KEEP TIGHT IN CHRIST

Patience can be defined as the tolerance of delay.

from thefreedictionary.com

We imagined an easily accomplished afternoon.  A visit to the allergist.  A visit to the bank.  Other errands, and caring for our granddaughters.  Our one vehicle requires careful planning of our days.  Last Tuesday's needs created opportunity for Jeff and I to juggle a busy schedule.

With two girls in tow, safely attached to their car seats, Jeff would drop me by the doctor; then, he would go the bank, finish the errands, and take the children home.  I would call him on my cell when my appointment was done.  It seemed so easily managed.   

And so it was easy until I walked out of my doctor's office, picked up the phone, dialed home, and received a "cannot complete your call now; please try again later" message.  "OK," I thought.  "I must not have a good signal inside the building.  I'll step outside and call."

Same number.  Same message.  Same problem.  I couldn't get through.  I tried again.  And, again.  And, again.   

I scanned my phone for numbers.  Maybe someone else could get through.  I found my brother's number and gave him a call.  He phoned my home number and called me back.  "Andrea, I'm getting a busy signal."

I scanned my phone for my son, Steven's, work number.  He proved very difficult to reach, but after a long while, I got through to him.  He tried to call his dad and got the same "Your call cannot be completed" message.  Steven would see what he could do to help me and call me back.

I was stranded for now. 

I stood outside the beautiful brick building, its four columns gracing a covered portico, which gave me shade.  The afternoon was very warm but not hot, and a light breeze occasionally lifted its gentle presence across my face. 

I remembered a hair clip was in my purse, so I dug through the depths of pictures, eyeglasses, papers, book, pens, mints, and everything else and found the clip at the bottom, took it, and put up my hair. 

I ignored the looks of the passersby, who were going in and out of the doctors' building. 

I waited.   

I thought of walking the three miles home.  "If only I hadn't worn these shoes with heals.  (They were only two inches, but for me may as well been five.)  Why didn't I wear my cushy, black sandals?"

I waited. 

I thought of how my patience span was much less elastic than it had been an hour before. 

My cell rang.  It was Steven, who said he couldn't leave his job at present, but was sending someone to take me home. 

I waited.  Longer.  And longer, still. 

A new problem began to grow in my soul.  I felt an urgent choice arise within, as on one hand my flesh begged for permission to be angry, and on the other hand my spirit remembered words hidden in my heart.

I breathed, and prayed.  "Father my days were all written in your book before I was conceived.  Help me, Lord, to hear you here, in this place, in my now.  Holy Spirit, help me to rest in you.  To be patient.  To do what pleases you.  To see in you in this frustrating, passing moment."

Minutes later, still alone, my son called with news that my deliverer was lost.  I walked in front of the building and found the address number, so he could call my rescuer and give her clearer directions.  Yes, I am one of those people who just might forget to include an address with directions, but please remember my Father loves me anyway.

Several minutes later, a lovely young girl named Stephanie pulled up in front of me.  "Are you Steven's mom?"

"Yes!" which was said with a huge, huge, huge sigh of relief.

Realizing my new friend needed gas in her car, I asked her to stop so I could bless her for blessing me.  Afterwards, we spoke of her children and the difficulties of being a young mom.

Stephanie glanced at me.  "You're different than I thought you would be.  I was afraid you would be mad after waiting all that time, especially when I couldn't find you."

Feeling very humbled by her candor, I told her I was so thankful she could help me and I was in no way mad at her or anyone else.

We parted with a connection and a God-placed nearness.  I knew she wasn't a Christian, and though I hadn't won her to Jesus, a seed was planted.

That seed was placed in her soil because the Lord had given me grace to keep tight in Christ. In my weakness, He gave me strength to make the choice to "Be still, and know" that He is God (Psalm 46:10).

I wish I had a picture to share of my dear Jeff's shocked face when he opened the door to find me standing there, my face red from stress and warmth and my hair plopped on my head like mashed potatoes on a plate.

"What in the world?"  he asked, as he and Olivia and Ella stood gazing at me in awe.

I explained it all.  He picked up the phone to find our service was down.  A few phone calls later found us with a new provider for our landline.   I love my husband!

