The Mother of the Lord

Author:
Elisabeth Elliot
Source: Keep A Quiet Heart
Scripture: Colossians
3:3

The Mother of the
Lord

We see her first, that little Mary (may I say little? I think she was a
teenager), as a simple village girl in a poor home in an out-of-the-way place.
She is bending over her work when suddenly the light changes. She raises her
eyes. A dazzling stranger stands before her with a puzzling greeting. He calls
her "most favored one" and tells her the Lord is with her. She is stunned. I
don't believe her thought is of herself (Who am I? or Am I ever lucky!). Mary is
troubled. She discerns at once that this has to do with things infinitely larger
than herself, far beyond her understanding. What can it mean?

The angel does not weigh in immediately with the stupendous message he has
been sent to deliver. He first comforts her. "Don't be afraid, Mary." Mary. She
is not a stranger to him. He is assuring her that he has the right person. He
explains what she has been chosen for--to be the mother of the Son of the Most
High, a king whose reign will be forever. She has one question now--not about
the Most High, not about an eternal king--those are things too high for her--but
motherhood is another matter. She understands motherhood, has been looking
forward to it with great happiness. Her question is about that: "How can this
be? I am still a virgin." He does not really explain. He simply states a
mystery: "The power of the Most High will overshadow you." He goes on to tell
her of another miraculous pregnancy, that of her old cousin Elisabeth, well past
child-bearing age. "God's promises can never fail," he says. They won't fail for
you, Mary. Rest assured.

How will the girl respond? She is at once totally at the disposal of her Lord
(she sees that the visitor is from Him). Whatever the mystery, whatever the
divine reasons for choosing her, whatever the inconveniences, even disasters
(broken engagement? stoning to death--the punishment of a fornicator?) which she
may be required to face, her answer is unequivocal and instant: "Here I am. I am
the Lord's servant; let it be as you have told me." Anything, Lord.

We see her next with Elisabeth, who, by the manner of Mary's greeting and by
her own baby's sudden movement in her womb, knows immediately that God has
chosen Mary to be the mother of the Lord. They don't sit down over coffee and
chatter about the gynecology or the practical logistics or what people are going
to say. Mary sings her song of gladness, of thoroughgoing acceptance of the
gift, of trust in the Mighty One.

We see her sweating in the cold of the stable, putting her own life on the
line, as every mother must do, in order to give life to somebody else. We see
her with the tough shepherds, breathlessly telling their story of the glory of
the Lord and the singing of the angel choir. Everyone else is astonished (a word
which comes from "thunderstruck"), but Mary does not join the excited babble.
She is quiet, treasuring all these things, pondering them deep in her heart. We
see her with the mysterious travelers from the East bringing their lavish gifts.
She says nothing as they kneel before the baby she holds in her arms. We see her
on the donkey again, on the roundabout journey to Egypt because her husband has
been given a secret message in a dream. She does not balk, she does not argue.

We see her in the temple handing over her baby to old Simeon, to whom the
Holy Spirit has revealed the child's amazing destiny: a revelation to the
heathen, glory to Israel. But to Mary he gives the far deeper message of
suffering, for there is no glory that is not bought by suffering: her son will
suffer--he will be a sign which men reject; she, his mother, will suffer, will
be pierced to the heart. No question or answer from her is recorded. Again we
know only her silence.

We see nothing of her for twelve years--days and nights, weeks and months,
years and years of caring for the infant, the toddler, the little boy, the
adolescent. There is no mention of any of that. Mary has no witness, no
limelight, no special recognition of any kind. She is not Mother of the Year.
Hers is a life lived in the ordinary necessity of their poverty and their
humanity, no one paying attention to her attention to Him. Whatever the level of
her comprehension as to the nature of this boy, she knows He was given to her.
She remembers how. She treasures all this. She ponders things in the silence of
her heart. Did she share any of them with Joseph? Could she? Could he receive
them? We know next to nothing of the dynamics between them. She was content to
be silent before God.

