You Need To Tear Back

 

It was the first thought I had this morning, before I'd opened my eyes.

"You need to tear back that sock."

My heart sank.

The sock is one I've had on the needles for months and months.

There is nothing wrong with the sock.

It was beautifully knitted, and I was nearly to the toe.

It is a second sock, which means the first one has been finished 

and waiting for its mate for some time.

 

The problem is this: I knitted the first with a good plan. 

These socks would have reinforced heels and toes.

These socks are for me.

The yarn is wonderful: I love it.

The first one was finished easily, and it is perfect.

 

I was eager to begin the second sock, so I could wear them.

I knitted away busily during piano lessons, 

which is a wonderful way to make efficient (and pleasurable) use of my time. 

I knitted so busily I neglected to put the reinforcement yarn into the heel, 

and I didn't notice until I was well on my way to the toe.

I held the two socks in my hands, and felt the heels, and thought, "NO!"

 

The heels were different.

One is nice and cushy (and far more durable), and the other is nice and thin.

I laid the sock aside.

 

Periodically I pulled it out and looked at it sadly.

I considered attempting duplicate stitch darning on it 

to simulate the same effect, 

but I knew in my heart it wasn't going to be a solution for me. 

So I ignored it.

"I'm not changing ANYTHING!" my heart said, stiffening its neck.

And we just didn't talk about it or think about it anymore.

Sometimes I missed knitting on it, 

and the hope of owning the socks I had been working on with such anticipation.

But why should I lose all that work? 

The work was flawless.

It was the other sock that had a problem with it.

 

And it was this sock I sensed the Lord telling me to rip back this morning, 

before I was even awake to defend it,

and weeks after I had even thought about it.

I opened my eyes knowing I had a task to accomplish today.

A painful task, but a necessary one. 

Something I didn't want to do.

I had actually wondered to myself if I had enough of this yarn on hand 

to knit two more, just to avoid doing what I knew I needed to do.

But I had an order.

 

So, while I sat in my daughter's piano lesson, 

I frogged my perfect knitting in order to conform it to its mate.

It took me the full half hour to do it, 

and to get it put neatly back on the needles, 

carefully checking each stitch for twists, and correcting them.

Hours of knitting lost as I pulled back each row of two thirds of my sock.

 

And my mind has been working on it all day:

On the necessity of our conformity to Christ, our True Mate.

On the pruning back of what does not fit Him.

There are many things in each one of us 

that do not conform to His heart, His attitude, or His actions, 

and He will not leave them alone in us.

He's not going to settle for a slapdash fix.

He will undo us to set us right.

And all those hours of perfecting ourselves 

will have to be undone in order to make us truly His handiwork.

Give Him free reign to do it.

The sooner you stop fighting Him, 

the sooner you'll be fit for His use again.

"For whom He foreknew, 

He also predestined 

to be conformed to the image of His Son, 

that He might be the firstborn among many brethren."

(Romans 8:29)

"For our citizenship is in heaven, 

from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior, 

the Lord Jesus Christ, 

who will transform our lowly body 

that it may be conformed to His glorious body, 

according to the working by which 

He is able even to subdue all things to Himself."

(Philippians 3:20,21) 

 

"Beloved, now we are children of God;

and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be,

but we know that when He is revealed,

we shall be like Him,

for we shall see Him as He is.

And everyone who has this hope in Him

purifies himself, just as He is pure."

(1 John 3:2,3) 

 

And so I ask you: 

is there anything He is asking you to rip back 

that it might be made to conform to His purpose?

Tearing Back

The Olive May Fail

 “Though the fig tree 

may not blossom,

Nor fruit be on the vines;

Though the labor 

of the olive may fail,

And the fields yield no food;

Though the flock 

may be cut off from the fold,

And there be no herd 

in the stalls--

Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,

I will joy 

in the God of my salvation.

The LORD God 

is my strength;

He will make my feet 

like deer’s feet,

And He will make me walk 

on my high hills.”

A number of years ago, at the beginning of a one year time period that was one of our worst years — a time of severe and long-lasting pain for me that held no end in sight — a physically miserable, emotionally devastating year filled with tests and imaging and surgery and a long recovery, I went to a pastors’ wives retreat. At the retreat, the Lord gave me a song. I had not yet walked through what was coming. And I knew I would be walking through something. 