And, I love You, Lord!  What a wonderful friend and shepherd You are!  Because of Your grace, I could keep tight.  Because your word was fire in my heart and hope in my soul, Stephanie could wonder why I was not angry and rude.

My son shared the whys with Stephanie when she arrived safely back to her job.  And, I pray God will nurture the tiny, tender seed in her heart with His great love.

I wondered later:  "Why didn't I call directory assistance and get a taxi?"  Sometimes being a little dull around the edges is a useful tool in God's hands. Truly, His grace is functional in everything great and all things small.

Friends, keep tight in Christ,

On River's Bank

Swimming in cool, rushing waters, . . .

I move gracefully toward a goal, feeling the freedom of flowing currents, knowing power over depth.  My arms move effortlessly, without fatigue or pain.  My legs are straight behind me giving me strength.  My head stays above the flood; my eyes focus on destiny.

Such describes my dreams of rivers. 

Yet, much irony lies in those dreams.  In my real life, I cannot swim and have a deep respect for bodies of water.  I do not like water in my eyes or ears.  And two near-drowning incidents have left their marks on my mind.

Still, I love rivers.  Particularly those mountain streams that move with life and air and sky and wind.

I easily remember special places where such rivers live.  There is an old country store with a grist mill in the North Georgia mountains, and behind that store is a wooden walkway where one can watch the turning of the wheel and trout swim in the currents.  The rushing waters cascade with perfect harmony.  Their music echos in my soul.  It is a God-created tonic.  I have stood there several times drinking its peace.  

Yet, greater still is drinking in the peace of another river.  It is that "river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells" (Psalm 46:4, NIV).  It is a river I do not fear, even in my real life.  It is a river more pure than any other river.  It is a real river of relief.  It is a river that thunders with praise of divine power.  It is a river for tasting, drinking, wading, and plunging, and for walking of its banks.

It is my river.  And, it is your river.  

To be honest with you, friends, I need a drink from that river.  I need to stand on its bank and wade into its effervescence.  To be affected by its persuasive authority.  To be guided into its healing falls. 

For, all channels that rill from its presence make glad the sacred places of my life.  All streams from its Source make glad the scarred places in my heart. 

"Glad" in original Hebrew means to rejoice or cheer up. 

So, placing my own heart-spin on Psalm 46:4, I perceive that river as the Holy Spirit and paraphrase the following: 

When my heart is in need, when my life feels broken, when I reach my endpoint, I can fall on my face and seek my Creator of rivers.  He will send His Holy Spirit to fill my emptiness and heal my hurts.  His sacred presence will change my mourning into dancing, my pain to praise, my endpoint to a new point.  

The past several months have been a tiring swim.  I am slightly stretched.  I miss my home and my familiar surroundings.  Our church is suffering need.  Physically, my health is daily challenging.  And, other needs unspoken now, press and weigh.  Yet, like David,  "I am still confident of this:  I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living" (Psalm 27:13, NIV). 

In the New King James Version, that scripture reads, "I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living."  And verse 14 ends the psalm with some of the most encouraging words in scripture:  "Wait on the LORD; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; wait, I say, on the LORD!"

Sometimes we have to wait to wade, to venture out into and drink His living water.  We sit on the bank so thirsty and fatigued, yet so hopeful because of faith's vision.  

Turning to the Word in those dry, dessertlike seasons is our refuge.  Because. . .  

We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you (2 Corinthians 4:7-12). 

My suffering does not compare to Paul's or so many others; yet, it is working my death and His life in me.  I guess what I'm saying, dear friend, is that His grace is enough.  And, though sometimes it seems all we have, we stand unshaken because it really is all we need.  And, I believe.  No, I know future glory will reveal that truth in all of us. 

Unyielding, I vision His water!  Unshaken, I proclaim that God is in control!  Unmoved, I stand by grace!   

On His River's Bank,  

 

Dead Wood

"The life of the branch in the Vine is a life of never-ceasing growth. The abiding . . . is in our reach, for He lives to give it us. Let us be ready to count all things loss . . . ."

