is otherwise given to griefs and lamentation. No matter how I feel, still He's worthy of praise. He, alone, is worthy. And He is faithful.

If He allows griefs, He will work good through them. Even though Joseph's captivity and imprisonment were for years of darkness and shame...torment and mockery and rejection, even...then, still, the Lord lifted him up to a place of beneficence unto all. Through many dangers, toils, and snares he went. Kept safe by God's grace, though there were instances which could easily have been unto His death. His life held in God's own hand, precious. God's own. Reminders that He can be trusted. If He otherwise allowed all the evils free reign, death would have grasped and not released.

But the Lord has a plan. I have absolutely no idea what it is. I have absolutely no idea whether I will ever see it come to pass while I still walk on this earth. But I know He is good. And I know He hears our prayers and answers according to His will. And I know His will is good. And I trust Him. Even if I never see my family again, which is difficult to even think, let alone to admit publicly. Even if I never get to see them, for all however many reasons there are, but especially as not having peace, and refusing to step out ahead of the Lord...for knowing how dreadful that is, especially when "good intentioned." Then, still, I trust Him with them. He loves them far more than I do or ever could. He fashioned them lovingly. He knows their every thoughts and gives them breath. I trust Him.

And same of whatever else. There still is the immediate grief which the enemy makes much of, unto temptations on all fronts...but the Lord draws me back to Himself, to remembrance of who He is. And I will trust Him. Moment by moment. Because I love Him. Because He's trustworthy. And because there's no alternative which is conscionable. So, I will continue drawing nearer. Trusting that whatever comes or goes, He will likewise give me strength to endure...being my strength, moreover. Carrying me. Because I can't. But He's willing. And if He allows griefs, pains, turmoils, and losses...then it's to a good end. No matter the pain. Knowing Him, I know these things to be true. That's everything.

Isaiah 51:7-16

7 Listen to Me, you who know rightness and justice and right standing with God, the people in whose heart is My law and My instruction: fear not the reproach of men, neither be afraid nor dismayed at their revilings.

8 For [in comparison with the Lord they are so weak that things as insignificant as] the moth shall eat them up like a garment, and the worm shall eat them like wool. But My rightness and justice [and faithfully fulfilled promise] shall be forever, and My salvation to all generations.

9 [Zion now cries to the Lord, the God of Israel] Awake, awake, put on strength andmight, O arm of the Lord; awake, as in the ancient days, as in the generations of long ago. Was it not You Who cut Rahab [Egypt] in pieces, Who pierced the dragon [symbol of Egypt]?

10 Was it not You Who dried up the Red Sea, the waters of the great deep, Who made the depths of the sea a way for the redeemed to pass over? [Why then are we left so long in captivity?]

11 [The Lord God says] And the redeemed of the Lord shall return and come with singing to Zion; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads. They shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

12 I, even I, am He Who comforts you. Who are you, that you should be afraid of man, who shall die, and of a son of man, who shall be made [as destructible] as grass,

13 That you should forget the Lord your Maker, Who stretched forth the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth, and fear continually every day because of the fury of the oppressor, when he makes ready to destroy or even though he did so? And where is the fury of the oppressor?

14 The captive exile and he who is bent down by chains shall speedily be released; and he shall not die and go down to the pit of destruction, nor shall his food fail.

15 For I am the Lord your God, Who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar andWho by rebuke restrains it—the Lord of hosts is His name.

16 And I have put My words in your mouth and have covered you with the shadow of My hand, that I may fix the [new] heavens as a tabernacle and lay the foundations of a [new] earth and say to Zion, You are My people.

Liberty Through Fear of God and Loving Truth

There's a freedom found in fearing the Lord which eclipses everything. Being awe-struck with terror at the realization of His complete awareness and power, of His absolute knowledge and intimate awareness of every aspect of our being, and His total control over our continued existence and that of all else--realizing everything is subject to Him and sustained by Him, realizing His power to such extent as experiencing the truth of our absolute vulnerability in context of His absolute sovereignty...

...frees from self-regard, eclipses all temptations, and drives darkness back. He does this. Pursuing knowledge of Him as to fear Him more than anything else...releases us from fear and being prey to other things. Releases us from the powers of temptations which attempt to get us to doubt, to become bitter, to question, to chart our own course, and all else of temptation, too--all is silenced by remembrance of who He is: Who God is. Who Christ is, in truth.

See our Lord in John's Revelation--in a robe stained with blood. Enacting vengeance, which is His to do. And giving warning. Warning us to return to our first love. Warning us to ask Him for our sustenance, to ask Him to refine our faith, to ask Him to give us true wealth--knowledge of Him, dependence upon Him. Warning that otherwise we will be lost and will suffer the consequences.