The apostle Paul tells us we are "hidden with Christ in God" (Colossians 3:3,
NIV}. There is mystery there, but when I think of the life of Mary, I see some
facets of that mystery that I missed when I read the apostle. Hers was a hidden
life, a faithful one, a holy one--holy in the context of a humble home in a
small village where there was not very much diversion. She knew that the
ordinary duties were ordained for her as much as the extraordinary way in which
they became her assignment. She struck no poses. She was the mother of a baby,
willing to be known simply as his mother for the rest of her life. He was an
extraordinary baby, the Eternal Word, but His needs were very ordinary, very
daily, to his mother. Did she imagine that she deserved to be the chosen mother?
Did she see herself as fully qualified? Surely not. Surely not more than any
other woman who finds herself endowed with the awesome gift of a child. It is
the most humbling experience of a woman's life, the most revealing of her own
helplessness. Yet we know this mother, Mary, the humble virgin from Nazareth, as
"Most Highly Exalted."

I am thanking God that unto us a Child was born. I am thanking Him also that
there was a pure-hearted woman prepared to receive that Child with all that
motherhood would mean of daily trust, daily dependence, daily obedience. I thank
Him for her silence. That spirit is not in me at all, not naturally. I want to
learn what she had learned so early: the deep guarding in her heart of each
event, mulling over its meaning from God, waiting in silence for His word to
her.

I want to learn, too, that it is not an extraordinary spirituality that makes
one refuse to do ordinary work, but a wish to prove that one is not
ordinary--which is a dead giveaway of spiritual conceit. I want to respond in
unhesitating obedience as she did: Anything You say, Lord.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.

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Discerning the Call of God

Author: Elisabeth Elliot
Source: Keep A Quiet Heart
Scripture: Genesis 45:8 Psalm 143:8 Genesis 50:20

Discerning the Call of God

As a little girl I especially loved the story of God's call to the child Samuel as he lay sleeping in the temple. I wondered if God would ever call me. Would I hear Him? What would He say? Throughout my growing years I read missionary stories and heard them told at our dinner table by guests from many lands who came to stay with us. I was always eager to know just how they were called. As a college student I worried much about whether I would fail to follow the Shepherd, would be deaf to His call. I thought it such a bewildering matter.

It is not a worry anymore. Experience has taught me that the Shepherd is far more willing to show His sheep the path than the sheep are to follow. He is endlessly merciful, patient, tender, and loving. If we, His stupid and wayward sheep, really want to be led, we will without fail be led. Of that I am sure.

When we need help, we wish we knew somebody who is wise enough to tell us what to do, reachable when we need him, and even able to help us. God is. Omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent--everything we need. The issue is confidence in the Shepherd Himself, a confidence so complete that we offer ourselves without any reservation whatsoever and determine to do what He says.

What He says? But how shall I know that?

He calls us every day, "o'er the tumult of our life's wild, restless sea." He comes to us in the little things, in the ordinary duties which our place in life entails. When I was a child He called me. The duty which my place in life entailed was obedience to my father and mother. In school and Sunday School He called me through the teacher. What she said I knew I was supposed to do. In first grade (yes, in public school) we sang the hymn, "Father, We Thank Thee." The second stanza says, "Help us to do the things we should, to be to others kind and good, in all we do at work or play to grow more loving every day." God's call again.

It's alluring to think of our own situation as very complex and ourselves as deep and complicated, so that we waste a good deal of time puzzling over "the will of God." Frequently our conscience has the answer.

My friend Jim O'Donnell tells how he, a hard-headed, hard-hearted man of the world, found Christ. His conscience was awakened. The call of God was immediate: "Go home and love your wife." The change was so sudden and so radical, Lizzie could not make head or tail of what had come over him. This self-confident and self-interested man had quit living for himself. He had died. An altogether new kind of life was now his. The first difference it made was the difference that mattered most--in his private life. It was there that he began to obey.

We are not talking here about audible voices. Although people in Bible times often heard God speak, we can expect that He will usually speak today through conscience, through the written Word, through other people, and through events. Events themselves, the seemingly insignificant happenings of every day, reveal the will of God. They are the will of God for us, for while we live, move, and have our being here on earth, in this place, this family, this house, this job, we live, move, and have our being in God. He "pulls strings through circumstances," as Jim Elliot said, even the bad circumstances (see Genesis 45:8, 50:20).

Three questions may help to clarify the call of God. Have I made up my mind to do what He says, no matter what the cost? Am I faithfully reading His Word and praying? Am I obedient in what I know today of His will?

"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul" (Psalm 143:8, NIV).