“The joy of the Lord 

will be my strength

I will not falter, 

I will not faint

He is my Shepherd, 

I am not afraid

The joy of the Lord 

is my strength

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord 

is my strength

The joy of the Lord 

will be my strength

He will uphold me 

all of my days

I am surrounded 

by mercy and grace

And the joy of the Lord 

is my strength

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord 

is my strength

The joy of the Lord 

will be my strength

And I will not waiver, 

walking by faith

He will be strong 

to deliver me safe

And the joy of the Lord 

is my strength

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord

The joy of the Lord 

is my strength”

You can be suffering pain, uncertainty, lack of resources, loss of relationships, and so many other miseries AND still be surrounded by His mercy and grace. I did not know if I would physically survive that year. And some days I turned my face to the wall and just laid there, heart open in wordless pain to the Lord. I fretted that my children would be motherless, and my husband widowed. And then I trusted them to Him who loves them better than me. I sat in a chair much of that year. 

And the Lord sustained me. He delivered me. He walked the valley with me, and brought me out again. 

You might think I don’t like hearing that song anymore. But you’d be wrong. 

When I hear it, and when I sing it, I remember how the Lord helped me endure when I couldn’t endure. How He gave me courage and taught me to trust Him when my prayers felt like they fell to the floor. How it isn’t abundant circumstances that give us abundant life. 

The joy of the Lord is my strength.

On Visible Mending and the Handiwork of God

A skirt I made from a vintage tablecloth
caught on something while my daughter wore it,
and a big, 90 degree tear resulted.
I thought about letting the work of my hands go, but it bothered me.
The tablecloth had been stained, and had holes in it when I found it.
I had carefully cut around some of the leaves in the border,
and applique-patched them over the holes.
I dyed the skirt a soft gray, which hid the stains.
I liked how I had taken an object that could not be used as it was created,
and repaired and restored and remade it
into what I thought was a lovely garment.
Now it was torn, and the tear was not able to be hidden.
I have heard my whole life that if a seam tears, you can repair it.
But this wasn't a seam.
It was ruined.

I set it aside for weeks, not willing to toss it,
but not knowing exactly how to fix it.
The cloth I made it from was long gone.
There was nothing to patch it with.

One day, looking for an embroidery project for a friend,
I came across visible mending on Pinterest.
Oh, my!
People were doing this on purpose, and loving the mended project
even more than something new and pristine.

I pulled the skirt back out, and sat down to make it useful again.
Instead of trying to hide my repair,
and pretend the damage had never been done,
I used embroidery floss with its subtle shine,
and stitched far more stitches than were necessary for usefulness,
enjoying every one.
That particular rip would not likely rip again.
When I finished, somehow I loved this handiwork
even more than I had loved it before.

I looked the skirt over, and found a couple of worn places
and a small hole I'd not noticed before.
I added a spiral of stitches over a worn place.
An embroidered rose to fill a small hole.
I'm too invested in this fabric now to toss it lightly aside.
I'd rather repair it.
Restore it.
Redeem it.

The useful has become a work of creativity and art.
A poetry of stitches instead of an exercise book sentence.
A painted portrait instead of a police sketch.
This shows the soul of the image -- not just its hair color and mouth shape.

This morning I was reading Nehemiah 9:17:
"[They] refused to obey, 
neither were mindful of Thy wonders that Thou didst among them; 
but hardened their necks, 
and in their rebellion appointed a captain to return to their bondage: 
but Thou art a God ready to pardon, 
gracious and merciful, 
slow to anger, 
and of great kindness, 
and forsookest them not."

I looked up several words, but it was that last phrase that arrested me.
He forsookest them not.
He didn't leave them.
He didn't depart from them.
He didn't leave them behind, let them alone, abandon them or neglect them.
He didn't let them loose, set them free, or let them go.
They were not deserted.
All those things come under the first meaning of the word.
There was a second meaning.
To restore, repair.

"For we are His workmanship, 
created in Christ Jesus for good works, 
which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them."
(Ephesians 2:10) 

Oh Lord -- I am so full of torn places --
stains and holes. 
My flaws are all in the body of the fabric, not the seams.
Don't let me go.
Repair and restore me. 

But He does more.
He makes beautiful things -- stitches art into our mending.
We are His workmanship, the Scripture says.
Poema.
His creativity repairs us uniquely.
In places, His handiwork becomes far more visible
than the original fabric was,
His stitches the only thing holding any of it together.
Where we are stitched will not match anyone else's repairs.
Unique to our flaws, His creativity, and the material at hand,
each one becomes a newly-made creative expression in His overall masterpiece.
We are all worked into the whole.
Maybe you've thought of yourself as the worst patch.
But He repairs, remakes, restores --
and places you into the whole
as a trophy of His love and creativity.

