We have all gone through trials. Sometimes we are in the center of them, but at other times we are just on the fringe. The crisis touches us, but it revolves around someone else. There is nothing we can do about it, no help we can give the central characters but to pray. This seems like a situation of total helplessness, but actually we have just been placed in a position where we can focus more intently on our true calling. Whether we are in the soup ourselves, or just splashed by the hot bubbles as we watch nearby -- or even simply in a place of peaceful prosperity -- we are commanded to pray.
All of us who are on the outskirts, we have a job to do. We are like the old-fashioned warrior who guarded the keep. He had to stand out there in the cold and the rain and keep watchful and vigilant, even when he could not understand what good it did. The battle, the sweat and the blood were elsewhere, he was not in the thick of things, what did it matter when it seemed he could do nothing to help? But his work was vital, and so is ours, and we are not allowed to lie down on the job and be miserable. We just have to keep "praying through."
Picture yourself as that knight at the lone garrison. You did not ask for this job, but the King came to you and requested that you serve Him. It is lonely, and the terrain is hostile and wild. You do not understand why you have to stand guard in this out-of-the-way place by yourself. But whether you know it or not, this is a key point of passage between the King's main armory and the battle being fought in the mountains. Your orders are to stand vigilant to make sure that the unseen messengers from Him can pass through unhindered to reach the battlefield. You do not even have the satisfaction of seeing those messengers as they pass through, for they are swift and soft of foot, and they will not come where your mortal eyes can catch a glimpse. But you must not relax your vigil, for if you do, while your back is turned, the enemy might sneak in and overpower those messengers. He will rob them of the vital supplies they bear: answers to prayer.
This may sound like a wild fantasy tale that you want no part of, but spiritual warfare is real, and we are all caught up in it whether we like it or not. And the battle is gained or lost through prayer. The kingdom has already been won on the Cross, but each one of us must go up and possess our land in the name of the King, and that is never done without bloodshed. The enemy has no use for people who are no threat to him. It is the people who are in danger of taking back one of his key strongholds -- those are the people whom he targets hot and thick with his arrows. The greater the saint, the hotter the devil builds the fire, not realizing that all he can really do is fan the flames of the refiner, and out will come a purified vessel unto the King's glory.
When your loved ones are in the flames, remind yourself that you are a warrior. The Word is your armory, and you have two main weapons that the enemy knows nothing of: Love and Joy. The way to wield them is to praise. Speak only praise of your King, glorifying Him aloud for His wisdom, which is higher than ours; His power, which is unconquerable; His love, which shields each one of His warriors so that not an arrow can touch them; His mercy, which knows perfectly when to let the arrow find a mark in the best interests of His child; and above all, His blood, which redeemed each of us from the hand of a crafty enemy and made our blood-sprinkled hearts holy ground on which the enemy dares not tread.
We know we need to pray, but we lose sight of how important it is that we spend much of our prayer time in praise. The eternal outcome of the battle has already been determined, but it still rages in the hearts of men on earth. Praising even in the midst of terribly dark circumstances is what keeps the enemy from reclaiming any territory.
Someone recently said to me that she "wished there was joy in the journey." The joy is there, but sometimes we have to fight for it. The enemy works upon our minds and emotions to try to convince us that reality is what is seen, felt, tasted... In short, that he defines what is real. It is sometimes hard to remember that we have the privilege of being defined by something higher, something unseen. Something more Real than the world around us.
It can be so much easier to be where the heavy fighting is, because there is no time to think, no time for emotion. You just do what you have to do until the job is done or you "die trying." It is the watchmen, who have nothing to do but be vigilant, who find that war drapes so heavily over their shoulders. Why does our King not come and put an end to it all?
What if you were the King, who had sent His Son to a greater suffering than any man can ever know, in order to save His people from the hands of a terrible enemy? Would you be interested in a people who expected only good at your hands? Or would you delight in proving that a small handful of your subjects were so fully yours that you could do anything with them, ask anything of them, and they would still follow hard after you, willing to pay any price for love of you? God does not lightly afflict His people (Lam. 3.33). He does not charge us a single penny that He does not pay for us out of His own resources. But the hotter the fire, the more fully He proves that we are His and can stand in the face of anything the enemy might hurl at Him through us. Thus, the greater His ultimate glory, and the greater the final loss to the enemy. And while He has given a portion to all who call upon His name, yet the more territory we take for ourselves in the name of the King here, in Time, the greater our inheritance in eternity.
If the Lord has required you to walk down a dark hallway, then listen closely: He is asking you if you will sing while you do it. Can you sing, even while your heart bleeds? Certainly not, if you are so weighed down that all you can see and feel is the sorrow of your situation. But He can lift you up to sit in heavenly places in Christ Jesus (Eph. 2.6), so that, with Paul, you are more in touch with the glory you are winning for Christ by partaking of His sufferings, than you are with the pain of the suffering itself (Rom. 8.16-18).
No one should pretend they are not hurting when they are. (Look at Job. His friends tried to get him to admit that his rantings at God were sin, but he was just being honest. He was in pure misery, and he was not settling for anything less than God Himself as an answer.) Yet, forcing yourself to open your mouth and utter words of praise when you are miserable, of promise when you are fearful, of joy in His character as a God who loves even when you cannot understand how this affliction could spring from love... That is what keeps the enemy from, to use my father's phrase, "having us for snacks." That is what reclaims for us the joy of the Lord, which is both our strength(Neh. 8.10) and our rightful possession as children of a covenant symbolized by laughter (Gen. 17.19).1
We give glory to the Lord by showing Him that nothing the enemy can throw at us or our loved ones can convince us that God is less than His Word reveals Him to be.
____________________
1. Isaac means "he laughs."
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
The Master Weaver
The following is a journal entry by Martha Wing, dated April 30, 1898.
What a strange contradiction is a human being, with its weak will and strong desire! We least wish for that which is the easiest to obtain, and that which is the farthest from us is the object of our greatest longings.
Who is satisfied with the obtainable? Who would admire an edelweiss growing in a home-garden?
There is no satisfied ambition in this life. He who at morn sighed to reach a distant mountain height stands at noon on the sought-for pinnacle and turns his longing eyes to higher and more difficult ascents and plans to reach them at even. (Fortunate is he if the even comes to him.)
Do the duty that lies nearest. The easiest advice in the world and the most difficult to follow! How much pleasanter to ignore that familiar, tiresome work close at hand and reach for something higher, of more seeming importance! How often we do so, and how miserable the result!
I have been thinking today how easily we may pass by longed-for opportunities. We have some pet ambition, some desire that we see no way of gratifying. Unseen forces are at work; a strong Hand takes the thread of our life and weaves in and out and turns it here and twists it there, until all unknown it has almost reached the longed-for goal.
Then our willful selves take a hand. Some little question of right or wrong comes up. It is such a little thing, and desire is strong. We take the thread from the Hand and weave with our untrained fingers, for such a little way. But the pattern is wrong just in one place, so small a place no one will ever notice. It does not matter, or it does not seem to matter. But the Great Weaver knows we have woven out and around and beyond the longed-for position, and the opportunity is gone by forever.
