To love Christ more wholeheartedly, to share in His sufferings in any capacity--even if not strictly according to the griefs of persecution for faith, but of rejection according to man's ways or as result of my own sin, being chastised...nonetheless, to find myself made far less... This is a blessing untold. Lord, if You will keep me, even in love and grace...let me live in surrender and abject dependence upon You. I cannot bear, but You carry.
I cannot.
That is the cry of my heart again and again, in this--I cannot do this. I cannot bear this. Lord, I cannot. Please help me. And His nearness in this is so sweet to me, and the strength He continues giving me to walk along and to love more freely in the midst of a grief which shatters pride all the more and desires all the more for the good of others--this, I would have. Even if I can't be with those whom I love, then I will trust that He is indeed the good God who gives and who takes away. And blessed be His Name. Forever.
I need this grief to carry me through the difficulties of the next couple weeks--not as abject necessity, but only to say I need the humility which this has wrought, abasing.
And nonetheless, in some strange way it seems maybe I have gained a friend. Time will tell whether that is so, or whether even that is something fleeting in this world. Either way, my hands are open. I don't require anything of him. The Lord has blessed me through this amazing man, even in grief. So, I will cherish this blessing of having known him, regardless of whether the Lord would cease or prosper the fellowship. It could be either. I have no idea. And in a sense...oddly, as much as all this hurts...I somehow don't care.
I don't understand it. Because I do care for this man, deeply. But I don't care what happens. If we never speak again, so what? He's a brother in Christ, and we'll worship in eternity together--which will be without all the travesties of sin and selfishness. And that's wonderful. But even then, it will be unto God and not of one another at all. As it ought.
This is just so weird, for me. Because there's still this longing in my heart to be with him, to enjoy his company, to know of his experiences, to be further amazed at the insights which the Lord has given him, and to rejoice with him, in the Lord. To walk with him, at his side, truly. My heart does long for that. But more deeply still, rooted in this love of the Lord which constrains me and is the driving force for my life and desires...I want most for him what I want for myself: That he will know the love of God in Christ Jesus, the length, and width, and height, and depth of it, and the unsearchable riches of the wisdom of God in Him, toward us who are saved according to His good pleasure and mercy, rejoicing over us at the delight of having His prize. I long for him that he will enter and strive to remain in the rest of God which is in Christ Jesus, and continue to be liberated from sin through nearness to God in Christ, and that he will find his joy and purpose and peace in Christ, that all the world would be as rubbish to him, compared to the riches and glory of knowing Christ Jesus, our Lord.
I have seen his heart, and have known his mind--by God's grace and allowance, not per prior wiles. And he is a dear brother to me. And I commit him to Christ, as He wills. And will continue to pray for him and for his family. Because that's what I do for all those whom I love. Regardless where I'm at along the spectrum of surrender and submission to the will of God, in matters.
The odd thing is, I don't know still that there's not hope. But it somehow doesn't matter. Because I'm not clinging to that, perhaps. I'm not setting my heart and life on him. The thought of doing so is repulsive, though I know I had with others. It's loathsome, though.
I just grieve this breach. I grieve this loss of nearness. I grieve the present, recent dreams so rapidly built and discarded. I grieve, bereaved of fellowship. One who is dear is now far off.
And yet it has to be that way.
Quite frankly, this distance is every bit as much from my end as his. I couldn't bear matters as they were any longer, either. Just too much, so quickly. And I am not remotely ready to commit. Not remotely. Though the idea of it was sorely tempting.
He has no idea though, I think, of how utterly terrified I was all along the while. How barely restrained from running. I did start pushing back though a couple weeks ago. Being as open as I was--that was a pre-emptive sort of defense. Those sorts of matters are known to rile and unsettle. And to call attention to it, too?
I couldn't bear it.
But he did start the matter, by making comments about me pushing him away. So he wanted me to, regardless. Neither of us could bear.
So, I'm free still. To seek the Lord. To care for this man from a distance. And to just wait upon the Lord, regarding whether there will ever be marriage for me. Because, quite frankly, I do want that...but I am absolutely and bone-quakingly terrified of that reality. Being able to so easily unsettle men does help on that account, though, to prevent development to that extent.
It's grievous. Painful, to go through loss again and again. But no one can handle me. And so it's for the best that I not marry someone who can't. Whoever would will need the very hand of God upon their life, to do so. I'll accept nothing less, as Christ is my portion and my strength.
