Burgeoning Light

The Lord allows me to keep most matters very close to my heart, which is to say--before Him--until He gives me grace to have a measure of peace or understanding on them. Troubling matters, that is. 

Used to be, there was ever such an onslaught (continuous) of griefs and traumas that exceedingly few matters ever significantly surfaced. Very few. 

He started to change that in 2015. Kept apart to Him, though seeking fellowship. Having known Him for nearly a year. 

He meets us wherever we are--no matter what pit of depravity we've burrowed ourselves in. Yet Jesus Christ assuredly does not leave us there. Coming to know Him savingly is a submission to Him as God, loving Him increasingly and seeking His mercy for sin, ever seeking Him and His guidance. Loving Him changes us, having been changed first by His love (so as to even love Him). 

He does not leave us where He found us. 

He transforms. 

And yet, we are fickle and feeble still, and readily falter. Nary a single one of us is exempt from human frailty toward sin. No temptation overcomes except what is common. So, every single one is capable. 

He alone is good. He alone is truly unwavering and faithful. He alone is unassailably trustworthy. 

Yet we become so easily self-assured of our devout notions, as though we were insulated from particular faults. No. 

He has humbled me significantly by allowing me to fall grievously in a fashion which I had once (rather proudly, frankly) thought to myself that I would never do again. Because of how precious Christ was (and is) to me. I love Him. He loves me--my Saviour and my King. My Dearest Friend, and yet the One before Whom I tremble in reverential awe (He is terrifying in His Majesty and Holiness and all His perfections).

What He has brought me to realize (one matter, of this) is that it should be no surprise to anyone that any of us or any among us would sin--and even sin grievously. And we deceive ourselves so well, in the throes of our fascination with sin, that we can evade discovery for a time. 

All things will be brought to light, though. Eventually--even if hereafter. They will be manifestly shown to be what and how they truly are. That which is done in secret will be known openly. God will reveal our hearts and deeds, as He judges them. 

Pride keeps us from embracing the reality of our complete inability to discern apart from Him, though. Nothing we have or know, now, is possessed or known except that He has given and opened the eyes of our hearts. 

And so, there are ever only reasons to commit every moment to Him: He gives and He takes away (blessed be His name). 

God is God (He is Sovereign and the Creator and Sustainer of ALL, in so being. And He is self-existent, the only being with aseity.) We are not. We were created. We are sustained. We are subject to His will. And each of us continually falls short of His standards of perfection. 

So who are we to judge what He allows? And who are we to judge what He withholds? 

Does the Potter not have the right to fashion one jar for exalted use, and another for dishonor? And if He mends one and uses it for glorious ends, then we cannot anticipate nor decry His work, even so. 

In our sin though, and especially in grief wrought by our own and compounded by the griefs wrought by others' sins, we have such a tendency to refuse to sit still in that grief and at peace with Him. We eventually, even as Job did, begin to lament our existence and then, to discount His judgments. In our pain, we lash out.  

If He withholds knowledge of the reasons for suffering, who are we to judge Him? And if He allows grievous matters to persist, who are we to judge Him? 

He has given us means of grace. 

And recently, He has chastised me in my griefs for lamenting unduly the pains and injustices which exist, all while refusing the comforts of serving the Body and the graces of fellowship with the Body. 

The same pattern is in all of us--to grieve, and in grief to be separate, and in separation to allow the grief turning toward bitterness to become a wedge of separation between ourselves and others. 

Who grieves without sin, though? Christ, alone. Who laments without bitterness? Truly, He only. 

And even knowing the hearts of men and thus not committing Himself to them, He nonetheless ultimately asked the Father that we would all be One with Him, and with One another--that the world would see and know that God is. 

But in grief, unless it's continually given to Him, we do not go that route. We refuse comfort, we push others away, and we do not speak to them but instead build walls. And walls without doors, unfortunately. 

He's been dealing with me so much on those points, these past few years. I have done what is being done. I was wrong. I was so wrong. And there is still so much to mend, though by grace. 

And frankly, I haven't the sense to have the insight to know how. But the One I love does. He will lead. He will give clarity. 

He does. That's the thing--He does lead in clarity, into light. And sometimes it doesn't make sense on the larger front. And sometimes doing anything except testing matters immediately at hand and just doing the immediate...is abjectly terrifying. 

Sometimes, I can't see anything at all, except to know He is near and to trust Him. 

A few years ago, when first entering some larger-scale impossibilities than I'd ever encountered, He helped me understand to trust Him. And...you can't be loosey-goosey about doctrine, about the Scriptures, about mystical experiences. If you know Jesus and walk with Him you will now His guidance, though. Maybe even that relationship with Him is different with each of us. 

But there is always testing against the whole of the Word. And there is prayer. And there is fellowship. And there is seeking the counsel of multiple others (when possible, if at all possible--some things are too near my heart and too rife with potential for shipwreck to speak except to the Lord...but when there is counsel, testing every bit against Scripture, while praying for clarity). Whatever stands against extensive testing and prayer is submitted to Him then, waiting guidance. 
 
Do you ever think on those words which are so seemingly slight in the Scriptures, though, of Mary--how she treasured certain things in her heart? She pondered those things throughout the lifetime of Jesus, then, and when the time came that God provided clarity of what each truly meant...she shared them, and they were inscripturated for us, today. She pondered throughout those decades prior to His ministry, perhaps at intervals, or maybe it all only came back to mind fully once He had resurrected and ascended--we don't know that side of this. But she pondered them. 

That has been much of my life. But with traumas, especially, and difficult matters. I tend not to act quickly, although from the outside others may think otherwise because I don't talk about things being considered and prayed about until they're fairly settled. And by that point, there's usually arrived the time to act. 

There are just so many things right now, so grievous. I'm glad the Lord prevails.