Andrew Murray

Dangling from our big shade tree in the side yard, the chunky branch hung, caught between live limbs and leaves. How long had it been there, showing its blatant death and causing our concern to seem slack? It looked sort of pitiful. All hollow and black, its bark chipped away, its texture worn, its life gone.

My husband and I concurred its final blow must have come with a passing storm several nights ago. Its ultimate demise was not to be avoided even with gentle winds and rain. Once Jeff and I discovered its spooky, lifeless form, he made his way to the tree, brought it down with little effort, and cast it onto the curb, where it awaited pick-up on Tuesday.

That was that. But that was not the first time we have had dead limbs about after a storm. At other times, after other storms, much of the dead wood was unseen by passersby. It could be neglected until our desire and time. Not now. Our little cottage, our now home, sits quaintly on a corner lot, where many pass each day. Which explains our prompt response.

Who wants to see dead wood? Its rotten presence is a often a turn-off. Its charred look and hollowness bring ideas of spiders and termites. Little pesky, unwanted creatures that use the useless piece to feed and nest.

A few years ago, Jeff and I thought we had found the perfect home. Driving down a quiet city street scattered with sweet old houses, we spotted a sign that read "For Sale." The little cottage on a hill looked so lovely. It was worn and sad. It needed TLC. But in its imperfection, we saw grace. We drove by it many days. . . and nights. We couldn't wait to see its inward promise.

Finally, our realtor took us through the home. As we expected, years of neglect proved obvious. Yet, we were still charmed by its possibilities. What potential we saw in its cozy little sunroom with a bay window, the lovely hall staircase made of hardwood, antique doors, living room fireplace, attic bedrooms, and open family room. I thought I had finally found my dream home.

But it was not to be. When we entered the backyard, a large stack of old fire logs warned us as if they had been ablaze with noisy heat. Creeping, crawling, moving amongst the dead wood, were dozens of termites. We returned to our car, disappointed by cold reality.

Our realtor shared stories of termites and their horrors with homes. Sometimes the little nasty creatures are easily seen, but often, they remain hidden and can destroy even the most beautifully presented houses.

So, when I think of dead wood, I remember the possibilities of its presence.

And I also think of the spiritual possibilities of its realities.

Admit or not, dear friends, we all have it or have had it. Somewhere. Stashed away in our own private temples, in our own secret walks with God, dead wood can exist. And its effects are just as destructive for us as termites are for our homes.

If not cast away, thrown to the curb, called out of hiding, the hollow, hopeless, useless branches will bring us misery. They may at first appear as nothing. They may at first seem so minor. They may at first be thought of as ridiculous concern. But their neglected states will draw destructive forces that feed off their lifelessness. And the nagging influences will spread like wind, even eating the good wood that clings to the live vine.

Listen to the words of the Savior as He reveals vine truth. His words were so tender, yet so sober, so filled with warning and love, as he spoke to his disciples on that Passover evening after they had left the Upper Room. You know the story well. Their walk toward Gethsemane led them through a vineyard.

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you. This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples."

Praise God! Dear friends, God does not want us to have dead wood. He wants us to be fruitful. He wants us to bring Him glory. To be beings of light and life. To be free of the old dead things in our lives that drain our spiritual vitality.

Please do not be dismayed at our Father's pruning process. God is love. And he wants to keep us chaste and holy. His desire is that you prosper and live without the dead weight of lifeless limbs. Useless wood that is heavy and tiresome and is a harbor for destruction.

Such wood can be so many things. Some of these things are outright sin that must be dealt with; some are simply junk that needs to be thrown to the curb. And some are weights around our ankles. Unforgiveness, worry, fear, indulgence, neglect of God-time, jealousy, condemnation, regret, unbelief, ignoring God's word, poor self-esteem, pride, and on and on, but God gives more grace!!! Praise His name forever!

We can lose our dead wood. God can cast it to the curb and move us own to fruitful abiding. In His mighty hands are pruning shears. He lovingly takes them up and searches our hearts and removes what is death to us so that we can have abundant life in Christ.

I had quite another post in mind, but I have saved it in my heart for another time. God spoke this word to me, and with all my heart, I have felt its burden.

