Thursday, November 29, 2012
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Jesus, I am Resting, Resting...
Jesus, I am resting, resting,
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.
Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,
And Thy beauty fills my soul,
For by Thy transforming power,
Thou hast made me whole.
O, how great Thy loving kindness,
Vaster, broader than the sea!
O, how marvelous Thy goodness,
Lavished all on me!
Yes, I rest in Thee, Belovèd,
Know what wealth of grace is Thine,
Know Thy certainty of promise,
And have made it mine.
Simply trusting Thee, Lord Jesus,
I behold Thee as Thou art,
And Thy love, so pure, so changeless,
Satisfies my heart;
Satisfies its deepest longings,
Meets, supplies its every need,
Compasseth me round with blessings:
Thine is love indeed!
Ever lift Thy face upon me
As I work and wait for Thee;
Resting ’neath Thy smile, Lord Jesus,
Earth’s dark shadows flee.
Brightness of my Father’s glory,
Sunshine of my Father’s face,
Keep me ever trusting, resting,
Fill me with Thy grace.
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.
Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,
And Thy beauty fills my soul,
For by Thy transforming power,
Thou hast made me whole.
Refrain
Jesus, I am resting, resting,
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.
Vaster, broader than the sea!
O, how marvelous Thy goodness,
Lavished all on me!
Yes, I rest in Thee, Belovèd,
Know what wealth of grace is Thine,
Know Thy certainty of promise,
And have made it mine.
Refrain
I behold Thee as Thou art,
And Thy love, so pure, so changeless,
Satisfies my heart;
Satisfies its deepest longings,
Meets, supplies its every need,
Compasseth me round with blessings:
Thine is love indeed!
Refrain
As I work and wait for Thee;
Resting ’neath Thy smile, Lord Jesus,
Earth’s dark shadows flee.
Brightness of my Father’s glory,
Sunshine of my Father’s face,
Keep me ever trusting, resting,
Fill me with Thy grace.
Refrain
~Jean Sophia Pigott
Friday, June 15, 2012
Death and Life and Lies and Truth
We started out alive. Very much alive. We were in direct, perfect communion with God. We had no division or misunderstanding or selfishness in our relationships with each other. We were physically healthy. We were mentally sound. We were emotionally fulfilled and whole.
And then
we
died.
God told us we would, if we did That; but we paid Him no heed.
Thought we knew best.
We tried so hard, we did.
We tried to pretend we were still alive.
We hid. Hid from the One with the Answer, from the One who sees all.
And we’re still dead and we still pretend.
Outside we look alive.
Inside we are naught but a corpse.
Rotting, shriveled, dry.
We plaster on a smile and we laugh and we talk loud and we DO. Frantically, we try to convince ourselves–or at least everyone else–that we aren’t really dead inside.
But we are.
And we all know it, no matter how hard we try to make it look otherwise, no matter how many people tell us we are beautiful and good, no matter how loud we laugh, no matter how much doing we pile on top of our deadness in an attempt to look alive.
Ugly, small, not-right.
This is us.
Correction: this is us without and before Christ…Before the Christ-life comes in and fills that hollow, dried up, dead spirit of ours. Before He comes and breaths His life into our breathless spirit. Before His Life-Blood begins flowing in our spiritual veins.
But oh, when it happens–what a glorious thing!
We who were
once dead,
who were
once far off–
are alive in Christ,
brought very near
by His precious life-blood.
Why, then, do we--who are alive in Christ--sometimes still feel dead? Why do we sometimes still see ourselves as ugly, shriveled, hopeless?
In a word:
lies.
You see, Before, the lie was:
You aren’t really dead;
somehow, someway,
you can beat it.
You can cover it up.
Hide, run
and hide.
Don’t let Him see.
Just put on some more makeup,
maybe buy some more expensive clothes.
Make sure you do everything
right.
Keep doing all those good things; maybe
that
will make you feel better.
Once we see through that lie and accept the Christ-life, however, the lie takes another twist.
He whispers the other side of his deceitful tale into your delicate new ears:
You aren’t really alive.
You’re still just as
dead
as you ever were.
Look at you!
Insignificant, putrid, hollow old you.
Who do you think you are,
claiming to be new, holy, cleansed, alive?
You’re wrong.
He doesn’t really care for you.
Maybe the other people–look how beautiful they are.
Not you.
Look at what you’ve done, who you are.
No…you’re still dead.
BUT IT IS A LIE.
Just as plain and simple as that.
It’s a lie.
Lies are nothing, nothing but the twisted fragments of nightmarish thoughts from the Enemy of your soul.
The one who tricked us into believing The Lie that brought death to our souls in the first place. The one who desperately tried to keep your soul dead. And the one who, now that your spirit lives because of Christ in you, wants nothing more than to keep you believing that you are still dead.