He loves us too much to be dishonest with us about the consequences we entreat and face unless we repent. He loves us enough to continually remind us of the truth of who He is. All of us are reminded, though--no one has an excuse, it's written: Creation displays the truth. The gospel is proclaimed night by night, written in the stars. The truth is here and everywhere else, too: He loves us enough to have ensured we are confronted with the truth of who He is and what He's done, regardless our attempts to deny reality, reject Him, and suppress truth.

He doesn't force us to accept truth, but He doesn't cease presenting the truth despite that we prefer the lie. Because He loves His creation, His creatures.

His love is an all-consuming fire, though.

Nothing remains unchanged, when entering His love. Just as fire transforms--transmutes, even--wherever and however He finds us, He does meet us there, but we are changed if indeed we have entered into loving relationship with Him.

We are altered, rather. Bit by bit. But significantly.

Truth changes us. And I still am asking for clarity regarding the way (ways) He works through His Scriptures--I've heard of people who read and are further confirmed in their denial of Him, and it was a brief pursuit which also turned me further away from Him in youth...but even that, I guess, constitutes change: Just clearly evidencing what was already present. Not as though there was no conviction of truth, but just that the preference for delusion was more steadfastly grasped and proclaimed thereafter.

He does use His Word. It's not as though there's an instance where reading His Word won't have some effect--even if it's not apparent, is all. The changes effected are not under our control. But effected just per course that's how He is and what He's intended, what He promises to do...His work.

I do tend to become wrapped up in lamentation of our (mankind's) tendency to see God's work and consider ourselves effecting it, where it comes to His Scripture, especially. And I tend to respond against the proclamation of man's ability and control by going too far unto denouncing the effective workings of God through His Scriptures: It does not sit well that so many view His Word as existing somehow apart from Him, as independently knowable--likewise viewing creation and each of us as apart from Him, distinctly able to act and think without requiring Him for each and every bit: "Doing our part,"-sort of thing, as though somehow anything we do is apart from Him. It's a duplicitousness that's partially blind, is all. But none of us see entirely clearly.

So it's His place to clarify and to open our eyes to truth. We haven't the words. But He does. And I trust Him to use them. Because of the depth of His love and goodwill toward those who are His, especial.

Knowing Him for who He is, though. That puts things in perspective. Casts down every imagination. Submitting to Him, as such...temptation does vanish. Submitting to Him, as resisting the devil...the devil flees from Him.

Just, as go those imaginations which exalt themselves against Him--without having a clear and solid hold on truth, imaginations and doubts and fears begin to take on a power all their own. Without being solidly and firmly positioned in the truth of God, rooted and grounded in Him, everything begins to seem relative to perspective. Good will begin to seem equally weighted to evil. And vice versa. Things begin to seem as though they could easily be argued reasonably from all sides when truth isn't solidly and firmly grasped.

God Himself is the point of determination. Apart from relying on Him, wholly, the truthfulness of all else can't be well gauged. Everything does seem equal apart from solid reference to truth, is all. And the truth is in Him. Departing from reliance upon Him, knowledge of Him, we can just as easily fall prey to calling good evil and evil good as did the nation of Israel. Even having His Scriptures and paying heed to the offerings required.

A matter of heart, though. We're either actively being hardened or renewed--which is it, then?

Part of being so concerned with these things has been concentric about a longing for truth in interaction. With sincere concern, with respect. Compassionate of the pain engendered.

Just...it seems so often that truth is avoided, for fear: Fearing harsh response. Fearing rejection. Fearing humiliation. Fearing vulnerability. Fearing consequences. Just...fearing. Where's the love, in that? If we can't bring ourselves to love one another enough to be honest with one another, then what sort of love do we have? And it's also heart-wrenching to have truth only be partially implied and not spoken forthrightly. Because, then, there's still uncertainty which gives place to suspicion and confusion.

That "sort" of truth provides room for all sorts of footholds for the enemy to use. So I have a difficult time considering it arisen out of love or per the Lord.

The Lord doesn't shy away from painful truths. He doesn't shy away from ones which humiliate us. Not because He doesn't care about the pain and humiliation we endure. But because He does care about our well-being. He endured humiliation, shame, public torment and mockery and rejection and shame, and the punishment due us, bearing our sins in order to make a way to bring us into truth. And He is able to sympathize with our public mortification and humiliation and shame and griefs, having endured them Himself...enduring them for us, moreover. And He's now able to sympathize with us in these matters when we're confronted with all manner of circumstances and even hard truths which inspire shame, grief, humiliation, or anything else painful to bear. He's there with us, in the midst, to guard and guide us to bear through to freedom--to bear through in submissive, loving obedience to Him which isn't ultimately swayed by circumstances. Loving truth rather than our own lives.