I love you all and have written with that love. My heart yearns that we all will grow into the likeness of Jesus. May the Lord bless you ever so richly, and may your abiding life in Him bring you great peace and contentment.

Do not forget. He is "able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us" (Ephesians 3:20). It does not matter what your dead wood is or what it is not; what does matter is God's power to work and remove its influence and weight from your life. What does matter is that He can set you free and make you fruitful! What does matter is His unfailing love for you! What does matter is His glory and His desire for your life.

God has a special plan for you. He has designed a beautiful vineyard with you in mind. He has walked the path toward you today, and now, the Gardener waits at your door.

*All scripture is from the NIV translation.

A Feast of Light

"Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven firstborn!"

John Milton, Paradise LostStillness and solitude settled in our quaint cottage. A quiet somber mood created perfection for reading, relaxing, reflecting. Sorely needed self-time was set. I looked forward to a few rare, valuable moments. I was going to read by the fire and bask in its soft glow as I waited for friends to arrive.

It was a late fall evening. Crisp and cool. Just right. I had made vanilla coffee and sprinkled in a touch of cinnamon. Arranged white china cups and saucers, all lined with silver and brushed with delicate blooms of green, on the counter. Placed vanilla scented candles in the kitchen. Warmed the guest bath with french soap, sweet towels, and lavender mist .

Then tired by the preparing, I looked at the little toile wing chair by my fireplace. It indeed beckoned. "Get a book and rest with me a while. You have a half hour before the doorbell rings."

I quickly found my nearest read. To sit, clear my mind, rest, and relish inspiring words would be tonic.

Two minutes later darkness fell. Suddenly. Lights went out. All shut down. And quiet and solitude turned to a little knot within, as I grasped through pitch to find candles, remembering my only phone was dead.

God had planned a different way for me. Knowing my steps were ordered by him, I made do. Lit wicks, set candles about, pulled lace panels back to let a vague glow from a near street light stream into my living room, and waited.

One hour later lights were on. Friends arrived. Coffee made. Again. Candles still shining upon the mantle and scattered throughout my living and dining rooms, soft lamps glowing, and a chandelier burning created light within light. It was a feast of light. And the radiance of all spoke comfort. It was as if darkness never happened.

I have never liked darkness. I love no light when sleeping, but so welcome early morning sun pouring through bedroom windows and soft lamps that cast sweet glows through our little rooms in evening hours.

Light is a gift. The first earthly creation of our heavenly Father. "Let there be light." God called, commanded to darkness, and formed day. Illumination came to earth. A channel for realization. Clear vision. For the purpose of seeing. For the purpose of revealing. That He is good. That He alone can give light. Is light.

The Apostle John spoke of this seeing. ". . . the life was the light of men," he said, speaking of Jesus, Who was "phos," the Greek word John used to tell that Jesus was God's divine light. God in the flesh. God's rays. Real illumination.

Jesus, this divine light, told us Himself that He is the light of the world. He met a blind man one Sabbath day. A man whose only hope was begging for mercy and money from people who passed his way.

Christ's disciples just had to know. "Why is this man blind? What did he do that was so bad God struck him with darkness? Or, did the man's parents do something to cause it? What happened?" *

Do you hear 21st century voices in the disciples' questions? Begging to know? Longing to be let in on the secret? Denying restrained curiosity? Trying to shake out the truth.? The story behind the story? Isn't that just like us? We want details. To understand. Perceive. Know.

Jesus knew sincerity. They wanted to understand, and He understood. He answered. ". . . this happened that the work of God might be displayed in his life. . . . While I am in the world, I am the light of the world."

Jesus then began to heal the blind man. Christ spit on the ground. Made mud for man. Again. Put it on his eyes. Told him to go. To wash.

And the blind man did. He went. He washed. Returned. Healed. Saw. Believed.

When they were informed of the healing, quite a controversy erupted among the Jews. Their Pharisaical hearts could not bear such light. Jesus could not be from God because he healed on the Sabbath! Voices raged! Words flew! The healed man was cast out of the synagogue.

He then turned, and followed the Light. The Light of the World. The Son of Man who left heavenly dominion to bring judgment to earth, so that the blind would see and those who see would be blind.