Don’t listen.
Trust.
I know you don’t see, yet.
You don’t see what God saw when He had the idea for you. What He knows you’ll become at the end of the story. You don’t see, quite, the glow He had–has–in His eyes when He looked at you. You didn’t see His joy when your long-dead spirit finally accepted His life and became new.
But you have to trust.
Trust that He knows what He’s doing. Trust that He who has promised is faithful, and that He also will do it. Trust that He makes everything beautiful in its time. Trust that His life is in you, and that you aren’t dead inside any more.
No.
You are alive, very alive.
Because The One
who is
The Life
is in
you.
And then
we
died.
God told us we would, if we did That; but we paid Him no heed.
Thought we knew best.
We tried so hard, we did.
We tried to pretend we were still alive.
We hid. Hid from the One with the Answer, from the One who sees all.
And we’re still dead and we still pretend.
Outside we look alive.
Inside we are naught but a corpse.
Rotting, shriveled, dry.
We plaster on a smile and we laugh and we talk loud and we DO. Frantically, we try to convince ourselves–or at least everyone else–that we aren’t really dead inside.
But we are.
And we all know it, no matter how hard we try to make it look otherwise, no matter how many people tell us we are beautiful and good, no matter how loud we laugh, no matter how much doing we pile on top of our deadness in an attempt to look alive.
Ugly, small, not-right.
This is us.
Correction: this is us without and before Christ…Before the Christ-life comes in and fills that hollow, dried up, dead spirit of ours. Before He comes and breaths His life into our breathless spirit. Before His Life-Blood begins flowing in our spiritual veins.
But oh, when it happens–what a glorious thing!
We who were
once dead,
who were
once far off–
are alive in Christ,
brought very near
by His precious life-blood.
Why, then, do we--who are alive in Christ--sometimes still feel dead? Why do we sometimes still see ourselves as ugly, shriveled, hopeless?
In a word:
lies.
You see, Before, the lie was:
You aren’t really dead;
somehow, someway,
you can beat it.
You can cover it up.
Hide, run
and hide.
Don’t let Him see.
Just put on some more makeup,
maybe buy some more expensive clothes.
Make sure you do everything
right.
Keep doing all those good things; maybe
that
will make you feel better.
Once we see through that lie and accept the Christ-life, however, the lie takes another twist.
He whispers the other side of his deceitful tale into your delicate new ears:
You aren’t really alive.
You’re still just as
dead
as you ever were.
Look at you!
Insignificant, putrid, hollow old you.
Who do you think you are,
claiming to be new, holy, cleansed, alive?
You’re wrong.
He doesn’t really care for you.
Maybe the other people–look how beautiful they are.
Not you.
Look at what you’ve done, who you are.
No…you’re still dead.
BUT IT IS A LIE.
Just as plain and simple as that.
It’s a lie.
Lies are nothing, nothing but the twisted fragments of nightmarish thoughts from the Enemy of your soul.
The one who tricked us into believing The Lie that brought death to our souls in the first place. The one who desperately tried to keep your soul dead. And the one who, now that your spirit lives because of Christ in you, wants nothing more than to keep you believing that you are still dead.
Don’t listen.
Trust.
I know you don’t see, yet.
You don’t see what God saw when He had the idea for you. What He knows you’ll become at the end of the story. You don’t see, quite, the glow He had–has–in His eyes when He looked at you. You didn’t see His joy when your long-dead spirit finally accepted His life and became new.
But you have to trust.
Trust that He knows what He’s doing. Trust that He who has promised is faithful, and that He also will do it. Trust that He makes everything beautiful in its time. Trust that His life is in you, and that you aren’t dead inside any more.
No.
You are alive, very alive.
Because The One
who is
The Life
is in
you.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Wait
"All you seek, I could give, and pleased you would be.
You would have what you want--
But you wouldn't know Me.
You'd not know the depth of My love for each saint;
You'd not know the power I give to the faint;
"You'd not learn to see through the clouds of despair;
You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there;
You'd not know the joy of resting in Me;
When darkness and silence were all you could see.
"You'd never experience that fullness of love
As the peace of My Spirit descends like a dove;
You'd know that I give and I save, for a start,
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of My heart."
(I don't know the author for this...)
There's more to the poem here: (and possibly the author's name) http://heezrizzen.tripod.com/Wait.html
You would have what you want--
But you wouldn't know Me.
You'd not know the depth of My love for each saint;
You'd not know the power I give to the faint;
"You'd not learn to see through the clouds of despair;
You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there;
You'd not know the joy of resting in Me;
When darkness and silence were all you could see.
