He gives rest

“Late have I loved you, beauty so old and so new: late have I loved you.  And see, you were within and I was in the external world and sought you there, and my unlovely state I plunged into those lovely created things which you made.  You were with me, and I was not with you.  The lovely things kept me far from you, though if they did not have their existence in you, they had no existence at all.  You called and cried out loud and shattered my deafness.  You were radiant and resplendent, you put to flight my blindness.  You were fragrant, and I drew in my breath and now pant after you.  I tasted you, and I feel but hunger and thirst for you.  You touched me, and I am set on fire to attain the peace which is yours.”

- Augustine

Sitting at the window, watching ruffled water, light, blue sky. This place is beautiful. My heart stills. Reading on Hebrews this morning, the history and facts, yes, but the glorious realities of a high Priest who took our place, of a Father who sought and provided atonement, of a people ransomed for God, given faith by the Spirit. The pages turn and I’m not counting, just savoring. The minutes pass, and I hold this moment, willing it to slow, to stay. I know it will pass. It already has. But this is the rhythm of life, the movement of time and place in His hand. Yet I pause, I revel, and I delight in the goodness of my God.

He’s taught me much over these past months—mostly when I wasn’t looking for it and altogether prone to charge on along my own way. The beauty of it all is that He changes me, changes those around me; that He’s renewing us, remaking us, restoring us to the divine image. The realization of this has been the dawn of new hope. If He is at work in every place at every time, I need not fear the outcome, the conversation, or the person. He will not fail to complete the work He has begun, and it is good. He gives us Himself. Christ stands as the perfect image of His Father, and this One to whom we are united reveals to us who we will one day be.

“’Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.’ Biblical faith can claim a confidence beyond one’s own experience because it rests in the character of God, of which there is nothing more certain and constant. . . Because of God’s trustworthy character, we can live our lives today acting on the promises he gives us in his Word.

– Karen Jobes

This alone is the source of a mighty spring. As I become more aware of the world around in all its sickness, as I come face to face with the stuff that makes hopeless cynics, that drive unnumbered to despair, I cling to the truth that He rules. All things flow and run to the end of His glory, and this will one day shine forth for all to see. Daily, hourly, when I come face to face with the depravity of my own heart, when I am horrified at my own thoughts and reactions, when I forget grace and trade in for lesser things, it has increasingly become the prayer of my heart that not only would He look to Christ for my righteousness, but that He would make me look like Christ. He has promised this to me, His child, and not one of the good things He promises falls to the ground. Joshua said it centuries ago, it is no less true for me today.

“His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and goodness. Through these He has given us His very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.” 

– 2 Peter 1.3-4

If He is in the business of remodeling me, and if all trials are meant to make me more dependent on Him and to see Christ as more beautiful, than the possibilities of the future lose their fierce aspect. I’ve grown up reading about men and women who have died for the faith, and their stories have captivated me. I haven’t stopped reading, and as this world darkens and persecution increases, His church is sore pressed on every side. All the while, this question burns in my mind—could I endure like they do? Could I go through losing a husband? Could I raise children in the shadow of death? The Psalmist feared no ill. He is present here; there with them. Then again, I often get it backwards. The words read, “If anyone serves Me, he must follow Me; and where I am, there will My servant be also. If anyone serves Me, the Father will honor him.”

“The more man progresses in sanctification, the more clearly he will aim for the glory of God in all his activity. His initiative proceeds from love for God, the fear of God, and obedient submission to the will of the sovereign and only majestic Lord. To be thus stimulated is to be stimulated by the objective of glorifying God. For in this alone there is an acknowledgment of God‘s perfections and a manifestation of this acknowledgment. And if the glorification of God has reference to other people, it is one‘s aim to be led to know, love, and fear God—and acknowledge Him by his words and deeds; that is, declare what manner of God the Lord is.”  

– Wilhelmus A’ Brakel

I know the answer, still I fear. I fear my weakness, my flesh, my wandering heart. But He promised to take care of me, as well as my circumstances. The safest place to be is in the center of His will, and in that center He guides, strengthens, equips. As there is no bullet or the sickness or the flogging outside His will, I need not fear that my heart will become a maverick.

It’s that truth I’ve known so long sinking deeper still, maybe finally getting to my core. He gives His children grace for everything to which He calls them. The wives in Syria losing their husbands—they are carried and preserved in His comfort. The Iranian pastor taken from His family—Christ bears Him up. The Iraqi refugees who have lost house and home—He has not and will never forsake them nor leave them without His presence. To orphans, Christ is all. To the Suffering Servant, doing the will of His Father was better than food.

