Glorying Fool

Bondage. Beating. Shipwreck. Stoning. Lashing.
Pain. Hunger. Thirst. Cold. Nakedness. Weakness.

From one travesty, misfortune, hardship to another. The list goes on.
Perils by sea. Perils by land. Perils by robbers, countrymen, heathen and city dwellers.

I have two questions. 

One—who could possibly endure all these things?
And two—how could anyone end such a list with gratitude?

Paul did.

And on top of a list a mile long, he also suffers from his "thorn in the flesh."
Yet he proclaims that Grace is sufficient. That strength is found through weakness.
(And through infirmity, and reproach, and persecution.)

And he calls himself the glorying fool. Because he refuses to abandon gratitude.
I marvel this man who possesses indomitable gratitude.

May I be such a one.

Beneath the Fog

I gaze out large picture windows to the frosted world beyond. Fog is frozen in time.

Everything is covered with tiny crystals just waiting for a shaft of light to set things sparkling.
It's a wonderland of beauty.

It's a world of potential…

Thoughts swirl softly. These snowflakes of the mind quickly absorb all external sounds as I contemplate life…

There seems to be a parable gazing back at me through the window.
A parable of my life. A parable for me.








This fog? Sometimes it grows thick, enshrouding me in a gray blanket. I cannot see the mountains in the distance or the sun above the clouds, yet I just have to trust they are there.

Then the fog freezes, and I shiver as crystals form. It seems my life has gone from bad to worse.  I'm stuck beneath the fog while icy fingertips paint me with the ice of trial.

Yet when the fog lifts, sun pierces the clouds and I am set sparkling. And I realize that the freezing fog was what made me beautiful.

God creates jewels in foggy shadows.

He calls me His jewel.

Vindicated.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Mother-daughter walks. I love these. Sharing. Solving. Scheming.

We pass stately pines interrupted by the occasional aspen while deep in a discussion about various struggles and trials. Suddenly, however, my mind bumps into a tree-sized thought.

This man. Why hadn't I thought of him before? He certainly experienced trials dished out with a giant serving spoon.

Our conversation becomes rather one-sided as I cogitate upon the ramifications of this century-old story.

His name was Job.

Grabbing my Bible immediately upon returning inside, I flip to the book with the same name. My attention is riveted as I read through chapter one and reach the last verses. Wait a second here. Re-read.

What's this that Job does? What's this that he says? Hasn't he just been stripped of family, fame and fortune in a matter of hours?

He falls down, worships and blesses the Lord.

Immediate shame. Is this life of gratitude my automatic response to suffering and trial?

But that's not all. I read on into the second chapter.

Another meeting in heaven is underway, and Satan appears with devilish insatisfaction written all over his face.

I can just hear the fatherly pride in the voice of God as he mentions the faithfulness of Job.

"Skin for skin," Satan declares. "Touch his bone and his flesh, and he will surely curse You to Your face!"

Permission granted.

Did God just give assent to suffering? It's hard to read it otherwise. Sometimes He allows trials and pain to obscure our pathway, yet always for a reason—that we may vindicate His character.


Job's trials are painfully personal now. Health challenges. Interesting.

Yet how does God's servant respond once again? He simply does his best to alleviate the problem and gives thanks for God's gifts regardless of whether they appear as such.

Suddenly I see this story in a different light. I see my own life, my own trials in a different way…

These things that I face are not just trials.

This is a controversy. God's reputation is at stake.

Could it be that my struggles are actually part of a test to vindicate God's character?

And if I fail to trust, if I allow faith to falter, isn't His name immediately shamed?

I want His character to be vindicated.

What will my life testify? 

Among Few

{Jeremiah 40}

The choice was offered to the prophet. 

Would he prefer to remain with the poorest of the poor that even the king of Babylon spurned? Or would he decide to accompany the captain to Babylon where he would be generously cared for?

Jeremiah chose the path of privation, of hardship, of adversity. Why?

Because status and wealth on earth has no effect upon God’s estimate of your value. The orphan child or penniless widow are held in equal esteem with the kings of nations. Nay, perhaps more. Because the hearts of poverty are often receptive hearts. 

And so Jeremiah remains among the few. Because here he knows his hearers will be more open-minded.

Never despise the poor, the few. It may just be where God is calling you.

God Always Has Friends

{Jeremiah 38}

They were completely false charges, and the king knew it. But he was too weak in character to resist the princes. So he feigned agreement with them, and gave the prophet into their hands for them to do whatever they pleased.

Jeremiah was thrown into a dark, damp, smelly, miry cistern. Not a pleasant place for any individual, much less God’s prophet.