When our spirits look back on that woven tapestry of life and read the pattern as it was intended, I wonder how many places will be woven wrongly, how many neglected opportunities will show, how well or how ill will appear the finished work.
I often think about this tapestry of life and wonder if the pattern is all laid and planned. Perhaps it is a beautiful, bright-colored pattern, flower-strewn and garlanded; perhaps it has soft greys and tans; perhaps it is dark and sombre. I fancy the warp and woof is all ready, just so much for each tapestry, colors all selected, pattern all planned. Under the Master Weaver we begin our work slowly and painstakingly. Every line and curve of the pattern is known to Him; there can be no mistake when He guides the threads.
And the tapestry is begun. Bit by bit, day in, day out, the work goes on; some portion of the pattern is finished. But mayhap the colors are dull at first. Our nearsighted eyes cannot see nor understand the meaning nor the beauty of the great plan as a whole. We chafe and fret as we watch the work go on. We cry that our lives must have some brightness, there must be some beauty in that growing pattern.
Alas! if our discontent becomes too great, and we take away the thread from the Master’s guidance. Here, where the Lord sought to have us weave a grey, we substitute a rose-color. That is delightful; how great an improvement is our way upon His. We weave on gleefully for awhile; then comes the discord. The rose-color, woven in, never to be released, after all does not harmonize with its surroundings.
Looking back, we see what we could not see before ‘tis done, that the change we have made has spoiled the pattern. Desperately, we strive to remedy the mistake. Without reflection, without comprehension, without higher help, we try one color and then another, but as fast as one is woven in we see some other would have been better. So we weave on, adding mistake to mistake in a miserable effort to rectify the first. How many tire, at last, and give up all effort to make a fair piece of work. Despairingly or indifferently they gaze backward at the soiled and ruined tapestry, or look forward to the future with no desire or effort to improve upon the past.
Others, working with a desperate defiance, cry, “We will make the life-tapestry beautiful. We will enjoy these beautiful colors that lie at hand.” And they weave them all in. After a time the brighter colors are gone; they have used them all; and oh! what endless measures of sombre colors must be woven in with no brightening tints to cheer the weary workers. In vain they cry out at the hardness of their fate. They have enjoyed their sunshine all in one long day; now come the shadows.
Or again, I fancy the weaver growing impatient of the slowness of the work, weaving double threads of brilliant colors, breaking, snarling, entangling them, and, too, life’s best forces are sapped, the threads give out, the pattern lies unfinished, the weaver’s hand is still.
Perhaps, when the work is done, the weaver, looking back at his work, cries unto his Master, “Why need my life have been so wretched? Look at the ruined tapestry with its hideous combination of colors. Was it for this that You taught me the art? Was it for this You placed me at the loom of Life?” And the Master Weaver answers, “Nay, not so; fair and good was the tapestry I planned for you. See, here is the pattern as it would have been under My guidance. Out of your own willful pride came that piece of weaving you despise.”
But I fancy there are those who, when they have first learned their own weakness, looking at their work, cry, “Our Master, we have done ill. We cannot weave without Thy help. We cannot understand Thy plan. We know our work is wrong, all wrong. The tapestry is ruined. Were it not better to drop the threads and destroy what is done?”
But the Master, looking down at the pitiful results of human weakness, smiles. “Nay, My child, you have made mistakes, but your work is not ruined. Know you not that, ‘out of evil, good may come’-” And, “all things work together for the good of them that love the Lord? Are not all things possible to Thy God? Can I not make even sin turn to My glory? ‘Tis true, the wrong is done, but My skill can weave the threads remaining until, altho’ the pattern is changed, it need not be less beautiful.”
Then, under His guidance the human weaver begins again, toilingly, taught care and patience by his earlier carelessness.
And the tapestry grows strong and fair and beautiful, and we, looking on, cannot see the one spot where the weaver erred. It is forgiven and forgotten by the Great Master, but the weaver knows, and knows too, that from that early error good has come, because, at once the faulty threads were put in the Master’s Hands, for He alone could use them aright.
Transcribed from chapter 8 of Radiant Glory: The Life of Martha Wing Robinson, by Gordon P. Gardiner.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Door of Humility
Have you ever been misunderstood? I hear you laughing at the absurdity of such a question. Or perhaps you cannot laugh about it yet.
A preacher I sat under as a child used to say that perhaps the greatest cross in our lives is when we are misunderstood. That preacher also said that we don't have the Holy Ghost's perspective on something until we can laugh about it.
I was misunderstood once. "Faithful are the wounds of a friend. [Pro. 27.6]" I repeated this to myself over and over, all the while wondering resentfully where exactly the faithfulness came in. "Let the righteous smite me; it shall be a kindness: and let him reprove me; it shall be an excellent oil, which shall not break my head... [Ps. 141.5]" So I told myself, while clutching what felt like a broken head and wondering with what right this person should be considered among the righteous, after such a nasty mess.
It took months, years... a long time of slowly working through it to get to the real crux of the matter.
"There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother. [Pro. 18.24]" A friend, not many friends. While Damian and I fondly quote that to each other to describe our own relationship, we are both aware that there is only one Friend who will never fall short. This is the Friend who wounded me. Another friend, with what he thinks are the best of intentions, can wound out of the corruption of his own heart; but the wounds of this Friend are always, faithfully, for our good.
Only when this Friend smites me, is it a kindness. Only when He reproves, is it an anointing oil. I have been rebuked by those who not only had no authority over me, but were entirely wrong in their assessment of the situation; and I have been rebuked by those who were truly speaking the Holy Spirit's wisdom to me. But in every case, it is the Lord Himself who allows the rebuff, and it is He, not man, who is the teacher -- and He is not always teaching the same lesson the human agent thought I needed to learn.
Moffat translates the latter half of Ps. 141.5 as, "I would pray ever to have their [the righteous'] goodwill." Why do I need to desire the goodwill of believers? So I asked myself as I pondered that verse in my pain of rejection and betrayal. That, however, is the wrong question. What I should be desiring is the goodwill of the only One Who is righteous, for without His goodwill, I cannot stand in His presence. It is this righteous Friend who smites me. "There is none righteous, no, not one [Rom. 3.10]" except the King of Glory Himself, and no blow can fall that is not sanctioned by His will. The NKJV translates, "...let my head not refuse it." Indeed, let me not refuse that anointing oil of rebuke from the King Himself, for it is His good opinion I desire, and no one else's. And His judgment is always redemptive. He does not expose except to correct the source of the problem.
Damian once told me that Cain's ultimate downfall was not that he brought fruit to the altar. It was not that he killed his brother. It was not even that he lied about it to God when He brought it up. By refusing to respect Cain's sacrifice, God was placing His finger on something in Cain that needed to be dealt with. The problem was that, instead of welcoming the redemptive judgment of the Lord -- for He never exposes sin without offering the antidote for it, therefore His judgment is always redemptive -- Cain became angry and his "countenance fell" (Gen. 4.5).
