Joy, Part 1

It is my pleasure to share the news that Josh is on the mend. Over the last several days, I have found myself "happy-shy" in regard to his progress because I am afraid to hope that the three-month ordeal is actually ending. To be truthful, I'm a little ashamed at my doubt and subsequent lack of joy. As I was praying in regard to this attitude glitch the other morning, Psalms 51:12 came to mind: "Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit." Yes, I am indeed in need of joy restoration!

I am also finishing reading Hudson Taylor's autobiography, and I have been struck with the fact that Mr. Taylor had such joy simply in his relationship with God. He was a man who truly delighted in the Lord. He writes of his surrender to service, "The presence of God became unutterably real and blessed, and though but a child under sixteen, I remember stretching myself on the ground, and lying there silent before Him with unspeakable awe and unspeakable joy." There are many such passages in Mr. Hudson's book.

Because my blatant lack of joy coincided with reading about Mr. Taylor's joy and the recollection of Ps 51:12, I thought it might be a good idea to look at the entire chapter of Psalms 51. I'm still in the process of picking this chapter apart and am thoroughly enjoying it.

Just after David begs for the restoration of the joy of his salvation, he pens these words in verse 13, "Then will I teach transgressors thy ways; and sinners shall be converted unto thee." Again, I thought of Hudson Taylor, an amazing missionary to China and the founder of China Inland Missions. Not only did this man have true joy, he had an incredible burden for the souls of men. I want to share a few quotes from his book demonstrating his burden:

In reference to his experience providing medical care to a dying man with a hardened heart Mr. Taylor writes, "I could bear it no longer. Bursting into tears, I crossed the room and said, 'My friend, whether you will hear or whether you will forbear, I must deliver my soul,' and went on to speak very earnestly to him, telling him with many tears how much I wished that he would let me pray with him. To my unspeakable joy he did not turn away, but replied, 'If it will be a relief to you, do.' I need scarcely say that I fell on my knees and poured out my whole soul to God on his behalf...within a few days he definitely accepted Christ as his Saviour...I have often thought since, in connection with this case and the work of God generally, of the words, 'He that goeth forth weeping, and bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.' Perhaps if there were more of that intense distress for souls that leads to tears, we should more frequently see the results we desire. Sometimes it may be that while we are complaining of the hardness of the hearts of those we are seeking to benefit, the hardness of our own hearts, and our own feeble apprehensions of the solemn reality of eternal things, may be the true cause of our want of success."

Later in the book, Mr. Taylor shares about a Chinese man who drowned because onlookers hesitated to assist and only grudgingly did so after Mr. Taylor agreed to give them all the money he had with him. Mr. Taylor had just shared the gospel with the drowned man, but does not believe the man had yet had a heart change. He writes, "To myself this incident was profoundly sad and full of significance, suggesting a far more mournful reality. Were not those fisherman actually guilty of this poor Chinaman's death? Assuredly they were. And yet, let us pause ere we pronounce judgment against them, lest a greater than Nathan answer, 'Thou art the man.' Is it so hardhearted, so wicked a thing to neglect to save the body? Of how much sorer punishment, then, is he worthy who leaves the soul to perish, and Cain-like says, 'Am I my brother's keeper?'... Let us remember, let us pray for, let us labor for the unevangelized Chinese; or we shall sin against our own souls."

I plan to share more about what I am discovering about joy in Psalms 51, but this joy-evangelism connection was the first thing of which I took note. Dear friends, may I say that I believe the majority of us fail to win many souls to Christ not for lack of opportunity but for lack of joy we should have in our own salvation. May I take that a step further and suggest that our absence of joy comes from a lack of understanding just what a precious Gift we have in Christ. We do not appreciate the awesomeness of the gift, therefore we do not sense urgency in sharing that gift. I am making this a matter of fervent prayer! Stay tuned for more of Psalms 51...