And it's not a trivial matter, to speak truth, either. These are some heavily emotional, grievous experiences wrought, per truth. Even suffering--but unto rejoicing, being freed from delusions. Just...because there's such potential for invoking pains, griefs, shames...we need all the more to trust Him to guide in speech. We need all the more to require Him to guide, even longing for truth. Longing to know and to speak truth, yet awaiting His guidance as to walk in love enough to be able to speak bluntly the hardest truths which no one else possesses love enough as to voice with compassion.

Fear and self-interest leave all sorts of room for dissimulation and for avoidance. But if we love one another, we'll entreat one another forthrightly and respectfully and compassionately, so not to increase shame, increase humiliation, increase the pains of being confronted with truths that are hard.

One of the teachers I used to sometimes listen to spoke of the love required to be equipped to speak truth--as with a parent who is grieved the entire time they discipline their child, grieving over the pain they know their child is enduring while driven by love of the child to discipline them, knowing it must be done in order to approach a greater purpose. Then same of being honest with one another: Driven by love. Motivated by love. Grieving the process, per love. Loving, all the while. And if imperfectly, then taking moments of faltering unto the Lord, crying out for forgiveness and for help. Because of love.

Love of Him and of others.

It grieves not to be given the gift of honesty, then. Just as it grieves not to give the gift of honesty. Not perfectly done by any of us, anyway. But to continually only have others hint at truth but never speak it, to only have what seems like attempt to insinuate truths--left entirely in the realm of plausible deniability--is a very worldly thing. And we all do it. We all do. Usually under guise of being kind to others or kind to ourselves.

Good intentions don't make something right, though.

But fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. And such wisdom will guide us in how to act rightly. Ever so much as being actively in submission to God--of fear and love--though. Waiting upon His guidance, still...is wisdom.

Refiner's Fire

He is so gracious. In the midst of it all. I have no idea of the way forward, but through Christ is all. Impossibility on all sides, and beyond present mention regarding various of the facets confronted--not all personally effect, yet still closely regarded and impactful. By His will, then. By His grace.

The only way forward is through Christ. In Him. Period. Nothing else. No other deliverer, no other refuge, no other help. None else remains as even partial possibility. None but solidarity with Christ, Himself. Surrendering all, every moment. Every moment. In the midst of abject warfare. In the deep waters. Trusting Him, securely.

These many long months, now, of learning to work in a situation where darkness abounds: Constant requirement to defer to Him, continually, so to persist in remaining well and functional and present. This requirement becomes increasing evident, per becoming increasingly cognizant of the depths of darkness abounding. We are, none of us, exempt from such a need for abject and utter reliance on the Lord, though. None of us can afford to persist in retaining delusions of our own strength, our own ability, our own means of plotting a course, or otherwise we're ready prey to so many temptations at the outset: Pride goeth before the fall.

And yet even to remain aware of how absolute the need is for Him in all things--even to guard thoughts and our hearts from straying and to continually redirect and cleanse and restore them--is from and of and by Him. Just ask Him. That's all. Which even to ask, with any sincerity, is from and by His grace. We're otherwise blind to the need even to ask for deliverance, for His searching our hearts and minds, for His ongoing redemptive work in us. Even reading words in Scripture, we don't grasp them unless He moves--they remain dry sounds in our ears, barren scribblings to our eyes, shallow impressions upon our minds, and hollow tappings upon our heart. No matter how straightforward He's been and is in His Word, unless He gives sight and insight and impression, none of it so much as rattles the cage we're in per our persistent delusions.

But desperation is something He often uses to clarify and refine focus, it seems. Especially per afflictions from without and within--making evident He's the only solace, the only deliverer: Making truth more apparent, moreover.

It was pointed out to me tonight that Moses asked the Lord that he would help him understand Him by showing him His ways (Exodus 33:13). Not that He would continually reveal His glory, His mercy, His kindness, His love. But that He would let Moses understand Him by showing His ways. How He is. Not just who. But how He is.

And the Lord gave through Jeremiah that if we are to proclaim anything, of ourselves, that it should only be that we know God and understand Him (Jeremiah 9:24).

So knowing someone isn't just about knowing them, as a unique individual, but loving them enough to want to understand their ways--wanting to know by what manner and why they do the things they do, in addition to just being familiar with what they do. Without making light of these things, then--without discounting them as trivial, upon being revealed and recognized and somewhat understood. Rather, we may count the one thusly understood all the more precious, per grasping something of their essence--counted all the more precious, being the more understood. Understanding is a gift to be given, even as evidenced by Moses's request of God.