That is so often what we do when we feel the finger of the Lord touching something in us. Instead of saying, "Lord, what is it that you are showing me?" we try to bite the finger. We get angry. When I was so terribly misunderstood, that is exactly what I did. I got angry. My rights had been violated, and I was incredibly hurt. It was a long time before I understood that it was the Lord I was angry with. He had allowed this undeserved wrong, and in so doing He was putting His finger on something in me that I did not want shown up. It is funny how what comes to light often has little to do with the obvious circumstances. But we don't even have to know what it is in us that requires the purifying heat from the finger of God. What matters is how we respond to the finger.
The only appropriate response is to open ourselves up to His searching, that He may make us acceptable in His sight. If Cain had done that, there would have been no murder. Even if He had done it belatedly -- if, instead of saying, "My punishment is greater than I can bear, [Gen. 4.13]" he had said, "I know that this whole thing started because I did not want to hear what you had to say about my heart..." -- I believe that the end of the story would have been very different.
But opening ourselves up to that faithful Friend requires humility. Cora Harris MacIlravy, in the third chapter of her wonderful, out-of-print exposition of the Song of Solomon, Christ and His Bride (which I was amazed to find transcribed on the web), speaks of some of the chambers into which the King brings us. In order to go on at all with the Lord, we must enter the chamber of Humility. The door of this chamber is very small and low, and to enter it we must stoop and crawl. No one wants to do that. We will try to find any other way before we will lie down and creep on our bellies into that place of humility. There are times when I have asked the Lord to humble me, and in response He, in His mercy, has knocked me to my hands and knees in front of this door. But it's a peculiar thing that it is not enough to grovel in the dust outside the door. We actually have to crawl through it.
This is what seemed so impossible to Cain. It is what I wanted to refuse to do so long ago when my Friend afflicted me through the hand of someone else I thought was a friend. Like Cain, when God warned him that to open the door to sin would mean that "unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him [Gen. 4.7]," I want to hoard my sin away, to protect it from the exposing Light of the Word. Only recently I found myself on my knees once again in front of that ubiquitous door, angry with the Friend who had afflicted me and crouching protectively over the secret places of my domain. I knew that I was going nowhere until I released my right to rule over myself and, clinging to the feet of my true King, began to crawl on my belly through that doorway.
This is the cross. The servant is not above his lord. [Ma. 10.24] Our Lord was misunderstood. He was wounded by those who called themselves His friends. He was rebuked and reviled by those who had not the smallest claim over Him. Why are we always so astonished when we are asked to stoop down in the dust and follow our Forerunner as He takes His cross upon His bleeding back and stoops down to enter through a door impossibly low? Why are we so indignant when someone misunderstands us, when not one person on this earth grasped what our Lord was really about? "It is good for me that I have been afflicted; that I might learn thy statutes. [Ps. 119.71]"
When, through the enabling power of the blood of the Lamb, we finally stoop to enter, we discover that the place of Humility is one of the loveliest of all the chambers in the King's house. There we find the Holy Ghost's perspective. There we find laughter. There we find the Cross.
A preacher I sat under as a child used to say that perhaps the greatest cross in our lives is when we are misunderstood. That preacher also said that we don't have the Holy Ghost's perspective on something until we can laugh about it.
I was misunderstood once. "Faithful are the wounds of a friend. [Pro. 27.6]" I repeated this to myself over and over, all the while wondering resentfully where exactly the faithfulness came in. "Let the righteous smite me; it shall be a kindness: and let him reprove me; it shall be an excellent oil, which shall not break my head... [Ps. 141.5]" So I told myself, while clutching what felt like a broken head and wondering with what right this person should be considered among the righteous, after such a nasty mess.
It took months, years... a long time of slowly working through it to get to the real crux of the matter.
"There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother. [Pro. 18.24]" A friend, not many friends. While Damian and I fondly quote that to each other to describe our own relationship, we are both aware that there is only one Friend who will never fall short. This is the Friend who wounded me. Another friend, with what he thinks are the best of intentions, can wound out of the corruption of his own heart; but the wounds of this Friend are always, faithfully, for our good.
Only when this Friend smites me, is it a kindness. Only when He reproves, is it an anointing oil. I have been rebuked by those who not only had no authority over me, but were entirely wrong in their assessment of the situation; and I have been rebuked by those who were truly speaking the Holy Spirit's wisdom to me. But in every case, it is the Lord Himself who allows the rebuff, and it is He, not man, who is the teacher -- and He is not always teaching the same lesson the human agent thought I needed to learn.
Moffat translates the latter half of Ps. 141.5 as, "I would pray ever to have their [the righteous'] goodwill." Why do I need to desire the goodwill of believers? So I asked myself as I pondered that verse in my pain of rejection and betrayal. That, however, is the wrong question. What I should be desiring is the goodwill of the only One Who is righteous, for without His goodwill, I cannot stand in His presence. It is this righteous Friend who smites me. "There is none righteous, no, not one [Rom. 3.10]" except the King of Glory Himself, and no blow can fall that is not sanctioned by His will. The NKJV translates, "...let my head not refuse it." Indeed, let me not refuse that anointing oil of rebuke from the King Himself, for it is His good opinion I desire, and no one else's. And His judgment is always redemptive. He does not expose except to correct the source of the problem.
Damian once told me that Cain's ultimate downfall was not that he brought fruit to the altar. It was not that he killed his brother. It was not even that he lied about it to God when He brought it up. By refusing to respect Cain's sacrifice, God was placing His finger on something in Cain that needed to be dealt with. The problem was that, instead of welcoming the redemptive judgment of the Lord -- for He never exposes sin without offering the antidote for it, therefore His judgment is always redemptive -- Cain became angry and his "countenance fell" (Gen. 4.5).
That is so often what we do when we feel the finger of the Lord touching something in us. Instead of saying, "Lord, what is it that you are showing me?" we try to bite the finger. We get angry. When I was so terribly misunderstood, that is exactly what I did. I got angry. My rights had been violated, and I was incredibly hurt. It was a long time before I understood that it was the Lord I was angry with. He had allowed this undeserved wrong, and in so doing He was putting His finger on something in me that I did not want shown up. It is funny how what comes to light often has little to do with the obvious circumstances. But we don't even have to know what it is in us that requires the purifying heat from the finger of God. What matters is how we respond to the finger.
The only appropriate response is to open ourselves up to His searching, that He may make us acceptable in His sight. If Cain had done that, there would have been no murder. Even if He had done it belatedly -- if, instead of saying, "My punishment is greater than I can bear, [Gen. 4.13]" he had said, "I know that this whole thing started because I did not want to hear what you had to say about my heart..." -- I believe that the end of the story would have been very different.
But opening ourselves up to that faithful Friend requires humility. Cora Harris MacIlravy, in the third chapter of her wonderful, out-of-print exposition of the Song of Solomon, Christ and His Bride (which I was amazed to find transcribed on the web), speaks of some of the chambers into which the King brings us. In order to go on at all with the Lord, we must enter the chamber of Humility. The door of this chamber is very small and low, and to enter it we must stoop and crawl. No one wants to do that. We will try to find any other way before we will lie down and creep on our bellies into that place of humility. There are times when I have asked the Lord to humble me, and in response He, in His mercy, has knocked me to my hands and knees in front of this door. But it's a peculiar thing that it is not enough to grovel in the dust outside the door. We actually have to crawl through it.