The Shaking and The Shack

If I were to succinctly summarize 2008, I believe "foundation-shaking" would be fitting. I often write about the fact that God has frequently shattered the box, forcing Himself outside of my understanding. For some, the elusive nature of God causes complete disbelief, anger and bitterness. They completely turn away from Him because their understanding of Him and their life experience cause too much dissonance. It's too uncomfortable to see the dissonance through to resolution. For others, it is an invitation to a smorgasbord faith -- picking and choosing those things about Him that are palatable, appealing to the mind and soul. I have had my faith challenged on many levels over the years, as do most women and men who contemplate the spiritual. I have questioned and I have wrestled with the doctrines in which I was trained up. I used to believe there is a specific season in all our lives in which our faith is challenged and forced to be personally defined. Many years into my own discovery of faith, I now know there are many of those seasons in life, perhaps one continuous season... I am reading a book, The Shack, by William Young. Several months ago, before the onset of Josh's illness, it was recommended to me by a couple of friends. Because I was number 600-and-something on the waiting list at our library, I requested this book for Christmas. I didn't know what I was getting into. It is difficult to read. It truly challenges one's image of God. My own image of God has been defined in part by the church, in part by my own wonderful father, and in part by my interpretation of my experiences in light of my understanding of the Bible. I believe to have faith in a God one can fully comprehend would be at best depressing and at worst pointless, a waste of precious time and resources. In spite of that, my quest to understand Him continues. Josh's illness is definitely one of those seasons in which my faith is being severely challenged -- a defining moment, if you will. My response to the challenge is a renewed effort to understand God. It is interesting that I am reading The Shack at this particular season in life. The main character has a peripheral faith in God due to deep scars left from his childhood and, more recently, "the great sadness" of the traumatic loss of a child. His desire to believe in his image of God has forced him to repress anger and bitterness that he believes are sins. Rather than letting those "bad" emotions out and grappling with them, he chooses to keep his faith at a safe distance and ignore the gnawing questions he feels he shouldn't ask. In one weekend, he's forced to asked these forbidden questions. This book and my current challenges are tapping on the walls of my God box once again. The shattering of those walls resonates deep into my spirit, crushing it into millions of pieces. I read in Psalms 24:18 that "The LORD is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart: and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit." I desire that closeness. I am in a perfect position to attain further intimacy. What will I do with it? James 4:6-10, "...he giveth more grace. Wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud and giveth grace unto the humble. Submit yourselves therefore to God...Draw nigh to God and he will draw nigh to you...Be afflicted and mourn, and weep: let your laughter be turned to mourning, and your joy to heaviness. Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up." My heart is broken. My spirit is crushed. Will I proudly turn my back on my faith because God is not logical? Or will I choose to humbly believe His mercy endures forever and His love is pure. Will I choose to go deeper in a relationship with the God I cannot comprehend. Will I allow the season of mourning and affliction to sever or submerge? "I will bless the LORD, who hath given me counsel: my reins also instruct me in the night seasons. I have set the LORD always before me: because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also shall rest in hope...Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fullness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore." (Ps 16:7-9, 11) So let it be.

Light Versus Darkness

From The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom

"...our Bible was the center of an ever-widening circle of help and hope. Like waifs clustered around a blazing fire, we gathered about it, holding out our hearts to its warmth and light. The blacker the night around us grew, the brighter and truer and more beautiful burned the word of God... Life in Ravensbruck took place on two separate levels, mutually impossible. One, the observable, external life, grew every day more horrible. The other, the life we lived with God, grew daily better, truth upon truth, glory upon glory. Sometimes I would slip the Bible from its little sac with hands that shook, so mysterious had it become to me. It was new; it had just been written. I marveled sometimes that the ink was dry. I had believed the Bible always, but reading it now had nothing to do with belief. It was simply a description of the way things were -- of hell and heaven, of how men act and how God acts. I had read a thousand times the story of Jesus' arrest -- how soldiers had slapped Him, laughed at Him, flogged Him. Now such happenings had faces and voices... Fridays --the recurrent humiliation of medical inspection...But it was one of these mornings while we were waiting, shivering, in the corridor, that yet another page in the Bible leapt into life for me...I leaned toward Betsie, ahead of me in line. Her shoulder blades stood out sharp against her blue-mottled skin. 'Betsie, they took His clothes too." Ahead of me I heard a little gasp, "Oh, Corrie. And I never thanked Him. . ."

I honestly cannot put into words the impact this book is making on my heart. I only pray it will translate from my heart into my actions. Could it be the only way to focus solely on The Light is to be completely surrounded by darkness? Yet, anything that is not Truth is darkness. Perhaps it is only when the darkness displaces our comfort we are able to focus on The Light. Is, then, our inability to have total focus due to the fact we become comfortable with a certain amount of darkness? Could this explain a lack of passion even among committed Believers? Oh, that all darkness would displace my comfort and cause me to see only The Light, holding Him up for all to see.