Tell Every Trembler

"God has been faithful to you.
Tell it to your children. 
Tell them God will save sinners when they come to Him, 
for He saved you... 
Tell them He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins 
if we confess them to Him, 
and to save us from all unrighteousness, 
for He forgave you. 
Tell every trembler you meet with 
that Jesus will in no wise cast out any that come to Him.
Tell all seekers that if they seek, they will find, 
and that to everyone who knocks, 
the door of mercy will be opened. 
Tell the most despondent and despairing 
that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, 
even the very chief..."
(C.H. Spurgeon, The Practice of Praise)

Sometimes the trembler I meet with is the one in my mirror.

Therefore I Have Hope

I opened my Facebook this morning
and saw one of those things
posted by Christian friends with good intentions,
hoping to stir up in you the perfect parent
and thus lead your family into a state of unmatched perfect outcomes,
never yet seen in the world.
That was how it felt, anyway.

Don't forget: everything depends on you.
If you fail to be perfect in parenting,
husbanding,
wife-ing,
and general citizenry,
all is lost,
and your children will lead the next pagan revival.

Honestly I didn't even read the post.
I have enough anxiety about my performance,
and the results of my performance
without reading it.
Maybe it was a truly helpful post.
But its title looked unbearably guilt-trippy and depressing to me.

And when a child in my house informed me this morning
that I 'was bearing false witness against them!' 
by requesting that the pan cupboard be straightened up,
knowing that particular child
had shoved everything into it topsy-turvy in a haze of daydreaming,
I lost my temper.

The bickering between this one and one other has worn me down.
I am tired of hearing pointless arguments
and contradictions without cause.
And snotty little comments made to provoke tears.
And denials of reality when reality is that the child is a space cadet,
and walks around putting things in odd places,
whether the places and actions are remembered or not.
And it was the last straw.

I did not bake some cookies to correct the misinformed little soul.
I failed to keep my cool.
And probably ruined all future hope of happiness and prosperity for the child.
Maybe of Christianity, too.
Although I did apologize,
and the child apologized,
and we hugged one another and forgave one another.

It says that if your brother has something against you,
go to him and be reconciled.
It doesn't say,
"If your brother has something against you,
you are obviously damned
because Christians never do wrong by each other,
and don't need to ask forgiveness of each other."

It isn't our perfection that sharpens one another, I think.
I think that where it says,
"As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another,"
it's more about friction than lubrication.
Sometimes I wish there was less to sharpen in me.

My husband texted me, "Broken people beget broken people.
If it wasn't for the Lord, what would we do?
He is strong.
He will hold us up."

Feeling like a jerk, I sat down and looked over a few blogs,
hoping to glean a little grace.
And my eyes fell on one of my favorites,
which was quoting a Scripture yesterday:
"This I recall to my mind,
therefore I have hope:
The Lord's lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,
for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness."

And it's from Lamentations -- a bit of grace in itself.
'Compassions' are multiple.
'Lovingkindnesses' are multiple.
Unfailing.
Unceasing.
New every morning.
And strangely enough, though I am a Christian,
I need them again today.
Maybe you do, too.

There is reason to hope.
Though my lovingkindnesses stopped with six words said to me,
and my compassion probably didn't even get out of bed this morning,
His was new again, as ever.
And His faithfulness is great.

Have mercy on us sinners, Lord,
and sanctify our dirt-born lives.

In Among the Ruined

Main Street, Beit Shean

 

Wherever He went --

in villages, cities, or the countryside --

they brought the sick out to the marketplaces.

They begged Him to let the sick

touch at the least the fringe of His robe,

and all who touched Him were healed.

~ From Mark 6

It's a true story.

But Jesus told another about a man who'd been accosted 

and left bleeding on a road. 

On a road with plenty of space 

for the 'holy' men to cross to the other side 

before they became unclean with the touch of bleeding death.

Unlike those men, our Jesus waded in among the ruined.

He let His clothes and Himself be grasped at by the desperate;

by the ones dragged and carried to Him;

the ones who limped to Him;

and the ones who crawled along the way,

trying to stay out from under the trampling feet of the healthy.

There were, I am sure, those who had earned their misery.