This is what seemed so impossible to Cain. It is what I wanted to refuse to do so long ago when my Friend afflicted me through the hand of someone else I thought was a friend. Like Cain, when God warned him that to open the door to sin would mean that "unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him [Gen. 4.7]," I want to hoard my sin away, to protect it from the exposing Light of the Word. Only recently I found myself on my knees once again in front of that ubiquitous door, angry with the Friend who had afflicted me and crouching protectively over the secret places of my domain. I knew that I was going nowhere until I released my right to rule over myself and, clinging to the feet of my true King, began to crawl on my belly through that doorway.
This is the cross. The servant is not above his lord. [Ma. 10.24] Our Lord was misunderstood. He was wounded by those who called themselves His friends. He was rebuked and reviled by those who had not the smallest claim over Him. Why are we always so astonished when we are asked to stoop down in the dust and follow our Forerunner as He takes His cross upon His bleeding back and stoops down to enter through a door impossibly low? Why are we so indignant when someone misunderstands us, when not one person on this earth grasped what our Lord was really about? "It is good for me that I have been afflicted; that I might learn thy statutes. [Ps. 119.71]"
When, through the enabling power of the blood of the Lamb, we finally stoop to enter, we discover that the place of Humility is one of the loveliest of all the chambers in the King's house. There we find the Holy Ghost's perspective. There we find laughter. There we find the Cross.
Your hands made me and formed me;
give me understanding to learn your commands.
May those who fear you rejoice
when they see me,
for I have put my hope in your word.
I know, O LORD, that your laws are righteous,
and in faithfulness You have afflicted me.
May your unfailing love be my comfort,
according to your promise
to your servant.
Let your compassion come to me
that I may live,
for your law is my delight.
May the arrogant be put to shame
for wronging me without cause;
but I will meditate on your precepts...
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Night Dread
Two consecutive nights last week, Liam woke us crying in the night.
The first time, my dad was here as a one-night guest while passing through on a business trip. Damian and I had already stayed up far past our usual bedtime praying with him, and bed sounded very welcome at 11pm. Before I could settle myself for sleep, however, Liam began screaming. (Everything Liam does, he does with passion, and crying is no exception.) I finally ascertained from him that his neck hurt, and so I laid hands on it and prayed. He settled right back to sleep, but five minutes later he was screaming again. This time he said it was his left ear. I prayed again, rebuking this thing in the name of Jesus and asking for comfort and healing.
I had just dozed off when the screaming began again. This time I made our head of house get up and come with me. Liam was somewhat hysterical, and we had to work to get him calmed down before we could understand what he was saying. We finally sorted it out: "I asked Him to heal it," Liam wailed, "and He didn't do it!" The poor little guy was caught where we all are with regard to our health. We know He can heal; we are sure He intends to do it; but we don't see it manifest yet. Deep down, as Oswald Chambers says, we are all afraid "that our Lord will be bested" -- that this thing will turn out to be too big even for Him.
That night I was up until 1am with Liam. Each time I made it back to bed and just fell into sleep, the screaming would begin again. Damian laid hands on Liam and prayed for him several times, once anointing him with oil. But after a while Damian fell soundly asleep (his ability to tune out the nighttime wailing has improved with over four years' practice) and I was left to fend off delirious rantings:
He was fine the next day. In fact, he and Parker played together beautifully, despite any fatigue from the disruption of the night before. It was when it started again the next night that I realized something...
I fear the night.
I don't think about it on a conscious level, but somehow I dread the potential the night has to toss me about on billows instead of cradling me in a haven. In the night, as I have written before, somehow molehills that are not even visible in the day just shoot up into mountains.
The first time, my dad was here as a one-night guest while passing through on a business trip. Damian and I had already stayed up far past our usual bedtime praying with him, and bed sounded very welcome at 11pm. Before I could settle myself for sleep, however, Liam began screaming. (Everything Liam does, he does with passion, and crying is no exception.) I finally ascertained from him that his neck hurt, and so I laid hands on it and prayed. He settled right back to sleep, but five minutes later he was screaming again. This time he said it was his left ear. I prayed again, rebuking this thing in the name of Jesus and asking for comfort and healing.
I had just dozed off when the screaming began again. This time I made our head of house get up and come with me. Liam was somewhat hysterical, and we had to work to get him calmed down before we could understand what he was saying. We finally sorted it out: "I asked Him to heal it," Liam wailed, "and He didn't do it!" The poor little guy was caught where we all are with regard to our health. We know He can heal; we are sure He intends to do it; but we don't see it manifest yet. Deep down, as Oswald Chambers says, we are all afraid "that our Lord will be bested" -- that this thing will turn out to be too big even for Him.
That night I was up until 1am with Liam. Each time I made it back to bed and just fell into sleep, the screaming would begin again. Damian laid hands on Liam and prayed for him several times, once anointing him with oil. But after a while Damian fell soundly asleep (his ability to tune out the nighttime wailing has improved with over four years' practice) and I was left to fend off delirious rantings:
"Momo, I just can't wait until morning to go see Grampa Bug!"I did. He wanted a break from the pain, from being exhausted and awake, bored and frustrated. From the night.
"Liam, it is the middle of the night. Everyone is sleeping, including Grampa."
"Well, then I think I just need to take a break!!"
"A break from what, Liam?"
"I don't know!!!"
He was fine the next day. In fact, he and Parker played together beautifully, despite any fatigue from the disruption of the night before. It was when it started again the next night that I realized something...
I fear the night.
I don't think about it on a conscious level, but somehow I dread the potential the night has to toss me about on billows instead of cradling me in a haven. In the night, as I have written before, somehow molehills that are not even visible in the day just shoot up into mountains.
I don't usually have periods of insomnia, although it has been known to happen. My most recent and longest standing issue is that my body chooses the night to start dumping toxic waste into my blader. I lay myself down to slumber, and no matter how tired I am, no matter how quickly or slowly sleep comes, just as I doze off I am jerked awake by the need to empty the bladder -- never mind that I already made sure it was done properly before I got into bed.
I lie back down and doze off, and again my body insists on a trip to the bathroom. I am likely to go through a couple more rounds before I finally get to sleep. It is as if there is a control issue somewhere, and when I begin to relax my grip on things to let sleep take me, I can't -- or finally don't -- hold back, and there is (whoosh!) a big system dump.
(I hear you telling me not to drink after dinner. It's just not quite that simple.)
It goes on the rest of the night, too. Most nights, I will have to wake up and make a bathroom trip at least once before the night is over. A naturopath would have a heyday with me. It is apparent that there are bodily systems that are not getting fully supported. Waking you up in the night to urinate is one of your body's ways of of shouting for help, didn't you know.