"You'd never experience that fullness of love
As the peace of My Spirit descends like a dove;
You'd know that I give and I save, for a start,
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of My heart."
(I don't know the author for this...)
There's more to the poem here: (and possibly the author's name) http://heezrizzen.tripod.com/Wait.html
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Look to Jesus
"Look around and be distressed. Look within and be depressed. Look to Jesus and be at rest." ~ Corrie Ten Boom
Monday, April 30, 2012
Waiting
I must know, my heart demands.
How long,
oh how long?
How long
must I live in this fog?
How long
until I see your plan?
Wait, He replies. Wait on me.
It is enough
He whispers
Into
My impatient heart
Enough that I know
I want to defend, my heart screams.
Will things
ever be set right?
Will they
ever see the other side?
Why don’t
you show them now?
Wait, He replies. Wait on me.
I am your defender.
He whispers
Into
My
misunderstood heart.
Leave it with me.
My dreams are dying, my heart cries.
Why must
they die?
Will they
ever be resurrected?
Were they
not given me by You?
Wait, He replies. Wait on me.
I have a plan,
He whispers
Into
My longing
heart.
And it is good.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Dying
Dying--a painfully apt word, right now.
Crushing sorrow, overwhelming disappointments, dreams crumbling, darkness surrounding...
Dying.
Being buried.
But not to be dead. No--we die in order to live. And to live abundantly. For if we die to ourselves--if we die to our dreams--if we bury our visions and passions-- He will raise us up again.
To life-- to life more abundantly.
For in order to bear much fruit,
the seed
must
die.
So, we die.
And with us, our dreams.
Our plans. Our ideas of how we will serve the Lord.
We die.
Not knowing, not seeing--
only trusting.
Trusting...
The Gardener knows what fruit we will one day bear. And He knows just how deep we must be buried.
He sees the wisdom in the death.
For He is the Life. He knows how abundant and glorious this new life will be.
So-- we die.
Simply trusting.
In the darkness.
In the cold aloneness.
In the crushing weight above us.
In the dirt around that misunderstands.
In the seemingly hopeless, endless nights.
In the pain of the utter loss of all we knew and were.
We wait.
Simply... trusting.
Life, Light--Him.
Will come...
in the spring time.
And in the spring, we shall
see...
glimpses
of the beauty
of
the dying.
No longer will
the darkness,
the weight,
the aloneness,
the uncertainty,
the misunderstanding
seem hard--nay,
they will seem
good.
For from that death
Life
has come.
Crushing sorrow, overwhelming disappointments, dreams crumbling, darkness surrounding...
Dying.
Being buried.
But not to be dead. No--we die in order to live. And to live abundantly. For if we die to ourselves--if we die to our dreams--if we bury our visions and passions-- He will raise us up again.
To life-- to life more abundantly.
For in order to bear much fruit,
the seed
must
die.
So, we die.
And with us, our dreams.
Our plans. Our ideas of how we will serve the Lord.
We die.
Not knowing, not seeing--
only trusting.
Trusting...
The Gardener knows what fruit we will one day bear. And He knows just how deep we must be buried.
He sees the wisdom in the death.
For He is the Life. He knows how abundant and glorious this new life will be.
So-- we die.
Simply trusting.
In the darkness.
In the cold aloneness.
In the crushing weight above us.
In the dirt around that misunderstands.
In the seemingly hopeless, endless nights.
In the pain of the utter loss of all we knew and were.
We wait.
Simply... trusting.
Life, Light--Him.
Will come...
in the spring time.
And in the spring, we shall
see...
glimpses
of the beauty
of
the dying.
No longer will
the darkness,
the weight,
the aloneness,
the uncertainty,
the misunderstanding
seem hard--nay,
they will seem
good.
For from that death
Life
has come.
Stars
There are nights
when
there are no
stars.
They are just--
gone.
No clouds....
no tent over our head--
just--
no stars.
Just blackness.
Empty; chillingly
blank.
Still--
we trust.
They are
there.
Hidden, but still
up above
the strange darkness...
They shine
brightly
faithfully
steadily.
Simply hidden...
though there
all along.
So we trust,
and wait.
Next night,
we look.
Hoping.
There--
stars.
Shining, just as always.
Never gone-- only hidden.
when
there are no
stars.
They are just--
gone.
No clouds....
no tent over our head--
just--
no stars.
Just blackness.
Empty; chillingly
blank.
Still--
we trust.
They are
there.
Hidden, but still
up above
the strange darkness...
They shine
brightly
faithfully
steadily.
Simply hidden...
though there
all along.
So we trust,
and wait.
Next night,
we look.
Hoping.
There--
stars.
Shining, just as always.
Never gone-- only hidden.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