The healed one's spiritual journey began.

Seeing Jesus also begins our spiritual journey. To behold Christ's glory. To hold His beauty in our hearts. To follow His light. To believe, pisteuo, as the Greek says, to entrust our lives to Him and commit to His name.

How can we see Him? How can we know Him? Right here, right now?

Listen. . .
Jesus ascended a high hill. Sat among so many, all were hungry to hear. Thirsty to know. Craved real. Had to have Truth.

Christ spoke. Taught. The truth. Jesus told the only way. "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God."

And the original Greek meanings of these few holy words tell much. Promise great.

Pure is to be sanctified by fire; cleansed, like a vine pruned and fit to bear fruit.
Heart means of will or character; the seat of thoughts, desires, purposes, endeavors.
See is to gaze at something remarkable with wide-opened eyes; to know by experience.
The word "see" in Greek seems to work at many levels. It seems to speak to layers of vision. It speaks of our earthly walk with God. What we can have right here and now! And it tells of our possibilities for depth in the Christian life. Lovingly, Jesus left us with a map for seeing.

Process. . .
Through God's refining fire, His painful, but needful pruning process, everything about us, our hopes, dreams, plans, thoughts, desires, personalities, all are affected. We are changed. Like the blind man, we are healed. Transformed. Delivered. Visioned.

When allowing Jesus full reign in us, He uses any process He wants, even if it means we don't like it, don't understand it, and think it's painful, makes no sense, and is a bad choice.

We hear His words. We obey His voice. We go. We're cleansed. And filled. And healed. Changed. Forever.

Our hearts are pure. We are never the same! And we see God!

We return from our obedience, our washing, seeing Jesus. Able to behold Who He Is. The Son of the Living God.

We are transformed. The old ways mean nothing anymore.

We no longer crave the usual! We must have Jesus! We must follow the Light!

And this beautiful process God works in us time and again, changing us from "glory to glory" through His Spirit.

Layer upon layer. Design upon design. He moves. Works. Renews. Transforms.

Our vision grows clearer and clearer. We see Jesus more and more. Our faith grows stronger and stronger. Our love for Christ grows deeper and deeper.

Like an account of high-paying interest that multiples funds, like a small tree that once planted grows great, so is our faith in Christ! It grows and accumulates heavenly treasure and earthly fruit.

We feast upon His light. Know vision by His radiance. Perceive reality through His love . Our eyes behold manifest glory.

We see Jesus! And we are never the same again, again, and again!

Scripture is from St. John chapter 9; Matthew 5:8; 2 Corinthians 3:18.

Greek resources are from e-sword.

*My paraphrase.

My Dear, Dear Sweet Friends,

I so apologize for my recent lack of posting and commenting. Our lives have been a bit overrun lately with things beyond our control.

My husband will have a heart catherization Tuesday morning. His mother will join us today, and will be able to spend a week with us. She is a wonderful Christian and a sweet, loving woman! It will be a great blessing to have her near. We are hoping and praying for a good report, and I appreciate your thoughts and prayers very much.

God has been and is so good to us. Jesus never fails! I thank Him for His saving grace and strength.

I want to say a prayer for you this Lord's Day. You are all so special to me, and how I appreciate your faith, love, and support. Have a blessed Sunday and joy-filled week!

Dear Jesus, I thank you for each one of my blogging friends. You know their hearts, their needs, their hopes, their dreams. You see all. You care for all. Oh, Lord, You Who formed us know us best!

I pray for encouragement. I ask You, dear Father, to keep them all. To give them physical strength and joy in their hearts.

God, You cannot fail us. You said You would never leave us or forsake us. You are here. Right now. May we all sense and know your presence and peace that passes all understanding.

May we look to You. May we seek You. May our eyes be opened and You give us greater and greater vision to see Jesus.

In Christ's Name, Amen.

All Has Been Arranged

"I see heaven's glories shine and faith shines equal."

Emily Bronte

Mr. Simeon lay on his bed, ready to breathe his last. Many gathered round the old saint. They waited for finality. They hoped for words. They clung to truth. He yearned to speak. . . .