I refuse to keep a clock where I can see it in my bedroom, because I tend to be ruled by the clock. As Damian says, "I have to know how much sleep I get so I know how I should be feeling in the morning. I might be mistakenly perky!" The clock also encourages me to analyze my body clock. Not until the second night, when the screaming started promptly at 11pm, did I realize this is Liam's gallbladder meridian. From what I could tell, he was complaining of something like a shooting pain in his external ear. From the point of view of natural medicine, a weakness in his gallbladder was likely causing an energy imbalance in the body, which by strange cause and effect was triggering the ear pain.
It is not surprising. More corroborative evidence for gallbladder trouble, of which Liam has a history. So when Damian was praying for Liam's ear, I was mentally praying for his gallbladder. But the bottom line is that I don't think it does any good for me to know that Liam's gallbladder is probably weak, or that I am or am not waking up during the liver meridian every night. It is all one and the same: I am helpless, and I need an answer. I have a Great Physician who has an answer for me. So I come to Him with my symptoms, and I leave the treatment in His hands. And yes, Liam, sometimes there is waiting involved. As I said to a friend the other day, the waiting in the dark is the training.
I suspect -- no, I know -- the fact that I am unable to cast myself into sound sleep for a full, restful night is a heart issue, not a bodily issue. When I have had my mountaintop experiences and tasted full surrender to the Lord, I remember literally casting myself upon Him as I went to sleep, the way a tired child would curl up in his father's arms to shut out the world. And my slumber was always complete. But we are given that vision on the mountain and then expected to descend into the valley and live it out.
In so doing, we find rocks and stubble that make the going bumpy. I don't have to look at a rock and analyze just how it got placed right there, or how deep it might run into the earth, or what tools might be needed to get it out, or how I might make a workaround. That rock is just an indication that no fruit-bearing plants can grow here until some divine blasting is initiated by the Holy Ghost. A rock in my gallbaldder, a rock in my soul... it is all the same territory to Him. Yet He commands that I up and take the hill country (He will drive out the enemies, but we have to go up to battle) and turn it into a fruitful dwelling place. He gives us the view of the mountain that, like Caleb, we might take it for our own.
Now that I understand that I tend to fear what the night will bring, I have started saying with David, "I will bless the Lord, who hath given me counsel: my reins also instruct me in the night season. [Ps. 16.7]" I had never understood that verse until this context, but now I understand that I have an appointment with God in sleep, because there He can do things with my heart He cannot do when I am awake -- and the Spirit within me, my reins, is instructing my very body in the night seasons, no matter how it may look like I am entirely going to pot. I have a hope that extends even to my flesh. [v. 9]"
So, Lord, I commit myself to You. I cast myself upon You afresh for the governing of my body, soul, and spirit. Thank You that You constantly maintain the lot that You have chosen for me. No matter how it looks to me, I have health flowing as a fountain from its source in the Sun of righteousness; and no matter what may contrive to interrupt my night of healing sleep, You give rest and grace sufficient for all tomorrow's trials. I confess my fear and doubt, and thank You that You both require faith from me and undertake to provide it for me. I will fall asleep in Your hands tonight.
So, Lord, I commit myself to You. I cast myself upon You afresh for the governing of my body, soul, and spirit. Thank You that You constantly maintain the lot that You have chosen for me. No matter how it looks to me, I have health flowing as a fountain from its source in the Sun of righteousness; and no matter what may contrive to interrupt my night of healing sleep, You give rest and grace sufficient for all tomorrow's trials. I confess my fear and doubt, and thank You that You both require faith from me and undertake to provide it for me. I will fall asleep in Your hands tonight.
"And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony. [Re. 12.11]"
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Reality Defined at Calvary
Last night I was very tired. I think I could have gone to bed at 8:00 and fallen asleep immediately. When I made it there a little after 9:00, I could not sleep. The cough that came out of nowhere a couple of weeks ago and has hung around, sporadic but determined, suddenly turned juicy and asthmatic. I was lying there enduring, listening to Scripture on my iPod, until I finally got fed up and got up.
At night I frequently get hit with weird symptoms that don't trouble me during the day. Last night it came to me that they are quite literally attacks. I feel like the enemy is trying to get me to fall for reality as he defines it, not as it was defined by God at Calvary. I mean, you can reason all you want about how it would be normal for the body to suppress certain things during the day and then have to deal with them at night. But some things just don't add up. Acne will appear one day and disappear the next, then reappear on the third. I've been having trouble with foot odor, a classic sign my body is dealing with something. But in the mornings my tongue is a healthy pink, a clear indication that my body is clean and detoxed.
When you take a stand for health, as I did in my last post, and claim that "the exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who believe" (Eph. 1.19) is sufficient for my physical body... When you determine to walk by faith, not by sight... Then the enemy inevitably comes to you and says, "Well, you're banking all on something supernatural, something that just can't be. This is reality, what you see around you, and I control it."
The enemy is wily. He comes at us with the very thing that is calculated to distract us from keeping our eyes turned upon the One who is the Answer to everything. The very thing that makes walking by faith and not by sight so difficult for me, personally.
There is a phrase we use in our family, "standing against" something. I have been standing against this cough for two weeks. Sometimes I get so lost in a sea of symptoms that I forget what it means to stand and have to remind myself. I think it means to go on as if the thing were not there. This means taking Christ as your strength. It means cheerfully going on with the daily tasks, without deigning to acknowledge your symptom by so much as a complaint. I'm not advocating an all-in-your-head form of denial, à la Christian Science. I'm saying there is overcoming power, and it is obedience for me to avail myself of it.
Somebody, probably Oswald Chambers, says that God can do a lot with us in sleep because we are not consciously at war with Him. At our house, we look upon sleep as a divine appointment with God. I think that is one reason that these symptoms flare up in the night, for both me and Damian. The enemy would very much like to keep us from that appointment.
So last night I tried to just ignore my symptoms and go to sleep. After a while, it became apparent that something stronger was needed. I have been learning that the key to an overcoming life for me is praise - vocal and sonant thanksgiving. When you are feeling tired, dejected, or sick, the hardest thing in the world to do is open your mouth and speak or sing praise aloud. But it dispels the funk every time, if only for those few measures of speech.
My mom would have a "praise fest," where she gets her autoharp out and sings - or maybe shouts - praises to the Lord. I feel a little inhibited by the fact that I live in a town home with neighbors on both sides... especially at night. So instead of singing, I remembered that "the Lord turned the captivity of Job, when he prayed for his friends" (Job 42.10) and I got on my knees. I started at A and prayed for everyone I could think of whose name began with each letter of the alphabet. The cough calmed immediately. I made it to G before I got very sleepy and went to bed. (If your name begins with one of those letters, I hope I prayed for you. But I keep remembering other people: "Oh, Andy starts with A... and I forgot Dotti when I was on D...")
I'm sticking with the Reality I see in the Scriptures, however things may appear.
At night I frequently get hit with weird symptoms that don't trouble me during the day. Last night it came to me that they are quite literally attacks. I feel like the enemy is trying to get me to fall for reality as he defines it, not as it was defined by God at Calvary. I mean, you can reason all you want about how it would be normal for the body to suppress certain things during the day and then have to deal with them at night. But some things just don't add up. Acne will appear one day and disappear the next, then reappear on the third. I've been having trouble with foot odor, a classic sign my body is dealing with something. But in the mornings my tongue is a healthy pink, a clear indication that my body is clean and detoxed.
