Who is mighty like You, O Lord? Your faithfulness also surrounds You. You rule the raging sea, You speak and the storm ceases to torment. Even so, You teach us that through much tribulation we enter the Kingdom of God.
Really? Why is that necessary, Lord? Why must we be crushed?
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I ambled along our country road. Slow. Sluggish. Deep in thought, led by a searching heart. My gaze landed on the mountaintop in the distance. Blue-purple ribbons of rolling hills surrounded the giant dome. Why are you troubled and weary, Nan? I asked myself. Why so downcast? Put your hope in God, Maker of heaven and earth.
I often lecture myself. I suppose King David did the same. Throughout the Psalms, his dialogue addresses the battle of spirit and flesh, faith and despair.
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Father, You are the Holy One, the One True God. You are my Beloved and I am Yours — You call me daughter. I’m so thankful I have a grip on hope, knowing that You have a sovereign plan for all things. And yet, some days it’s just plain hard to hang on. Help me keep my eyes on You. When my eyes are on You, the things of earth grow smaller and no longer threaten me. When I consider You and all Your ways, I find peace and I’m able to keep a grip on hope.
What reassurance this gives me!
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Fog lay thick as a shroud this morning. A cool mist blanketed the earth as early fall temperatures butted up against the dog days of summer. I couldn’t see the old apple tree, but I could hear the morning choir perched on its branches. The sky held a warm glow as the sun pushed against the foggy veil.
My heart carried heavy burdens as I sat in the stillness of the morning. I prayed and watched, and watched and prayed as the fog began to lift. Prayer escaped my lips and drifted heavenward.
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Father, I often feel so much like Paul: the things I don’t want to do, I do! And the things I do want to do, I don’t. Oh, wretched one that I am. Please forgive me. My flesh is a real mess sometimes. But, thank God … I walk close enough to You to realize it. And to desire even more for You to transform me into Your likeness so I might glorify You.
The battle between flesh and blood is real, hard, and sometimes painful as I confront those things in my heart that are not of You … there is a cost to discipleship. Sanctification truly resembles a fire some days — a Refiner’s fire making all things beautiful, a Refiner’s fire that burns away the dross and works on making me holy as You are holy. For this I’m thankful.
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Closing my eyes, I leaned back and sat still, waiting on the Lord. I knew He wanted to show me something. Life had been hard. The flame of adversity had been fierce. Relentless. I found myself seeking the Lord for solace … and understanding.
I struck the match and pressed its flame against the candlewick. Within moments, a globe of fire consumed the string and burned bright. I watched as the flame grew stronger, melting the aromatic candle. The more melting occurred, the stronger the fragrance — the farther its reach as the aroma permeated the room.
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Father, Your mercy is great, Your love beyond comprehension. I don’t deserve such love, yet You lavish it upon me. You turn my sorrow into joy and my despair into hope. Lead me beside the still and quiet waters of rest where You restore my soul. In Your presence, I find peace and contentment.
When You call to me to come and sit with You awhile, I don’t want to be stubborn and stiff-necked. I don’t want to continue in my own strength — I want my flesh to lie down and my spirit to rise up and say, “Yes, Lord. I’m coming. Your servant is listening.”
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