The story shared of this one Charles Simeon compels us to think of that one path we must all walk one day. Before sharing this story from John Piper, please allow me to share just a brief moment from my own heart.

Hearing news of a passing brings startle and wince. Whether such word is brazenly given by media about those well-known, or personally whispered in our ears for one so dearly and closely known by a familiar few, it inevitably leads us all to mediation, deep thought, questions, . . . and answers from God's word.

As Christians, we have HOPE! And, oh, dear friends, this "hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us" (Romans 5:5,).

Sitting at my computer this morning, I read this brief story I am about to share. After reading, the Lord burned Romans 5:5 in my heart. I could only lift my hands, worship God, and say over and over again "Hope makes us not ashamed! Hope makes us not ashamed! Hope makes us not ashamed!" God's presence filled my heart, and peace swept over me.

Our faithful walk with Christ will bring us one day to a finish line, and as we cross, HIS words will rapturously echo, "Well done, good and faithful servant" (Matthew 25:23). We who have run our race and finished the course well will have no shame. Hope will be fulfilled! A forever finality will dawn! The mystery of earthly shadows will no longer be impeded because of holy light! I thank God for this glorious celebration of victory that awaits us!

And here is just one story of that triumphant day. . . .

I've learned beside many dying believers that the battle with impatience can be very intense on the deathbed. On October 21, 1836, those with Charles Simeon (with the Church of England) heard him say these words slowly and with long pauses:

Infinite wisdom has arranged the whole with infinite love; and infinite power enables me - to rest upon that love. I am in a dear Father's hands - all is secure. When I look to Him, I see nothing but faithfulness - and immutability - and truth; and I have the sweetest peace - I cannot have more peace.

The reason Simeon could die like that is because he had trained himself for 54 years to go to Scripture and to take hold of the promises of future grace and use them to conquer the unbelief of impatience.

Dear friends, discover the beauty of these powerful words today, almost two hundred years later. We who live for God have nothing to fear. For there waits ahead of us a "crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge will award . . . on that day . . . to all who have longed for his appearing" (II Timothy 4:8).

May peace, hope, and rest guard your hearts this weekend as you serve our God! May you seize God's holy word, and cling to his promises to you! Embrace them! Cherish them! Live with them! Abide in them!

I love you all because of the precious love of Jesus Christ placed in my heart through His grace.

All scripture is from the NIV Bible.
The story of Charles Simeon is from Future Grace by John Piper.

A Volume of Loving Thoughts

"Books are standing counselors and preachers, always at hand,and always disinterested; having this advantage over oral instructors,that they are ready to repeat their lesson as often as we please."

Oswald Chambers

A book casually rests atop some reference volumes high on my library shelf. Its spring green paper back and cover picture of a pensive Victorian woman have many times intrigued my literary senses. Sitting at a lovely desk, the prim woman writes, having a shy, kind look of grace about her. She appears determined, focused. Her face glows from soft, mellow light.

I have not yet even skimmed this classic work by Charlotte Bronte, time being an ever present constraint, and my need for devotional works speaking much louder than random reads. Yet, I have sought a basic understanding of Villette and have curiously read an introduction to the story behind its cover. What I found was a sad heroine, Lucy, who escapes a tragic past in her England to venture to Villette, a small village in France. Her escape leads Lucy to more sorrow, frustration, and ill-use. Villette, it seems, is a novel about despair, fear, hypocrisy, injustice, insecurity, and the need of courage.

Whether I will ever be determined enough to read this classic story I do not know. But my curiosity about its plot and theme has led me to thoughts beyond those I am sure were intended by its author. Literary critics thrive on twisting Villette into a story of feminism and the psychology of repressed emotions. I do wonder if Charlotte Bronte meant that interpretation. I am sure she often found the role of women in Victorian society a cross to bear. Whatever the author's intention and whatever the critics believe, there is only one perspective truly important. Those are the thoughts of the Creator of words. The knowledge of the Holy. God and God alone, who knows the heart of one.