They had done what ought not to have been done,

and were suffering in themselves the due penalty for their sins.

And there were those who had been sinned against by others,

or failed in some way by those who ought to have been more careful.

He was a magnet for them all.

For the broken and the damaged.

The ones forbidden from the sanctuary.

The ones forbidden from society.

The fringe of His robe would be where the dirt collected.

Where the dust of His feet was kicked up in a cloud.

Maybe I can touch some of the dirt that touched Him. 

I waited patiently for the Lord to help me,

and He turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the pit of despair,

out of the mud and the mire.

He set my feet on solid ground

and steadied me as I walked along.

He has given me a new song to sing,

a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see what He has done and be amazed. 

They will put their trust in the Lord.

~From Psalm 40

I was so foolish and ignorant;

I was like a beast before You.

Nevertheless I am continually with You;

You hold me by my right hand.

You will guide me with Your counsel,

and afterward receive me to glory.

~ From Psalm 73

Phenomenally Bright: Can Barely Write Three Words

Through the encouragement of a friend
who is a speech language pathologist,
we decided to have our son tested for a learning disability.
We are nearly done with the process.

The test results have been surprising in several ways.
His strengths are 'phenomenal', according to the psychologist.
In fact, in the reading vocabulary results from one test,
they put him down as being age equivalent to a 48 year old.
He had a greater than 99.9% score.
I wonder if that is a typo.
He is ten.
He has the writing abilities of a six year old.
In academic knowledge, they say he is twenty, and a college freshman.
But he processes slowly.

It has been nerve-wracking for me as a homeschooling mom
to allow them to measure his education.
I don't have a school I can blame for academic failure.
On the psychoeducational report, and the special services report,
under relevant background information,
it is noted that he is home schooled and always has been.
There is a federal checklist they have to go down
to determine if he is eligible for services.
Does the child have a demonstrated need? Yes.
Is the low output due to low intelligence? No.
Is the low output due to inadequate instruction?
I felt like I was holding my breath as they went over this question with me.
Has it been enough?
Am I failing him miserably?
I didn't realize I was going to have to sit there
with a school administrator, a psychologist,
and a special education provider
and hear the answer to this question.
They told me they saw no evidence that he had been inadequately instructed.
That he had a very broad knowledge base.
Their educations between them probably add up to more than my age.
And they said the need was not due to lack of instruction.

The psychologist told me, "He has the mind of an engineer".
I knew that.
He draws intricate drawings with gears and levers and closeups of the details.
He can look at an object, spin it mentally, and draw it from multiple angles.
When he was two and a half,
he drew his first recognizable drawing: a many-windowed Jeep.
My other children scribbled.
As a still very small child,
he was drawing three dimensional vehicles in 3/4 view.
But he still writes letters and numbers backward.
I taught him to crochet a chain when he was seven.
He woke up early and crocheted a mitten.
With a thumb.
No pattern.
No skill beyond that simple chain had been taught to him.
Was it beautiful? No.
But it was functional.

He told them that he usually thinks of things in colors.
His mind makes different connections than the average person.
I feel my job as his mom
is to make sure he has the basic skills he needs
to allow his gifts to operate.

Why the 'areas of weakness', as the psychologist refers to them?
Because he pulled himself to standing at six months old
and started cruising the furniture within the week
and slipped and twirled in slow motion
just out of reach and too fast to catch
and hit the side of his head on the corner of the coffee table
and screamed like we had never heard him scream 
and while I held him and rocked and didn't know what to do 
his dad said, "What's wrong with his head?"
and I yelled, "There's nothing wrong with his head! 
What do you mean 'what's wrong with his head?'!"
and I looked at his head, and his skull was dented in
and we called my mom to ask for prayer
and grabbed the diaper bag and ran to the car 
to make the half hour drive to the emergency room
while he cried beside me in the backseat
and I cried too
and I prayed
and fifteen minutes in he stopped crying
and the amateur doctor questioned us closely
wanting to know when he really hit his head
because the CT scan showed 'an old injury'
and he said it would be swollen if it was new
and it wasn't swollen
but it was red
and they said he was fine 
and we knew the Lord had given him to us
but the dent took over four years to grow out?

Or is it because 
every time he had immunizations he spiked a fever of over 105 
and got double ear infections 
and that one time had a seizure but I didn't know it was a seizure
and thought he was being a freak 
and if I had known I would have brought him to the hospital
and reported an adverse event
and probably chewed out his doctor
but I hadn't done any research at that point and didn't know any better
and why didn't I look into it more before he was injected?