Stillness

Author: Elisabeth Elliot
Source: Keep A Quiet Heart
Scripture: Lamentations 3:26 Isaiah 30:15 Job 34:29 Psalm 46:10

Stillness

Full moon on a silver sea, throwing into sharp relief the luminous rocks. I sat in the antique rocking chair by the window, a cup of hot Postum in my hand, fascinated by the undulation of great swaths of foam on the ocean, almost fluorescent in the moonlight.

Stillness. Perfect stillness. It is a very great gift, not always available to those who would most appreciate it and would find joy in it, and often not appreciated by those who have it but are uncomfortable with it. External noise is inescapable in many places--traffic on land and in the air, sirens, horns, chain saws, loud voices and, perhaps worst of all, screaming rock music with thundering amplification which makes the very ground shudder.

I think it is possible to learn stillness--but only if it is seriously sought. God tells us, "Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10, NIV). "In quietness and confidence shall be your strength" (Isaiah 30:15, KJV).

The stillness in which we find God is not superficial, a mere absence of fidgeting or talking. It is a deliberate and quiet attentiveness--receptive, alert, ready. I think of what Jim Elliot wrote in his Journal: "Wherever you are, be all there. Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God."

This is not so difficult, perhaps, for a sports fan, eyes riveted on the game. For me, however, this quietness in the presence of God, this being "all there" for Him, though I treasure it and long for it, is not easy to maintain, even in the beautiful place where I live. I am easily distracted, more so, it seems, as soon as I try to focus on God Himself and nothing else. Why should this be? I think C.S. Lewis puts his finger right on it in The Screwtape Letters, which purports to be the correspondence between Screwtape, under-secretary to the devil, and his nephew, Wormwood, instructing him in the best ways to tempt the followers of the Enemy, God:

"My dear Wormwood: Music and silence--how I detest them both! How thankful we should be that ever since our Father entered Hell--though longer ago than humans, reckoning in light years, could express, no square inch of infernal space and no moment of infernal time has been surrendered to either of those abominable forces, but all has been occupied by Noise--Noise, the grand dynamism, the audible expression of all that is exultant, ruthless, and virile--Noise which alone defends us from silly qualms, despairing scruples, and impossible desires. We will make the whole universe a noise in the end. We have already made great strides in this direction as regards the Earth. The melodies and silences of Heaven will be shouted down in the end. But I admit we are not yet loud enough, or anything like it. Research is in progress."

C.S. Lewis died in 1963. Research in noise-making has made considerable progress since then, don't you think? To learn stillness we must resist our ancient foe, whose craft and power are great, and who is armed with cruel hate. There is One far greater who is on our side. His voice brought stillness to fierce winds and wild waves, and He will surely help us if we put ourselves firmly and determinedly in His presence--"I'm here, Lord. I'm listening." If no word seems to be forthcoming, remember "it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord," and "when He gives quietness, who then can make trouble?" (Lamentations 3:26, NIV; Job 34:29, KJV).

Silence is one form of worship. When the seventh seal was opened (in St. John's Revelation), there was silence in heaven for the space of half an hour. What would happen in our homes if we should try to prepare ourselves for those heavenly silences by having just one half-hour when there is no door slamming, no TV, no stereo or video, and a minimum of talk, in quiet voices? Wouldn't it also be a calming thing just to practice the stillness which is the absence of motion? My father used to have us try this every now and then. Why not try a Quiet Day or even a Quiet Week without the usual noises? It might open vistas of the spiritual life hitherto closed, a depth of communion with the Lord impossible where there is nothing but noise. Does God seem absent? Yes, for most of us He sometimes does. Even at such a time may we not simply be still before Him, trusting that He reads the perplexity we cannot put into words?

Regrets

Author: Elisabeth Elliot
Source: Keep A Quiet Heart
Scripture: Philippians 3:13-14

Regrets

When my father was twelve years old he lost his left eye through disobedience. He had been forbidden to have firecrackers, but he sneaked out early in the morning of July 4, 1910, and, with the help of a neighboring farmer, set off some dynamite caps. A piece of copper penetrated his eye.

Four years later my grandfather wrote this letter to my grand-mother:

Dearest:

I am not one bit surprised that after all our experiences of the past four years you should suffer from sad memories, but I really do not believe for a moment that you should feel you have any occasion to let remorse bite into your life on account of Philip's accident. Surely we cannot guard against all the contingencies of this complex life, and no one who has poured out life as you have for each one of your children should let such regrets take hold.