Please forgive me as I speak with passion on the subject of critical reading, but I was taught to teach the written word with a worldly view. I mean no disrespect to education. God uses our educations for His glory. But I, with firm intention, have challenged myself as a reader: to read, to understand, to study, to enjoy, to learn, to determine, to define, to reflect, to employ all in Christ and with His discernment.

Dear friends, as Christians we are not divided into pieces. We are whole beings, who must wholly live and holy live. Our entire lives are hidden with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3). I am a Christian when I worship; I am a Christian when I serve. I am a Christian when I am happy; I am a Christian when I am angry. I am a Christian when I am weak; I am a Christian when I am strong. I am a Christian if I fail; I am a Christian if I succeed. I am a Christian when I eat; I am a Christian when I sleep. I am a Christian in my church; I am a Christian in my kitchen. I am a Christian in the morning and in the evening; I am a Christian when I think of my future and remember my past.

And, yes, I am a Christian when I write and when I read. Therefore, what I read, what I see, that which I interpret must be done through the eyes of Christ, with the influence of the Holy Spirit. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing is restricted from God's counsel or authority.

It is said that A. W. Tozer, a mighty hero of faith, sought understanding of literature and studied earnestly. He searched all with spiritual understanding, even kneeling to read Shakespeare. If this great man of God turned to our Creator for guidance in all his reading, I am compelled to take his example and cast myself on God's mercy, even for what seems trivial, only earthly, small, immaterial to my Christian life.

It is God's desire to give me understanding and leadership in everything. He wants me to look to Him as the complete One. The Source of my life. Not to discount other opinions or disrespect everyone else, but to allow God's voice as the final word, the ultimate view. My viewer of views. I must regard everything through His sacred vision. Yes, God's infallible word is my all sufficient rule of faith and practice (II Timothy 3:15-17).

Through His word we learn that God is love. It is His pleasure to give you and me good gifts (Matthew 7:11). He framed us. Made us with a need to rest, to search for relaxation and refreshment in our weariness. He created language and its beauty. He designed the flow of syntax and made our brains to learn, our eyes to see, and our lips to speak, to read. So, whatever is noble, honorable, decent, and praiseworthy, we can read and enjoy, even gaining godly wisdom as we open our hearts to His voice (Philippians 4:8).

Grasp God's heart as you read and work. Listen for His voice even in what seems small. Jesus Christ is your life, and He is your gentle Shepherd. He longs to lead you in all and speak to you in all. The Lord Himself is your personal literary authority and movie expert. If you feel a tug in your heart, a warning to stay away from anything, heed this sweet voice of the Holy Spirit that only desires your good.

For, God is your faithful Source for everything, even what seems small. Oh, how he longs to lead you! Oh, how He treasures your dependence on Him! And, oh, how God is committed to every part of your life! His love for you is everlasting. And your wisdom, your life, your joy are found in His whispers, those gentle pulls at your heart strings. He has in store for you "a volume of loving thoughts."

She Walks In Wisdom

"We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us."

E. M. Forester

Part One of Two

She walks with honor. I wonder at the poise and skill with which it graces her. More than dignity, it is a purification of senses and an ease of kinship with her heavenly Father. Her nature is effortless beauty, within, without, molded by hours of prayer, shaped by study of scripture, come from years in a refiner's fire, a chosen furnace of afflictions, deemed for a vessel to be polished and reserved for her Master's employment.

And this noble vessel, free from splints of wood, shreds of hay, and stalks of stubble, is a sparkling masterpiece of humility, whose words and life speak purity, power, truth, and love for lives destined for their own furnaces, their personal destinies with the heavenly Father, their particular lonely hours in His garden, their own minds clothed with His word.

Have you met one like her? Do you know one who walks her way? A true token of grace, embellished with ribbons of righteousness and a quick word of truth that melts hearts like whipped honey? A woman who carries sensibility and Christian love like dozens of Damask roses, ready at once to give all and receive little? Whose very paths, gilt with hope, pursues what is pure, perseveres in all, holds peace fast, disdains every evil, sees all good, cleaves to the meek, appeals to be strong, with faith seeks, with authority binds riveting seams, with trust rests, with joy believes, with comfort assures? In truth proclaims? Have you seen her? Do you know one like her? Do you seek her? Do you hope to find her?