The faithful prophet patiently and unswervingly clung to his God whom he knew would not fail him. Whatever God deemed fit for him to endure, Jeremiah would endure it with joy. But God had other plans.

In the court of kind Zedekiah was an Ethiopian eunuch. This man was a friend of God. And God laid upon his heart to petition on behalf of His prophet. Request granted, Ebedmelech proceeded to arrange for Jeremiah’s rescue. Ropes would be necessary to extract him from the cistern, but the raw ropes would not hurt his friend. No, with a tender heart the eunuch provided old soft rags for Jeremiah to use in order to bring him up with comfort.

God always has friends.

Regardless of your status, your age, your ethnicity, God wants you to be His friend. He wants to use you to bless the lives of others. And kindness given is always repaid in greater measures.

Will you be a friend of God?

False Accusations

{Jeremiah 37}

I turn page after page reading the fascinating accounts of undaunted individuals of the reformation; I trace the lives of countless faithful missionaries giving their all, even their lives, for the advancement of the gospel; I examine the servants of God through the ages, and I determine that the whole history of God’s messengers wears an almost unbroken line of sacrifice, of hardship, of false accusations, of misunderstandings. 

Jeremiah is no exception.

The devil is no ignorant bystander. He has had over six thousand years of practice to refine his tactics. He twists the minds of men into believing truth is error and error is truth, and most of them don’t even realize what has happened.

Yet when false accusations are shouted in our faces, we have a choice to make. And it all depends on the habits we have previous cultivated in our lives. If we have fostered the meekness, grace and humility of our Savior in little trials, they will also be manifest in the most difficult times.

It all depends on our surrender now.

Healed Wounds

{Jeremiah 30}

God had inflicted a serious wound. Not out of anger, but out of love. 

Yet because of their ugly injury, all so-called friends of the nation had fled. 

Not one offered medicines of healing. Not one pled for their cause. Israel was an outcast.

Yet that was exactly what Israel needed.

For in the pain and loneliness of feeling utterly forsaken and mortally wounded, they finally sensed their need. 

The concept shared with me by friends seems to jump out at me from the page.

Only when we are broken can we be blessed and transformed.

The Administer of punishment now promised to bind up the very wounds He had inflicted. To heal their bruises. To restore health and that, more abundant than before.

The yokes of bondage were broken. 

The nation that had held them captive so long set them free.

Blessings of fruitfulness and multiplied families were given.

Laughter was again heard within the homes of Jerusalem.

Yes, their wounds were healed by the Giver’s hand. Unfortunately the lessons God sought to teach them didn’t remain fresh in their memory, yet only because they forgot Him again in their prosperity.

--

My vision is expanded. I see new possibilities, thanks to friends who were willing to share. Our experience doesn’t have to follow their example of repeated failure. My brokenness can be my restoration, my transformation. My wound, the cause of healing. My sorrow, my joy.

Through brokenness I can find blessing and in the blessing, forever restoration.

Yokes of Love

{Jeremiah 26-28}

Sometimes God has to take radical measures. 

Sometimes our hearts are too stubborn to be sensitized and softened by gentler means. 

Sometimes it takes a yoke of iron…

He pleads. He intreats. He promises.

Yet sometimes words just fly past our shoulders. 

I think the concept of being yoked has become distorted. We tend to see the negative connotations when that is only part of the definition.

In reality though, a yoke is merely an instrument used to harmonize the work of two into one. To find surpassing strength of two combined rather than one alone. To give greater power, greater synergy and accomplish greater results.

It may be that we break the wooden yoke, yet God just gently replaces it with an iron one. Not in a tyrannical display, but in love alone. The yoke has a purpose in our training.

And isn’t that truly what I desire? To be so yoked with Christ that my every act is in harmony with Him? To find His surpassing strength and the results that accompany it?

Seventy Years

{Jeremiah 25}

Seventy. Perfection’s number plus a zero.

Yes, even this banishment evidenced greater love on the part of their Savior. 

Nothing He does is without purpose.

Yet because of the great knowledge He had given them, which they had spurned, their punishment must be in proportion.

What He longed for most was for this experience to act as a purging fire to purify them from all that has previously separated His adopted children from their Father’s side. For them to emerge from captivity rejoicing not only in physical freedom, but spiritual freedom in Him. 

He desired perfection for His people more than anything else…

And the same is true for us today.

There is nothing that God desires more than for us, as His representatives, to become perfect through His strength.