None of us could be alive to the pressing needs of today if we should carry along with us the dark heaviness of any past, whether real or imagined. I know, dearest, that your Lord cannot wish anything of that sort for you, and I believe your steady, shining, and triumphant faith will lead you out through Him, into the richest experiences you have ever had. I believe that firmly.

I have had to turn to Him in helplessness today to overcome depression because of my failures. My Sunday School fiasco at Swarthmore bears down pretty hard. But that is not right. I must look ahead, and up, as you often tell me, and I will. I know how sickening remorse is, if anyone knows; yet I also know, as you do, the lift and relief of turning the whole matter over to Him. We must have more prayers and more study together, dearest. I haven't followed the impulses I have so often had in this.

Lovingly, your own Phil.

My grandfather was the most cheerful and serene man I knew in my childhood. It is hard for me to imagine his having had any cause for remorse or temptation to depression. This letter, which bears a two-cent stamp and a Philadelphia postmark, was sent to Grandma in Franconia, New Hampshire, where they had a lovely vacation house. I spent my childhood summers in that house. I can picture her sitting on the porch, perhaps on the anniversary of her son's accident, looking out toward Mounts Lafayette, Bald, and Cannon, wrestling with the terrible thoughts of her own carelessness and failure. I thank God for my heritage. I thank Him for the word of His faithful servant Paul: "I concentrate on this: I leave the past behind and with hands outstretched to whatever lies ahead, I go straight for the goal--my reward the honor of being called by God in Christ" (Philippians 3:13, 14, PHILLIPS).

My Life for Yours

Author: Elisabeth Elliot
Source: Keep A Quiet Heart

My Life for Yours

About ten years ago, a young Canadian woman sat in the assembly hall at the University of Illinois in Urbana, along with seventeen thousand other students attending InterVarsity's missionary convention. She thrilled to the singing of the great hymns, led by Bernie Smith. She heard the peakers. "I remember the incredible excitement and desire to know and serve God that I experienced at that time. Now I have walked through some deep waters, and I feel compelled to write to you," her letter to me said. She had read two of my books just before the convention, and I happened to have been among the speakers. Another was Helen Roseveare, author of Give Me This Mountain and other books. At the time, Barbara was especially moved by the thought of the cost of declaring God's glory. Her letter told me this story:

Three years after Urbana she married Gerry Fuller, "a wonderful man who demonstrated zeal for Christ, a passion for souls, a beautiful compassion for hurting, broken people who needed to know the healing love of Jesus Christ." Following seminary and student pastorates, he became a prison chaplain and an inner-city missionary. Then he married Barbara and together they worked in Saint John, New Brunswick, with street kids, ex-convicts, and glue-sniffers.

The time came when Barbara saw Gerry seeking the Lord with such great intensity it made her question her own commitment to Christ. Was she prepared to die to self as he was? What was it that drove him to pray as he did--at least once until four in the morning? Was her own love for the Lord as deep as his, or was it perhaps shadowed by her love for her husband?

Gerry had a nephew named Gary, "a quiet guy with an artistic nature and talents that had been squelched as a child, leaving him very insecure, undisciplined." He couldn't hold down a job, got in trouble with the law. When relatives consented to his using their vacation cottage, a neighboring cottage was broken into. The owner called Gerry to say that his gun had been taken; Gary was the prime suspect, but they didn't want to call the police until they'd called Gerry.

Gerry was "scared stiff," but knew what he had to do the next day; put his whole trust in God, go to the cottage, try to persuade his nephew to turn himself in. He and Barbara went to bed.

Next morning when they prayed together he asked the Holy Spirit especially to strengthen Barbara in raising little Josh and Ben. Should she go with him to see Gary? She was relieved that his answer was no--"If anything happens to him, the children will need me," was the thought that flashed into her mind.

Gerry said goodbye. Barbara fasted, prayed, cared for the little boys, worked in the garden, waited. All day she waited. He did not come. Oh well, Gerry was always late for everything. No doubt they were deep in conversation. He had tried so often to help Gary. Lord, may He help him now.

At last the sound of a car. Eagerly Barbara looked up from her weeding. It was the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. She froze, then fell to the ground sobbing. Gerry was dead. But looking up at the bewildered faces of her sons, four and two years old, she pulled herself together, took their little hands, and told them Daddy was with Jesus and they wouldn't see him again for a long time. "From that point on there was the sense of being carried through the whole dream-like event. God surrounded me with His presence and an overwhelming sense that 'It's all right.' I knew He was in charge."