When you take a stand for health, as I did in my last post, and claim that "the exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who believe" (Eph. 1.19) is sufficient for my physical body... When you determine to walk by faith, not by sight... Then the enemy inevitably comes to you and says, "Well, you're banking all on something supernatural, something that just can't be. This is reality, what you see around you, and I control it."
The enemy is wily. He comes at us with the very thing that is calculated to distract us from keeping our eyes turned upon the One who is the Answer to everything. The very thing that makes walking by faith and not by sight so difficult for me, personally.
There is a phrase we use in our family, "standing against" something. I have been standing against this cough for two weeks. Sometimes I get so lost in a sea of symptoms that I forget what it means to stand and have to remind myself. I think it means to go on as if the thing were not there. This means taking Christ as your strength. It means cheerfully going on with the daily tasks, without deigning to acknowledge your symptom by so much as a complaint. I'm not advocating an all-in-your-head form of denial, à la Christian Science. I'm saying there is overcoming power, and it is obedience for me to avail myself of it.
Somebody, probably Oswald Chambers, says that God can do a lot with us in sleep because we are not consciously at war with Him. At our house, we look upon sleep as a divine appointment with God. I think that is one reason that these symptoms flare up in the night, for both me and Damian. The enemy would very much like to keep us from that appointment.
So last night I tried to just ignore my symptoms and go to sleep. After a while, it became apparent that something stronger was needed. I have been learning that the key to an overcoming life for me is praise - vocal and sonant thanksgiving. When you are feeling tired, dejected, or sick, the hardest thing in the world to do is open your mouth and speak or sing praise aloud. But it dispels the funk every time, if only for those few measures of speech.
My mom would have a "praise fest," where she gets her autoharp out and sings - or maybe shouts - praises to the Lord. I feel a little inhibited by the fact that I live in a town home with neighbors on both sides... especially at night. So instead of singing, I remembered that "the Lord turned the captivity of Job, when he prayed for his friends" (Job 42.10) and I got on my knees. I started at A and prayed for everyone I could think of whose name began with each letter of the alphabet. The cough calmed immediately. I made it to G before I got very sleepy and went to bed. (If your name begins with one of those letters, I hope I prayed for you. But I keep remembering other people: "Oh, Andy starts with A... and I forgot Dotti when I was on D...")
I'm sticking with the Reality I see in the Scriptures, however things may appear.
Lift Jesus higher
Lift Jesus higher
Lift Him up for the world to see
He said, "If I be lifted up from the earth
I will draw all men unto Me"
This healing's mine
This healing's mine
It is mine, though I cannot see
He said, "I am the Lord that healeth thee, O my child
I am the Lord that healeth thee"
This healing's mine
This healing's mine
It is mine, though I cannot see
By His wounds I am healed, 1 Peter 2.24
It is written, it is sure, it is for me
This healing's mine
This healing's mine
It is mine, though I cannot see
The Sun of Righteousness arose with my healing in His wings
And my foes I shall tread under my feet
This healing's mine
This healing's mine
It is mine, though I cannot see
I dance and sing, shout and rejoice, for the power of His Voice
For the Lord has turned my captivity
I've come for bread
I've come for bread
It's the children's bread I need
It pleases You for me to come
Of Your Word this is the sum
I am here for bread, O Lord, feed me
Friday, July 4, 2008
A Stand for Health
I once thoroughly exhausted the allopathic medical world in a futile search for a cure for my symptoms. Then I discovered naturopathy and completely changed tactics. I tried a holistic approach, used herbal and homeopathic remedies, and ate a varied, healthful, and entirely natural diet made from scratch. I became wise in the lore of nature's medicine.
There is no question that I and the rest of my family made progress with our health concerns - slow progress at first, and then picking up to a cruising speed. Natural medicine has the mainstream medical world beat, hands down. It is a higher wisdom. For those who are willing to see it as simply a different kind of science, it has many amazing tools to offer. Not a single one is a magic bullet, but used together, they can get you quite far indeed along the road toward that elusive goal called "health."
But somewhere along the line, I began to look at things a little differently. I said I was wise in natural lore. Prov. 3.7 tells me to "be not wise in thine own eyes." Those of us who have been disillusioned by allopathy see how readily and completely most of the Western world reveres the medical field beyond all logic. Through a long, eye-opening process, I began to see that I was in danger of making a God of naturopathy.
There are those who claim that God gave us brains, and He expects us to use them to avail ourselves of all the tools of health which He has also provided for us in nature. It sounds good. I certainly bought into the idea. But lately the Holy Spirit has been bringing to light Scriptures which cut right across that theory.
The last time I went to the iridologist, she told me I was perfectly healthy. From here, we were just "being picky." But I know with certainty that this unprecedented level of health came from finally beginning to let go of the idea of the kind of health I think I need to have and learning to just be a sheep under the Shepherd's care. The doctor herself admitted that there was nothing in anything she had suggested or I had done that could account for such a dramatic change. Healing had taken place in the only way true healing can: from the inside out, from the spirit to the body.
I can thoroughly identify with the woman in Luke 8.43-4 who spent her life's savings on doctors. I had tried every resource, when what I really needed - what anyone needs - is to lay hold of the One with power to heal. The more I go on with Him and in His Word, the more reaching for answers anywhere else seems preposterous. Before, I ran around to every intelligent source I could find, incorporated their wisdom into my arsenal, and asked the Lord to bless this tool to my use. I was willing to expend most of my energy just to maintain a good, but not perfect, state of health. Now...
Now, I find myself unable to settle for anything that is less than what He, the Master Healer, the Great Physician, can give me. And to obtain that, I must leave all other answers, all halfway and three-quarter measures, behind me. "Who is among you that feareth the Lord," Isaiah asks, "that obeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light?" What is your darkness? Is it poor health? Depression? Your job or your marriage disintegrating around you? Where are you in the dark and so desperate for light that you will do anything? God gives us our answer in this passage: "let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God." Then He warns us of the consequences of trying in desperation to create a little light for ourselves, rather than waiting in the dark for Him. "Behold, all ye that kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks: walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand: ye shall lie down in sorrow." (Isa. 50.10-11)
I can no longer glibly view all these "tools" as gifts from the Lord for my use. They are starting to look dangerously like answers held up as a distraction from the One Answer that I need. "God hath made man upright: but they have sought out many inventions." (Ecc. 7.29) Man has become adept at seeking out inventions that will allow him to stand self-sufficient and apart from the One who created Him for a mutually fulfilling relationship with Himself.
By now my readers may have consigned me to the farm as a fanaticist or worse. "Oh," they say, "I see, so she's gone over to the _____ camp." You fill in the blank; there are many fanatical groups you could choose from. You will undoubtedly see me as someone who has backed herself into a corner by a misguidedly narrow interpretation of Scripture. I don't care. I am not writing this to bring converting light to others' errors, nor am I just parroting what many another has had to say on the subject of faith-healing. I am expressing, because I need to do so, what the Holy Spirit is saying to me through the Scriptures.