Or maybe when he tripped and fell in the fire ring 
and hit his head on the rock 
and I dragged him up the stairs to the bathroom 
to wash the blood away
and his knees buckled and I caught him
and he was so dazed he couldn't answer straight questions
and I watched him with worry to see if he was brain damaged
he was really brain damaged?
But that doesn't even make any sense 
because he already had trouble writing years before that
and I think I was a slow processor and probably still am
and it's more likely it was the vaccines.
And the dented head.
And I was vaccinated, too.
So maybe the slow processing is both genetic and environmental.
Both my fault and not my fault.

But what if he was brilliant in every single area
and I couldn't teach him anything,
and he was an insufferable ass
to everyone he met his entire life?
Weaknesses can be mercies.
Paul said, "that I should not be exalted overmuch,
there was given to me a thorn in the flesh,
a messenger of Satan to buffet me,
that I should not be exalted overmuch."
God's strength is made perfect in weakness.
His grace is sufficient for us.
His power is made perfect in weakness.
It was when Jesus needed water that He impacted the Samaritans.
In getting help He gave it.
In asking He offered Himself.

We're in a new community,
and we've met several people through this we would not have met,
and I have been praying
and wondering how to be a part of the community.
Maybe this is our introduction.

The Beauty That It Is

When my husband and I went to Israel, 
the tour guide reported to us that the weather forecast was hot and dry 
for the entire time we were going to be there. 
In February. 
It is supposed to be the rainy season. 
Of course, we tourists were delighted.
We had come from a cold winter.
But the guide said it was bad news for the people who lived there.
They needed rain.

Rain.
Why do we complain about it? 
Liquid water is so necessary to our existence that without it we die.
Our crops fail.
Our forests burn.
Our land withers up and blows away.
But we only want it when it isn't given.

See it for the beauty that it is. 
And use it for restful meditation. 
Rain is one of the mercies of God, 
sent on the just and the unjust alike. 
It ought to remind us to be kind as He is kind
to those who love us, and those who don't.
To forgive.
To provide nourishment.

My husband bought me a rain barrel last week.
I have been waiting for this rain to drip from my gutters into my barrel,
so that when the sun shines, 
I can water my plants with His mercy.

Good News!

Are you among those who are alienated from God?
An enemy in your mind because of wicked works? 

Your sins made the list of redeemable offences against God.

They were paid for by the blood of Jesus,
and faith in Him wipes out the list of charges against you.

Amnesty.
Reconciliation is offered through the body of His flesh through death.
You, too, Alienated Enemy, Worker of Wickedness,
can be presented holy and blameless and above reproach in His sight.

"And you,
being dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh,
He has made alive together with Him,
having forgiven you all trespasses,
having wiped out the handwriting of requirements that was against us,
which was contrary to us.
And He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross."

Now wouldn't you like to shout?

Before the Face of the Lord

"Now his father Zacharias was filled with the Holy Spirit,
and prophesied, saying:
'Blessed is the Lord God of Israel,
for He has visited and redeemed His people, 
and has raised up a horn of salvation for us
in the house of His servant David...
That we should be saved from our enemies
and from the hand of all who hate us,
to perform the mercy promised to our fathers
and to remember His holy covenant,
the oath which He swore to our father Abraham:
to grant us that we,
being delivered from the hand of our enemies,
might serve Him without fear,
in holiness and righteousness before Him all the days of our life.

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Highest;
for you will go before the face of the Lord to prepare His ways,
to give knowledge of salvation to His people
by the remission of their sins,
through the tender mercy of our God,
with which the Dayspring from on high has visited us;
to give light to those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.'"
~ From Luke 1

Personally, I love to read the prophecies spoken of His work,
of the Father's heart of mercy
and peace
and salvation
and love
and reconciliation
and good will toward men.
Oh, how it moves me.
For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son.
And we mark our history by it.
All  the fullness of the Godhead bodily dwelling in Him.

How?!
How could He contain His glory in a dirt-body?
To be ministered to by sinners?
To be the visible show of God's requirements fulfilled,
the voice of His love to us,
the touch of the Father to the poor.
To the sinner.
To the leper.
To the lame and blind and to the women.
To the 'racially impure' Samaritans.
A friend to fishermen.
To tax collectors and zealots.
The political radicals and the cautious theologians.
The ruined whores of society.
He restored them all.
He put His calloused hands on the contagious outcasts,
and He stretched them out Himself on the cross.