Those who would find their strength and their security in self, rather than the Lord--seeking deliverance in their own actions and according to their own understanding, rather than turning all the more fully to the Lord? A life with me would destroy them. Too many trials come. Too many tests of faith. I would have faith. I would know God and love and trust Him all the more. And I want marriage, I want a family. In Christ, though. Not apart from Him. That has to be the thing. Like as of my friends in China, so recently bereft of all life's necessities--yet provided for daily, by the Lord...them and their (nearly) one year old daughter.
If one comes who does truly want all their heart given to Christ, who truly does want to serve with all they are and cast their all upon Him--for all guidance and direction and utmost resilience in faith...then that one perhaps the Lord will give me to. And I hope that day does come.
I am still unconvinced of this recent friend. He does seem to truly desire these things. And we've asked God in faith, together, that he would unite us and give us faith, strengthen our faith, and to be each wholly given to him. I've heard some resonance of sincerity in his desire for that. But I don't know the depths to which he's counted that cost. I've tried to be forthright, again and again, even if from oblique angles, at the reality of what that means.
Because it's not unknown, either, is the thing. But the extent to which it's internalized...I don't know.
Regardless, I need more friends of that caliber. Who would abjectly seek Christ, no matter the consequence and without being swayed by the terms of men. Those who hear truth and know it and love it and follow the voice of our Shepherd.
Those who contend for the truth.
Many thoughts.
As a friend of mine has told me, even as I've been utterly amazed with the possibility here, with him...the Lord's will will be done, and if it's not for me to be with him but another--then, though I can't see it now, whoever that will be will be beyond imagining, also. All the more. I can't fathom that, especially with as incomprehensibly wonderful as this brother in Christ is...and that he would want my love for Christ to be foremost and central and growing always (above all else--which, if he didn't want that foremost, to the extent of being willing to crucify his own desires...he would be wholly disqualified from consideration as a marital partner...likewise, of myself)..
...but any way it goes. Just, whatever. I'm going to pray for him. And for his family. And like I'd told others before, he nor anyone else can do anything to stop me. There are folks I haven't seen or spoken with in years....whom I may never see again, yet who have factored into my life at various points, to various extents...and I still pray for them. So, all the more for others now to pray for, and beloved in the Lord. From my youth, and up. I have and I will pray. The Lord is faithful.
And as for this grief--the Lord has been so near. And He's allowed physical pain, too, in measure...which tempers the emotional and mental anguish, surprisingly well. But He's been so gracious too, as not to allow any of it to utterly overwhelm. I was thinking, during the migraine the other day--casting myself wholly upon the Lord, having to drive home despite the pain which made it difficult to sit up, to have my eyes open, to focus...and yet being strengthened by His Spirit and His peace present with me, as has been the case so many times in the midst of my abject devastations of heart and body...
...what would it be to have to depend upon Him daily in the midst of such pain? I truly hoped He wouldn't give that, as it is so sweet to have rest and comfort and to feel well, too...but what would that be?
There've been times--spans of years actually--where chronic pain was a fact of life. And it was a matter of becoming acclimated in ways, learning to move in ways which didn't aggravate, as to mitigate to whatever degree possible. And yet all the while, oft increasing the damage by not actively seeking healing. Letting injury accumulate, instead. Through practices long accustomed, through stubborn unwillingness to alter eating and thinking and interpersonal habits, through stubborn unwillingness to learn of what caused or how to correct the emotional/mental/spiritual and physiological processes gone awry. So much easier to just consume anything, always...to just continue pretending everything is well...even to just cower always before terrors rather than resolutely submitting instead to Christ and yielding to His strength to address matters as necessary. Confronting those matters most dire is needful, even without understanding, but asking God for guidance and wisdom and in humility waiting upon Him while doing whatever is next necessary, as become known.
There is a point of capitulation available, in other words--whereas fears and pains were cast upon Christ, being held still within thrall of His love and sovereignty and solidarity...leaning all upon Him, as is unto receiving His strength and help...then, unto healing. And the pain becomes something else, then. Something clarifying. Something redemptive. Something of a sweet solidarity with the Lord. He bears up, in the midst of the suffering. Even as He brings about and leads unto healing, which for me was neither expected nor known possible.
Holiness and faith are forged in the fires of trial, I just heard.
...Pains, there: Fire is painful, searing. Even as grief is a suffering.
Yet there's such a joy in surrender in the midst. And the joy of His presence is purifying, clarifying, above all other goods, desirable and fulfilling.
...