She is to be treasured. She is to be sought. She is to be found. She is to be kept. "Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom, and in all your getting, get understanding. Exalt her and she will promote you. She will bring you honor when you embrace her. She will place on your head an ornament of grace; a crown of glory she will deliver to you" (Proverbs 4:7-9).

Many times I have read these words with great desire and affection. Many times I have read these words with longing and frustration, hoping for a portion of such grace, a morsel of this divine gift, for while often in need of it, I have, too, been often in want of wisdom. Reaching for peace in chaos, pining for a word from God in a present trial, grasping to speak comfort to another seeking counsel, hoping for "the" answer to what seems hopeless, searching for faith to withstand fiery darts, striving to scale slippery rocks to find refuge from the enemy, I have been left weary and without, lacking the perfect solution to the imperfectability of life's sweet wonders.

For too long, I was overcome with my own insufficiencies. I prayed for wisdom, looking for the gift, but stood ignorant of the precious map that would lead me to my treasure. While there is a specific gift of wisdom given by the Holy Spirit (I Corinthians 12:8), and while we are commanded to pray for wisdom (James 1:5), there is also a life of wisdom to be had. A route to this holy treasure to be followed. And this glorious, priceless treasure is the Lord Jesus Christ Himself and the beautiful walk we have with Him as we seek Him with our entire being. It is an eternal walk in a carnal world. It involves the high price of relinquishment, total surrender.

It carries with it the prize of a life of wisdom, one adorned with grace, purity, faith, hope, honor, and love. It creates a lovely work of art that is wise, not because one has the "right" answers, but because she has the "right" source, and she has followed Jesus and pursued His heart, His values, His word, His love, His life. The woman of wisdom, through giving herself, yields to God in every fiery furnace. She recognizes her own weaknesses and quickly confesses her needs to the Lord. She listens for God's voice in all situations, and still searches and believes and hopes and trusts, even when all is silence, and He does not say a word. Every deed she considers in light of His word. Every decision is important for pleasing the heavenly Father is just what Jesus did and would do.

The woman of wisdom is tall in faith, but humble in spirit; light in burdens, yet heavy with grace. She does not always put herself first, but willingly steps aside and moves for the good of another. Her marks are kindness; her law is love; her heart desires purity; her eyes seek truth. She may or may not be well-known; the wise woman may or may not be successful in this world. She may be rich, or she may be poor. The woman of wisdom may have great talent or possess none; may have friends or be alone. Perhaps she is a gifted teacher, or sings in the choir; maybe blessed in a thriving career, or a stay-at-home mom; perhaps she has the voice of angel, or is tone-deaf. The woman of wisdom may be infirm, healthy, married, single, widowed, divorced, childless, mother of few or many, educated, a high school drop-out, a born leader, the one who cleans the church building each week, or cares for little ones in the nursery every Sunday.

Every woman of wisdom is unique, but every woman of wisdom is beautiful and has much to give and share. Her light is ever glowing, as she waits, watches, day and night, on opportunity to serve, to pray, to wait, to love, to ponder God's word. And every woman who knows the Lord Jesus Christ can be a woman of wisdom. It is not beyond the reach of any, for Christ is always working in us, and He sculpts our lives with increasing purpose, as we, through the process of time, give more and more of ourselves to Him. Indeed, wisdom is a treasure to be won, and we will have a life of wisdom in due season if we continue in His grace and do not faint in our walk with Him (Galatians 6:9).

I pray for God's grace to hold fast this walk toward wisdom. It is not to be achieved as a medallion, but to be desired, searched, found, held with humility, and praised for the glory it brings to Jesus Christ. And God does not favor one of us above another. He is ready to give us as much as we are willing to receive, and He is ready to take as much as we are willing to give. What price will we pay for this treasure? What are we willing to give to apprehend this priceless way that will reward us with the invaluable gift of wisdom? It is the life of the blessed woman. Wisdom is your path to perfect peace. Wisdom will be for you an "ornament of grace."

In my post to follow, I plan to continue this thought, focusing on steps that help us reach the life of wisdom.

All scripture quoted is from NKJV.