And Who Is My Neighbor?

Yesterday at church we sang a song that included this:
"Praise to the lamb that was slain
Praise to the Father who gave His son away
The proof of love, the price of grace
You traded all to take my place
And died for me so I can be a child of God"

And I pondered Him.
That when Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was, He answered,
"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, 
and with all thy soul, 
and with all thy mind. 
This is the great and first commandment. 
And a second is like it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. 
On these two commandments the whole law hangs, and the prophets."

And then of course, the question from our representative of mankind, "And who is my neighbor?"

Have you ever thought about how the Father saw His enemies?
That seeing our condition --
our blasphemous iniquity,
our adulterous fidelity,
and our religious hypocrisy --
that He gave His Son away in order that we might be saved.

The Father did not write the Law, so much as He is the Law.
The Law reveals His nature.
He gave His Son because He is the Law.
The Law demands justice, and the Law commands love.
And He is both.
He is the justice of God, and the love of God.

All His motivations in His dealings with men fulfill that which we cannot fulfill.
Love your enemies.
Do good to those who hate you.
Bless those who curse you.
Pray for those who despitefully use you.
Do unto others what you would have them do to you.
Give to those who ask of you.
If your enemy is hungry, feed him. If he's thirsty, give him a drink.

Jesus said, "If you have seen me, you've seen the Father."
And consider what we see when we look at Him --
a man who was reviled without reviling again;
a man praying for his persecutors;
a man feeding hungry people;
giving to those who asked of Him;
touching the untouchables;
who forgives not seven times, but seventy times seven;
whose obedience to the Father was unto death;
whose love for His brethren was until the end.

The Father gave His Son.
His Beloved Son, in Whom He is well-pleased.
Would I give my son for my enemy?
Not likely.
I would sacrifice my enemy for my son.

But not Him.
He loves His neighbor, and His neighbor is His enemy.
And He valued His enemy with the same value as Himself --
giving up His most precious possession to buy back haters.
And I was His enemy.

When He Trusts

"Whosoever cometh unto Him, He will in no wise cast out.
Though dishonest as the thief,
though unchaste as the woman who was a sinner,
though fierce as Saul of Tarsus,
though cruel as Manasseh,
though rebellious as the prodigal,
the great heart of love will look upon the man who feels himself to have no soundness in him,
and will pronounce him clean,
when he trusts in Jesus crucified."
~C.H. Spurgeon, Morning and Evening, September 29

Yet I Will Not Forget You

"Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth; 
and break out into singing, O mountains; 
for the Lord has comforted His people, 
and will have mercy on His afflicted. 

"But Zion said, Jehovah has forsaken me, 
and my LORD has forgotten me. 

"Can a woman forget her suckling child, 
that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? 

"Yes, they may forget, yet I will not forget you.
Behold, I have carved you on the palms of My hands; 
your walls are forever before Me."

~Isaiah 49:13-16

To Meet Every

A song came to mind this morning as I listened to the birds while I read and prayed. The song is from Lamentations, and I learned it when I was small.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases
His mercies never shall come to an end
They are new every morning
New every morning
Great is Thy faithfulness, O Lord --
Great is Thy faithfulness

I turned to Lamentations because I intended to just share that verse. I looked it up on eSword to pick a version to share. And my attention was arrested as I looked a little earlier in the passage. I did not intend to say anything on this subject, but it's in the text, and it astounds me. Look at this:

"And thou hast removed my soul far off from peace: I forgat prosperity.
And I said, My strength and my hope hath perished from the LORD:
Remembering my affliction and my misery, 
the wormwood and the gall.
My soul hath them still in remembrance, 
and is humbled in me.
This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.
It is of the LORD'S mercies that we are not consumed, 
because his compassions fail not.
They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.
The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; 
therefore will I hope in him.
The LORD is good to them that wait for him, 
to the soul that seeketh him.
It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait 
for the salvation of the LORD."

He says he had no strength and no hope.
One of the versions I read said 'my hope in the Lord is gone'.
It seems almost blasphemous.
But this man could remember only his affliction, his misery,
wormwood and gall.
His lot was bitter and poisonous and painful.
It was so horrible he lost all hope.
And in that place, the Lord's mercy reached him.
Because His compassions fail not.
They are new every morning.
To meet every bitter expectation,
Every painful affliction,
Every miserable grief.
He is faithful.
If He is my portion, there is hope.
The Lord is good to those who wait for Him --
To the soul that seeks Him.