[redacting content due to various concerns, for private reference only]
I will be praying and fasting, still: Seeking the Lord, yearning after His will, and continuing to strive unto Him, which is to strive after the strength to deny myself in the midst of all this. The love of Christ and of those for whom He died compels me.
He has humbled me in so many ways this past year. I have fallen, in so many ways. But, mercifully, He has purified me through being so abased as seeing more abjectly my utter wretchedness and unworthiness, all the more clearly. I have submitted myself wholly to Him for judgment, receiving mercy in Christ.
I do so want someone to walk with in these matters, though. Someone present to encourage and be encouraged by. That...is what was so especially sweet to me, of recent fellowship. My nearness to Christ and my yearning for Him and love of Him and conviction of sin and repentance worked per the glorious grace of His kindnesses lavished on me...has all been so manifest and encouraged through this recent friendship. And I know that has been mutual, even as evidenced by the turning toward seeking Him again, the more wholeheartedly and convinced of need.
I so want that. And the Lord knows it. But He knows my needs better than I. And I trust He will provide. I just long for that sort of fellowship, of a nearness. What must it have been, to be Peter's wife? With him or other apostle/s cited by Paul, who traveled with their wives...I've never heard other mention of these women, except where Jesus healed Peter's mother-in-law, and then Paul's argument with the church of how others have their wives who travel with them...
What happened to them, though? We know the fates of many of the apostles. But what, of those who lived and loved alongside them, sisters in Christ, wives of men seeking and serving God, walking in step with them as they proclaimed the Gospel to the world.
And I think on that, and of the desire for nearness. And of that which is most needful, in providing for one's own household. These men and their wives perhaps worked together, unto the Lord...or at the very least, they were not separated.
I will be fasting and praying.
1 Corinthians 9:5
Do we not have a right to take along a believing wife, even as the rest of the apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas?
Verse 5. - To lead about a sister, a wife. There can be no doubt that this represents the true reading, and that the meaning is, "We have power to lead about, that is, to travel in company with, some Christian sister to whom we are married, and who is supported at the expense of the Church." This plain meaning, however, involving the assertion that the apostles and desposyni ("the Lord's brethren") were married men, was so distasteful to the morbid asceticism which held celibacy in a sort of Manichaean reverence, that the scribes of the fourth, fifth, and later centuries freely tampered with the text, in the happily fruitless attempt to get rid of this meaning. They endeavoured, by putting the word in the plural or by omitting "wife," to suggest that the women whom the apostles travelled with were "deaconesses." Augustine, Tertullian, Ambrose, and others explain the verse of "ministering women" (Luke 8:2, 3). The false interpretation avenged itself on the bias which led to it. Valla adopts the wilful invention that the apostles, though married, travelled with their wives only as sisters. Such subterfuges have eaten away the heart of honest exegesis from many passages of Scripture, and originated the taunt that it is a "nose of wax," which readers can twist as they like. It was the cause of such shameful abuses and misrepresentations that at last the practice of travelling about with unmarried women, who went under the name of "sisters," "beloved," "companions," was distinctly forbidden by the third canon of the first Council of Nice. Simon Magus might unblushingly carry about with him a Tyrian woman named Helena; but apostles and true Christians would never have been guilty of any conduct which could give a handle to base suspicions. They travelled only with their wives. A sister. A Christian woman (1 Corinthians 7:15; Romans 16:1; James 2:15, etc.). A wife; i.e. as a wife. Other apostles. This is a positive mistranslation for "the rest of the apostles." It might be too much to infer positively from this that every one of the apostles and desposyni were married; but there is independent evidence and tradition to show that at any rate most of them were. The brethren of the Lord. They are clearly and undeniably distinguished from the apostles. According to the Helvidian theory (to which the plain language of the Gospels seems to point), they were sons of Joseph and Mary. This is the view of St. Clement of Alexandria in ancient times, and writers so different from each other as De Wette, Neander, Osiander, Meyer, Ewald, and Alford, in modern. The theory of Jerome, that they were cousins of Jesus, being sons of Alphseus and Mary, a sister of the Virgin, is on every ground absolutely untenable, and it was half dropped even by St. Jerome himself, when it had served his controversial purpose. The theory of Epiphanius, that they were sons of Joseph by a previous marriage, is possible, but incapable of proof. It comes from a tainted source - the apocryphal Gospels (see my 'Early Days of Christianity,' 2). Cephas. St. Paul also uses the Aramaic name in Galatians 2:9. Peter's wife is mentioned in Matthew 8:14 and in the tradition of her martyrdom (Clem. Alex., 'Strom.,' 7. § 63).
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