He seems to reveal His ways most clearly when He's preserving, sustaining, guiding, and delivering through and from afflictions and sufferings. And perhaps the more poignantly so when not delivering us out of them, but through and in the midst of suffering. Such times as when all else falls away under the absolute strain and sheer impossibility of situations, when eyes can only fix upon Him or otherwise perish--though waiting upon Him, yearning and pleading for Him to act. Yet trusting Him all the while, as doubts surface and fall away under the weight of circumstances. Expectations and false notions of understanding Him--idols, moreover--are laid to rest in the face of His actual being, His true presence. He silences doubts, then, ultimately. He thus casts down everything which is not true--casts down everything which is thus effectively opposed to Him.

So many things of torment and horror, grief and terror. Yet He reigns, nonetheless. And He has overcome. Though this world and each of us who are His yet ache and cry out for restoration, redemption, completion of His finished work. We live in Christ, though, no matter the pains.

So, we're given not merely to know Him, then...but to know His ways and understand Him. Which, given that His ways are so far above ours, is not a minor or easily grasped pursuit. All the more blessed to receive, no matter the cost. And the cost is everything. Continually: He is jealous for our affections, our attentions, our hearts and minds and strength--for our own good, though, even as unto His glory. Gladly, then, I note His jealousy. Even for the renown of His name: He leads us in paths of righteousness for His name's sake. (Psalm 23:3, Psalm 31:3, Psalm 109:21, Ezekiel 20:14, Isaiah 48:10-12, Ephesians 1:5-6)

Psalm 86

A Prayer of David.

1 Incline Your ear, O Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and distressed, needy and desiring.

2 Preserve my life, for I am godly and dedicated; O my God, save Your servant, for I trust in You [leaning and believing on You, committing all and confidently looking to You, without fear or doubt].

3 Be merciful and gracious to me, O Lord, for to You do I cry all the day.

4 Make me, Your servant, to rejoice, O Lord, for to You do I lift myself up.

5 For You, O Lord, are good, and ready to forgive [our trespasses, sending them away, letting them go completely and forever]; and You are abundant in mercy and loving-kindness to all those who call upon You.

6 Give ear, O Lord, to my prayer; and listen to the cry of my supplications.

7 In the day of my trouble I will call on You, for You will answer me.

8 There is none like unto You among the gods, O Lord, neither are their works like unto Yours.

9 All nations whom You have made shall come and fall down before You, O Lord; and they shall glorify Your name.

10 For You are great and work wonders! You alone are God.

11 Teach me Your way, O Lord, that I may walk and live in Your truth; direct and unite my heart [solely, reverently] to fear and honor Your name.

12 I will confess and praise You, O Lord my God, with my whole (united) heart; and I will glorify Your name forevermore.

13 For great is Your mercy and loving-kindness toward me; and You have delivered me from the depths of Sheol [from the exceeding depths of affliction].

14 O God, the proud and insolent are risen against me; a rabble of violent and ruthless men has sought and demanded my life, and they have not set You before them.

15 But You, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in mercy and loving-kindness and truth.

16 O turn to me and have mercy and be gracious to me; grant strength (might and inflexibility to temptation) to Your servant and save the son of Your handmaiden.

17 Show me a sign of [Your evident] goodwill and favor, that those who hate me may see it and be put to shame, because You, Lord, [will show Your approval of me when You] help and comfort me.

...

As referred to tonight, the united heart may be one long-broken, tormented, and shattered by life and a variety of traumas. A prayer tonight acknowledged that He doesn't do patch work--Jesus, our Lord and God, heals. He takes the fragments, the shards, the splintered pieces of a battered heart and unites all those pieces. He mends a heart unto ability for a unified cry unto the Lord--fearing Him as a unified, whole heart. Nothing wavering. Nothing held in reserve. Nothing remaining apart. Wholly given to Him. Wholly turned toward Christ. Then, also praise arises unto Him from a whole heart. Nothing wavering.

And just as He collects and holds the pieces, He will mend them as such. He is the master carpenter and the great physician. His work is good, though He takes His time and the process oft seems to involve a lot of sawing, carving, and sanding...or a lot of meticulous incisions, cuts, and binding. I will trust Him, though--whatever comes or goes.

Not merely casting all hopes on Him and placing all trust in Him because there's nowhere else to turn, but because I love Him and I know He's faithful and good and kind. He's shown me again and again--in big ways and small ways--that though I may not have a whit of understanding of circumstances, and though I may ofttimes find myself at wit's end with grief and despair: He is working good. Effectively. No matter the pain. 

If I didn't understand that, I would still fear so many things. And I wouldn't come out of lamentation into praise, again and again, despite that circumstances haven't necessarily changed (and ofttimes even become more painful--inconceivably so). 

In the midst of trying circumstances, I lose track of this all and am overwhelmed by grief and pain, sometimes: He has to draw me back to remembering who He is and how He is. But He does. So although I flail and falter continually, He is faithful to continue His work. And He is faithful to preserve and to deliver (Psalm 37:39-40...or really, just Psalm 37). Excelsior?