And I can't help but remember this:

"All these died in faith,
not having received the promises,
but having seen them afar off
were assured of them,
embraced them
and confessed that they were strangers 
and pilgrims on the earth.
For those who say such things
declare plainly that they seek a homeland."
~Hebrews 11:13

Comfort Overflows

 A hundred times or more I've read it. But this morning, I noticed it.

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the Father of compassion
and God of all comfort,
who comforts us..."

Another version says 'the Father of mercies'. But the Father of compassion. Do you recognize God in that title?

So often, when we are devastated, we let Satan define Him for us. Or we let pain define Him for us. We let other people's sins and failures define Him for us.

'He wasn't kind -- God is not kind.'
'He isn't fair -- God isn't fair.'
'I'm suffering -- God doesn't care.'

But He is the Father of compassion.

It goes on to say a few verses later: "For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows."

Bless the Lord,
the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the Father of compassion,
the God of all comfort,
who also comforts us.

I don't understand all the whys. But I'm thankful for the comfort.

Grief and Mercy

One of the most precious scenes in the Gospels to me is the one where Jesus comes to His friends in their grief. Several times it says that Jesus loved Martha and her sister Mary, and Lazarus.

And it tells us He didn't come when He heard Lazarus was sick. After Lazarus died, Jesus said to His disciples, "Nevertheless, let us go to him."

I love this story for its truth. For the real grief the sisters had. For the honest outbursts. And for Jesus' response to their grief.

It says when He saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her weeping, He groaned in the spirit and was troubled.
And Jesus wept.

I have heard the people who invalidate grief say that He was weeping for their unbelief.
He was not!

The New Testament says to weep with those who weep. And it isn't over their lack of faith. It's what love does.

'Beloved, let us love one another.'
Love weeps, too.
It doesn't say, "Suck it up, wimp."
It brings out the tissues, and sits down to cry. 

We do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses,
but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.
We can come to the throne of grace -- because He has grace.
He is grace.
He'll give mercy.

Our High Priest lets our sicknesses and our griefs and our pain touch Him. And I love Him for it.

Because He Delights

The tombstone says: Perpetual Care

"Who is a God like You,
pardoning iniquity
and passing over the transgression
of the remnant of His heritage?
He does not retain His anger forever,
because He delights in mercy.
He will again have compassion on us,
and will subdue our iniquities.
You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea."
~Micah 7:18-19

Because He delights in mercy.

"He has shown you, O man,
what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
But to do justly,
and to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with your God?"
~Micah 6:8

We ought to delight in it, too.

Thoughts on the Suicide of a Believer

Personally, I have been thinking a lot about the heart of God, which He Himself has told us is the heart of a shepherd toward His sheep, and a Father towards His children.

I've been contemplating the mercy Jesus showed toward those who died, whose families grieved, toward the children who threw themselves in the fire.

Jesus said sick people need a doctor, not healthy people. He has a doctor's heart, too.

According to the scripture, if you believe on the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, you will be saved.

It only took one look at the serpent on the pole in Exodus for the plague to be healed. Just one look.

Jesus said all manner of sins would be forgiven men, except the sin of blasphemy of the Holy Spirit. ALL manner of sins? That's what He said. I am stunned at the magnanimousness of what He said. But He plainly showed while He was here on earth that He did in fact have the authority to forgive sins, to the anger and disgust of the Pharisees.

The scripture says that all who call on the name of the Lord will be saved. It doesn't say 'all fit persons who have their lives together and call on the name of the Lord'.

To quote some of the old hymn Come Ye Sinners Poor and Needy:

Let not conscience make you linger
Nor of fitness fondly dream
All the fitness He requireth
Is to feel your need of Him

I take comfort myself in the character of Christ. Jesus said, "If you've seen me, you've seen the Father."

He is the fulfillment of the all the law and the prophets, not us. He fulfilled every jot and every tittle of both the righteous requirements of the law, and of the suffering the consequences of the breaking of the law, which we are ALL guilty of. In Him, all the promises of God are 'yes' and 'amen'.

Heaven is not offered to us based on our works, but on His works. The law was written so that all men everywhere would recognize their failure to fulfill it. And He said, "I have come that they may have life, and that more abundantly."

When Jesus was asked 'What must I do to work the works of God?'
He answered, 'Believe on the One whom He sent.'