I don't know what exactly this means for me. I don't know if I will ever take another vitamin or herbal cleanse. I don't know if I will go to the chiropractor or not. I only know that I choose to bank all on God's Word and refuse to acknowledge by word or deed any answer that springs from another source. I am not binding myself to a new set of principles. I am not after a creed, I am after God Himself.
It is said of Moses, whom God "knew face to face" (Deut. 34.10), that when he died at 120 years old, "his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated." (v. 7) Caleb points out to Joshua that he is as strong to take Canaan at age 85 as he was 45 years prior, when Moses first sent him to spy out the land. (Josh. 14.7-11) These two men are the only ones from that first generation of Israelites (if we take Joshua to be a half generation younger) to have served the Lord with all their hearts and with strong faith. That their physical bodies were so beautifully sustained seems to me not so much a miraculous aberration, but the natural outworkings of a heart so in tune with the Lord's presence in their lives. "...fear the Lord, and depart from evil. It shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones." (Prov. 3.7-8)
"Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?" (I Cor. 3.16) It is His temple, His body. Can I suppose He will leave it to my paltry wisdom to care for? "Take no thought for your life... Consider the ravens... and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?" (Luke 12.22,24) "Do not ye yet understand, that whatsoever enetereth in at the mouth goeth into the belly, and is cast out into the draught? But those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart; and they defile the man." (Mat. 15:17-18) Here Jesus makes it clear than I can leave what I eat, and the processing of it, to Him. My body is His temple, and I do not intend to fill it with nitrites; but if I must eat the nitrites, they cannot defile my body. It is the "many inventions" of my heart I need to beware.
That Jesus can heal is never in question. That He is always moved to compassion to heal everyone with faith to receive it I no longer doubt. "I will; be thou clean." (Mark 1.41) "Thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace." (Luke 8.48) What is of far greater importance is that He expects me to let Him heal me, fill me, be my all-in-all. "And hath put all things under his feet, and gave him to be the head over all things to the church, Which is his body, the fulness of him that filleth all in all." (Eph. 1.22-23)
"Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?... Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thy health shall spring forth speedily..." (Isa. 58.6-8) Can I, through any resource of my own, myself loose the bands of wickedness, or let the oppressed go free, etc.? Of course not. But it has been done for me! All that remains for me to do is identify myself with the work that has been done. "And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it." (Rev. 21.22) The Lamb Himself is the temple, yet I am the temple. (I Cor. 3.16) In order to be His temple, I have to be completely unified with the Lamb. If I am in union with the Lamb, and everything in his temple "doth... speak of his glory" (Psa. 29.9), I cannot be leprous and diseased! Any evidence to the contrary is a lie of the enemy.
There is plenty of evidence. Since first beginning to come to this stand, I have changed many things. I have stopped taking supplements and medications. I don't know that they are wrong; I just want to be very careful to wait on His direction. I have lightened up considerably in what we eat. I have dessert occasionally. I eat pizza with the boys. I no longer look at food as something that can heal or kill me. And to the natural eye, a progression of natural consequences has appeared. I have begun, ostensibly, to slip back into a lesser state of health. But I really can't be bothered with the apparent consequences, tough though some of them are to bear. I would rather step up to the microphone to sing at my brother-in-law's wedding covered in acne (and praise the Lord - gulp! - that my vanity is being crucified!) than risk settling for less than what He can give me.
"Whoa, there, Kit," I hear some of you say. "A little moderation, please." To which I say, "Let no man deceive himself. If any man among you seemeth to be wise in this world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise." (I Cor. 3. 18) I am ready to be a fool for Christ.
Like Abraham, I "consider not" my body. (Rom. 4.19) The Greek word means "to perceive thoroughly (with the mind)." No matter how thorough an examination I make with my mind, I can only "see through a glass darkly." (I Cor. 13.12) I just don't have the full picture. Neither did Abraham, and rather than trust to his own resources, he was willing to believe that the limitations of his body were not the end of the matter. He stood upon God's Word of promise, not on circumstantial evidence, and it was counted unto him for righteousness. (Rom. 4.20-22)
"But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings; and ye shall go forth, and grow up as calves of the stall." (Mal. 4.2) The prerequisite for healing is that I fear His name. It is also implied that I need to stay under the shadow of those wings. If I do that, I shall grow up as a calf of the stall, well cared for, and "neither shall any plague come nigh [my] dwelling" (Psa. 91.1,9-10)
How to accomplish that is the question. And that is where I must be true to the light that I see in the Word. I choose, as I said, to bank all on God. How this will play out in my life remains to be seen. But let this article stand as my signed covenant before Him that I consider all my needs as having been met in abundant richness at Calvary. I will stake my life - quite literally, the quality of my daily life - on the claim that Jesus is sufficient for my physical needs. I will cast myself upon Him and walk softly before Him, lest in any way I deceive myself into looking unto other resources.
"Let us fall now into the hand of the Lord; for his mercies are great." (II Sam. 24.14)
There is no question that I and the rest of my family made progress with our health concerns - slow progress at first, and then picking up to a cruising speed. Natural medicine has the mainstream medical world beat, hands down. It is a higher wisdom. For those who are willing to see it as simply a different kind of science, it has many amazing tools to offer. Not a single one is a magic bullet, but used together, they can get you quite far indeed along the road toward that elusive goal called "health."
But somewhere along the line, I began to look at things a little differently. I said I was wise in natural lore. Prov. 3.7 tells me to "be not wise in thine own eyes." Those of us who have been disillusioned by allopathy see how readily and completely most of the Western world reveres the medical field beyond all logic. Through a long, eye-opening process, I began to see that I was in danger of making a God of naturopathy.
There are those who claim that God gave us brains, and He expects us to use them to avail ourselves of all the tools of health which He has also provided for us in nature. It sounds good. I certainly bought into the idea. But lately the Holy Spirit has been bringing to light Scriptures which cut right across that theory.
The last time I went to the iridologist, she told me I was perfectly healthy. From here, we were just "being picky." But I know with certainty that this unprecedented level of health came from finally beginning to let go of the idea of the kind of health I think I need to have and learning to just be a sheep under the Shepherd's care. The doctor herself admitted that there was nothing in anything she had suggested or I had done that could account for such a dramatic change. Healing had taken place in the only way true healing can: from the inside out, from the spirit to the body.
I can thoroughly identify with the woman in Luke 8.43-4 who spent her life's savings on doctors. I had tried every resource, when what I really needed - what anyone needs - is to lay hold of the One with power to heal. The more I go on with Him and in His Word, the more reaching for answers anywhere else seems preposterous. Before, I ran around to every intelligent source I could find, incorporated their wisdom into my arsenal, and asked the Lord to bless this tool to my use. I was willing to expend most of my energy just to maintain a good, but not perfect, state of health. Now...