“As for me, if I stumble, the mercies of God shall be my eternal salvation. If I stagger because of the sin of my flesh, my justification shall be by the righteousness of God which endures forever.”

– Dead Sea Scrolls

As hard as it is for me to believe, my life here and now, amid comfort, prosperity, safety, is the training ground for whatever He brings in my future. My worry about coming days reveals a doubt of His faithfulness, a reek of distrust that I am ashamed to admit. He has put me here, just as He has put other children in countries which hate the gospel. Because He rules as King, and because He has placed His love on me, I know this is perfect—planned—same as every moment to come. He is teaching me the will to persevere, to live confident today, at peace with tomorrow. This is a truth on which I can hang my life.

“The gospel is the one great permanent circumstance in which I live and love; and every hardship in my life is allowed by God only because it serves His gospel purposes in me.  When I view my circumstances in this light, I realize that the gospel is not just one piece of good news that fits into my life somewhere among all the bad.  I realize instead that the gospel makes genuinely good news out of every other aspect of my life, including my severest trials.  The good news about my trials is that God is forcing them to bow to His gospel purposes and do good unto me by improving my character and making me more conformed to the image of Christ.”

–Milton Vincent

I’ve been reading Jeremiah Burroughs’ book The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment, taking small pieces every morning with Isaiah, the Psalms, and Hebrews. It’s been a case in point of what He does, as strings of thought weave together with books, music, conversations, classes; aspects connect, light bulbs go on, circuits connect. He teaches my heart, my mind, and I’m in awe at what He does despite me. As I read Burroughs, my own distrust of God and my love of this world has become apparent. This Puritan (as most others) puts things bluntly, and he makes no excuses for what the Bible teaches or for how our hearts twist the best things. He is bold about the holiness to which we are called as those ransomed and redeemed.

“Our self-image as Christians, therefore, must not be static but dynamic. The believer may never be satisfied with himself or herself. He or she must always be pressing on, in the strength of Christ, toward the goal of Christian perfection. Christians should see themselves as new persons who are being progressively renewed by the Holy Spirit.”

– Anthony Hoekema

He sets a high bar, one I know I cannot attain. Then I remember—He works. It’s incontrovertible: we will encounter hardship and trial. Yet He gives us all we need to endure, to hope against hope, to come out on the other side praising His name and radiant because of His goodness. Christ is our all, and that fact alone bears us up and shines as a light in the darkest, coldest, loneliest night of the soul. This, then, is that quiet, gentle spirit which in God’s sight is so precious. Apparently I’m supposed to be cultivating this, but I don’t think I’ve really known what sort of plant it was till recently.

“It cannot be the case, almighty God, that your hand is not strong enough to cure all the sicknesses of my soul and, by a more abundant outflow of your grace, to extinguish the lascivious impulses of my sleep.  You will more and more increase your gifts in me, Lord, so that my soul, rid of the glue of lust, may follow me to you, so that it is not in rebellion against itself.”

- Augustine

As He’s brought these pieces together over the past months, I’ve grown in contentment. These realities have freed me in more ways than I know—every time I turn around different implications become apparent. Several people I know have commented that I’m different, and it surprised me. Yet I can’t say I don’t know what happened. My own growth in holiness rests in His care, because the Spirit is the Builder on this project. Those I love most stand in His love no less than I, and He will act and work on their behalf no less than He has so faithfully in mine. I, they—we are sanctified, sustained, satisfied by His grace alone, and it will never fail.

“My entire hope is exclusively in your very great mercy.  Grant what you command, and command what you will. . . He loves you less who together with you loves something which he does not love for your sake. O love, you ever burn and are never extinguished.  O charity, my God, set me on fire.  You command continence; grant what you command, and command what you will.”

- Augustine

As much as I’ve always desired companionship, love, close relationship, He alone holds intimate knowledge of my heart with all its complexities and corners, and He alone can fill it to overflowing. Inside this love is the love of friends, and there may one day be a deeper love. Yet I know now that this is sufficient, that He is enough, that should I lose all friendship or be alone forever, His presence would be near, and it would not be second-best.

I’ve felt a deep quiet descend on my soul as I stake my claim in these truths. I know it is His work alone, for He has called and awakened me out of death, breathed the Spirit into me, and called me to run in His love. My heart clings to Christ, for in Him my soul delights, and in His presence alone are pleasures forevermore. The Word is my lifeblood. Every day He speaks truth to me in the face of whatever odd, wrong, sinful things I have exchanged for the truth.

The assurance has grown sweet—that He knows me.

“Come Lord, stir us up and call us back, kindle and seize us, be our fire and our sweetness. Let us love, let us run.”

- Augustine