And it doesn’t have to take seventy years…

Burning Fire

{Jeremiah 20}

You can’t really blame Jeremiah. His life was one of hardship and constant derision.

I’m sure I would get tired of it too.

He had endured enough. Now he just wanted God to take care of all those who continually opposed him. 

All feelings of compassion had been drained from his heart. No message. No mercy. 

So he determines not to speak for God. But he cannot be silent…

The words of Omnipotence sear his heart like a burning fire.

And it is then that I realize…

Even in the midst of the fiercest trial or persecution, when it feels as though God is a distance fixture, He is yet within…

Burning away the dross of our carnal hearts.

And with fire comes pain. 

There is no ignorance of the blaze within. 

It sears. It hurts. It purges.

And it breaks our silence. 

When we are most vulnerable and weak, He can cleanse the deepest and reach our hearts best. 

And in the end, our scars will be trophies. The fire a prize. The pain our treasure…

Ashes

{Jeremiah 13}

“More soap?”

“Here.”

“Good. Now the brush.”

“Here.”

“Don’t you have a stiffer one?”

“We have already rubbed him raw and he’s just a black as ever.”

“Then I’ll wash him more, that’s all.”*

---

The words from a favorite Christian classic enter my ears, yet don’t stop there.
They enter my heart…

To us it seems so obvious. Of course you can’t wash off an Ethiopian’s rich skin tone.
It’s enough to be irritated about. Don’t they realize their efforts are futile?

Yet, do we?

Do we realize the utter impossibility of transforming our lives (or anyone's for that matter) into the image of Christ through our own endeavors?

Completely. Hopeless.

But I have news for you…
He has soap and brush infinitely more powerful than anything the two attempting to wash the Ethiopian possessed.

“… for He is like a refiner’s fire, and like fuller’s soap.”**

Yes, soap made from ashes. And a fire to turn dross into ashes.

Ashes.

Only when our dross is burst to ashes can we be instruments in the cleansing process.
And if my ashes can be someone’s salvation, then Lord, let me be burned…

Regardless of the pain.



* {Pilgrim’s Progress}
** {Malachi 3:2}

His Glory; Our Song

{Jeremiah 9}

Heart-melting…
Thorough testing…
Lessons in true wisdom…
The hidden gift of adversity…

Yes, these are His means for shaping soldiers. True soldiers.
And it is when we are smelted in His crucible that we learn our human wisdom is futile.

“Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom… but let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth Me…” {Jeremiah 9:23, 24}

When we know Him, all apparent hardships become fodder for glory’s blaze.

His glory is our song.

Gift of the Crucible

Has it really been an entire week since I was surrounded by nine energetic faces ranging from age one to thirteen and laughing with one of my best friends? It’s a thought hard to comprehend. So much has transpired between now and then, but the memories are as vivid as though it were yesterday.

Those 36 hours were filled with laughter, creativity, discipline, hugs, tears and mischief yet I wouldn’t have traded that last weekend for anything.

From dirty faces covered in the remnants of a traditional African meal, to reenacting David and Goliath, to playing tag in the oppressive heat, to cuddly kids, to dealing with obedience issues, to getting all nine kids through the shower, to hours of reading Swift Arrow, to making sure everyone ate their food, to baby smiles, to crying onion tears… Yes, they are memories I will never forget.

Yet after the flurry of the Crucible had abated and I found myself on a truck headed to Idaho, I contemplated the concept of a crucible again. And it was then that I realized that the crucible is the epitome of my Savior’s love.

For it is in the searing heat of trials that we learn to hear His voice best. It is only when we feel our complete incompetence to live a godly life that He can truly align our heartbeat with His and tune our lips to sing His praise…

The crucible is a precious gift.

Stamped with the Cross

 “All the blessings of this life and of the life to come are delivered to us stamped with the cross of Calvary.” {Christ’s Object Lessons, 362}

Not a blessing does God give without an inscription of the cross, concealed or visible. And He often proves adversity to be my greatest blessing.

Hardship and suffering are not situations I particularly desire.
In fact, my human flesh naturally recoils at the thought of sorrow or pain.

I was not originally created to ever experience these consequences of sin. Yet since the fall, these are Christ’s chosen instruments to purge my character from the traces of evil.

I stop and desperately attempt to consider sin with an eternal mindset…

In the light of Calvary, is there anything in my life worth holding onto?
Is there anything too dear for me to relinquish?

I can think of nothing…

Then why do I shrink from the approaching sound of adversity's footsteps? Why do I not embrace the pain, the heartache, the sorrow with unconditional gratitude? They are but a gift of love from my Father, a blessing stamped with the cross…