Now, I find myself unable to settle for anything that is less than what He, the Master Healer, the Great Physician, can give me. And to obtain that, I must leave all other answers, all halfway and three-quarter measures, behind me. "Who is among you that feareth the Lord," Isaiah asks, "that obeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light?" What is your darkness? Is it poor health? Depression? Your job or your marriage disintegrating around you? Where are you in the dark and so desperate for light that you will do anything? God gives us our answer in this passage: "let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God." Then He warns us of the consequences of trying in desperation to create a little light for ourselves, rather than waiting in the dark for Him. "Behold, all ye that kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks: walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand: ye shall lie down in sorrow." (Isa. 50.10-11)
I can no longer glibly view all these "tools" as gifts from the Lord for my use. They are starting to look dangerously like answers held up as a distraction from the One Answer that I need. "God hath made man upright: but they have sought out many inventions." (Ecc. 7.29) Man has become adept at seeking out inventions that will allow him to stand self-sufficient and apart from the One who created Him for a mutually fulfilling relationship with Himself.
By now my readers may have consigned me to the farm as a fanaticist or worse. "Oh," they say, "I see, so she's gone over to the _____ camp." You fill in the blank; there are many fanatical groups you could choose from. You will undoubtedly see me as someone who has backed herself into a corner by a misguidedly narrow interpretation of Scripture. I don't care. I am not writing this to bring converting light to others' errors, nor am I just parroting what many another has had to say on the subject of faith-healing. I am expressing, because I need to do so, what the Holy Spirit is saying to me through the Scriptures.
I don't know what exactly this means for me. I don't know if I will ever take another vitamin or herbal cleanse. I don't know if I will go to the chiropractor or not. I only know that I choose to bank all on God's Word and refuse to acknowledge by word or deed any answer that springs from another source. I am not binding myself to a new set of principles. I am not after a creed, I am after God Himself.
It is said of Moses, whom God "knew face to face" (Deut. 34.10), that when he died at 120 years old, "his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated." (v. 7) Caleb points out to Joshua that he is as strong to take Canaan at age 85 as he was 45 years prior, when Moses first sent him to spy out the land. (Josh. 14.7-11) These two men are the only ones from that first generation of Israelites (if we take Joshua to be a half generation younger) to have served the Lord with all their hearts and with strong faith. That their physical bodies were so beautifully sustained seems to me not so much a miraculous aberration, but the natural outworkings of a heart so in tune with the Lord's presence in their lives. "...fear the Lord, and depart from evil. It shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones." (Prov. 3.7-8)
"Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?" (I Cor. 3.16) It is His temple, His body. Can I suppose He will leave it to my paltry wisdom to care for? "Take no thought for your life... Consider the ravens... and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?" (Luke 12.22,24) "Do not ye yet understand, that whatsoever enetereth in at the mouth goeth into the belly, and is cast out into the draught? But those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart; and they defile the man." (Mat. 15:17-18) Here Jesus makes it clear than I can leave what I eat, and the processing of it, to Him. My body is His temple, and I do not intend to fill it with nitrites; but if I must eat the nitrites, they cannot defile my body. It is the "many inventions" of my heart I need to beware.
That Jesus can heal is never in question. That He is always moved to compassion to heal everyone with faith to receive it I no longer doubt. "I will; be thou clean." (Mark 1.41) "Thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace." (Luke 8.48) What is of far greater importance is that He expects me to let Him heal me, fill me, be my all-in-all. "And hath put all things under his feet, and gave him to be the head over all things to the church, Which is his body, the fulness of him that filleth all in all." (Eph. 1.22-23)
"Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?... Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thy health shall spring forth speedily..." (Isa. 58.6-8) Can I, through any resource of my own, myself loose the bands of wickedness, or let the oppressed go free, etc.? Of course not. But it has been done for me! All that remains for me to do is identify myself with the work that has been done. "And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it." (Rev. 21.22) The Lamb Himself is the temple, yet I am the temple. (I Cor. 3.16) In order to be His temple, I have to be completely unified with the Lamb. If I am in union with the Lamb, and everything in his temple "doth... speak of his glory" (Psa. 29.9), I cannot be leprous and diseased! Any evidence to the contrary is a lie of the enemy.
There is plenty of evidence. Since first beginning to come to this stand, I have changed many things. I have stopped taking supplements and medications. I don't know that they are wrong; I just want to be very careful to wait on His direction. I have lightened up considerably in what we eat. I have dessert occasionally. I eat pizza with the boys. I no longer look at food as something that can heal or kill me. And to the natural eye, a progression of natural consequences has appeared. I have begun, ostensibly, to slip back into a lesser state of health. But I really can't be bothered with the apparent consequences, tough though some of them are to bear. I would rather step up to the microphone to sing at my brother-in-law's wedding covered in acne (and praise the Lord - gulp! - that my vanity is being crucified!) than risk settling for less than what He can give me.
"Whoa, there, Kit," I hear some of you say. "A little moderation, please." To which I say, "Let no man deceive himself. If any man among you seemeth to be wise in this world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise." (I Cor. 3. 18) I am ready to be a fool for Christ.
Like Abraham, I "consider not" my body. (Rom. 4.19) The Greek word means "to perceive thoroughly (with the mind)." No matter how thorough an examination I make with my mind, I can only "see through a glass darkly." (I Cor. 13.12) I just don't have the full picture. Neither did Abraham, and rather than trust to his own resources, he was willing to believe that the limitations of his body were not the end of the matter. He stood upon God's Word of promise, not on circumstantial evidence, and it was counted unto him for righteousness. (Rom. 4.20-22)
"But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings; and ye shall go forth, and grow up as calves of the stall." (Mal. 4.2) The prerequisite for healing is that I fear His name. It is also implied that I need to stay under the shadow of those wings. If I do that, I shall grow up as a calf of the stall, well cared for, and "neither shall any plague come nigh [my] dwelling" (Psa. 91.1,9-10)
How to accomplish that is the question. And that is where I must be true to the light that I see in the Word. I choose, as I said, to bank all on God. How this will play out in my life remains to be seen. But let this article stand as my signed covenant before Him that I consider all my needs as having been met in abundant richness at Calvary. I will stake my life - quite literally, the quality of my daily life - on the claim that Jesus is sufficient for my physical needs. I will cast myself upon Him and walk softly before Him, lest in any way I deceive myself into looking unto other resources.
"Let us fall now into the hand of the Lord; for his mercies are great." (II Sam. 24.14)
Psalm 26
Judge me, O Lord; for I have walked in mine integrity: I have trusted also in the Lord; therefore I shall not slide. Examine me, O Lord, and prove me; try my reins and my heart. For thy lovingkindness is before mine eyes: and I have walked in thy truth. I have not sat with vain persons, neither will I go in with dissemblers. I have hated the congregation of evil doers; and will not sit with the wicked. I will wash mine hands in innocency: so will I compass thine altar, O Lord: That I may publish with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of all they wondrous works. Lord, I have loved the habitation of thy house, and the place where thine honour dwelleth. Gather not my soul with sinners, nor my life with bloody men; In whose hands is mischief, and their right hand is full of bribes. But as for me, I will walk in mine integrity: redeem me, and be merciful unto me. My foot standeth in an even place: in the congregations will I bless the Lord.
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