It’s been silent here for a while. Not for lack of activity in life, I promise, but perhaps from a struggle to translate activity into word. Which is okay sometimes. The past few weeks have had a range of thoughts, emotions, and prayers – some high highs and some low lows. Some moments of feeling very sure and some moments of feeling very lost. That’s life to some extent, although I don’t believe we’re to be blown to extremes by every wind of change or emotion, and I don’t often experience quite this much gusting in such a short period of time. But we sure do have those times when, as the disciples, we cry out in the midst of the raging storm that Jesus, sleeping in the bow, couldn’t possibly care, or why would he be allowing this? Only to feel quite foolish and small indeed when Jesus stands up, rebukes our faith, and creates instant peace from reigning chaos. Which of course He knew lay in wait all along.
Today I read a blog post from Desiring God, recommended by a friend, and had one of those moments where I felt very small indeed. Not small as a put-down and ridiculed child, but small in a comforting and thankful sense. Thankful that God is much, much larger than my storms and the tiny world that generates them. Thankful that there is no possible way that the truths of the Gospel are shaken at all. Ever. By anything. Thankful that I can whisper these truths to the raging in my soul and it will respond with peace and stillness, at least for a while, until I need to be reminded yet again.
And that’s what this post was all about – reminders. Ten, big, daily reminders to proclaim to ourselves, such as number 3:“Jesus died for you, and the Father has now bound himself to give you only good things. (Romans 8:28; Romans 8:32)
This draws me quickly to the central reality of all history: the cross. It is an objective truth set in time and space, so it immediately draws my gaze away from my own capacity to garner acceptance from God through my efforts. Furthermore, the outworkings of the cross make clear that even the harshest trials will come to me as blessing, for my ultimate good, no matter how bad I feel at the time.”
or numbers 8 and 9:“For now, you are an exile on the earth. (Hebrews 11:13-16)
This keeps me from feeling at home when I’m not at home (especially in my own home). It prepares me for not fitting in, for weird looks when I speak with conviction about Jesus, and for holding loosely to every bit of earthly life. Nothing on earth is truly worth putting your hope in. (Jeremiah 2:13; Galatians 6:14)
This is a practical specification of #8. It is right for me to remember that I will inevitably be disappointed by every earthly pursuit or relationship or emotional experience. It runs me back to my true Home and the true Bridegroom.”
(Read the full post here.)
These words were like familiar comfort flowing over my soul today. How quickly I forget, doubt, stumble, question, and fear. Read it – it’s worth it. I’m thankful to have been reminded once again.
Today I rejoice that we have this Hope as an anchor for our souls.