The murder was a deliberate act. Gary is serving a life sentence in a penitentiary with some who were led to Christ through Gerry's witness. They loved Gerry, but for love of his Lord they have forgiven his killer. A number of lives have been changed as a result of his testimony, but "in spite of the good things that came of his death there is always the WHY," Barbara writes. "As you say, we must let God be God. It's hard to explain, though, to a tired three-year-old when he wails, 'I miss Daddy!'

"One of my greatest blessings and comforts came as a surprise about six weeks after my husband's death when I discovered that I was pregnant with a baby conceived the eve of his homegoing. And how like the Lord and His perfect timing to present me with a beautiful child on Easter Sunday--the girl I had prayed for. Her name is Marah Grace and it is by God's grace that she has made my bitter wafers sweet.

"People say I am brave, but I don't see any great bravery in walking through one of the difficult experiences of life. God is the One who strengthens us at the time for the things we must face. My greatest fear was the fear of losing Gerry, but when the time came God swooped under me as a great bird and carried me on eagle's wings above the storm.

"So that is my story. I wanted to share it with you--I feel somewhat akin to you. My husband went in obedience to God, well aware of the danger, and laid down his life for Christ's sake. My task is to follow that example and to instill in my children the values Gerry and I shared: the supreme value of knowing Jesus Christ and serving Him with our whole selves."

Thank you, dear Barbara, for being one more faithful witness to a wholly faithful and sovereign Lord. Like Jim Elliot, Gerry knew that "he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." He would have understood the motto of the Coast.

Interruptions, Delays, Inconveniences

Author: Elisabeth Elliot
Source: Keep A Quiet Heart

Interruptions, Delays, Inconveniences

Emily, wife of America's first foreign missionary, Adoniram Judson, wrote home from Moulmein, Burma, in January 1847:

"This taking care of teething babies, and teaching natives to darn stockings and talking English back end foremost . . . in order to get an eatable dinner, is really a very odd sort of business for Fanny Forester [her pen name--she was a well-known New England writer before marrying Judson].... But I begin to get reconciled to my minute cares." She was ambitious for "higher and better things," but was enabled to learn that "the person who would do great things well must practice daily on little ones; and she who would have the assistance of the Almighty in important acts, must be daily and hourly accustomed to consult His will in the minor affairs of life."

About eighty years ago, when James 0. Fraser was working as a solitary missionary in Tengyueh, southwest China, his situation was, "in every sense, 'against the grain.'" He did not enjoy housekeeping and looking after premises. He found the houseboy irritable and touchy, constantly quarreling with the cook. Endless small items of business cluttered up the time he wanted for language study, and he was having to learn to be "perpetually inconvenienced" for the sake of the gospel. He wrote after some weeks alone:

"I am finding out that it is a mistake to plan to get through a certain amount of work in a certain time. It ends in disappointment, besides not being the right way to go about it, in my judgment. It makes one impatient of interruptions and delay. Just as you are nearly finishing--somebody comes along to sit with you and have a chat! You might hardly think it possible to be impatient and put out where there is such an opportunity for presenting the Gospel--but it is. It may be just on mealtime, or you are writing a letter to catch the mail, or you were just going out for needed exercise before tea. But the visitor has to be welcomed, and I think it is well to cultivate an attitude of mind which will enable one to welcome him from the heart and at any time. 'No admittance except on business' scarcely shows a true missionary spirit."

There is nothing like the biographies of great Christians to give us perspective and help us to keep spiritual balance. These two are well worth reading. It was J.O. Fraser who so inspired my husband Jim Elliot with missionary vision that Jim planned to name his first son after him.

One more quotation--this from an out-of-print book, The Life and Letters of Janet Erskine Stuart. Says one who was her assistant for some years, "She delighted in seeing her plan upset by unexpected events, saying that it gave her great comfort, and that she looked on such things as an assurance that God was watching over her stewardship, was securing the accomplishment of His will, and working out His own designs. Whether she traced the secondary causes to the prayer of a child, to the imperfection of an individual, to obstacles arising from misunderstandings, or to interference of outside agencies, she was joyfully and graciously ready to recognize the indication of God's ruling hand, and to allow herself to be guided by it."

Common Courtesy

Author: Elisabeth Elliot
Source: Keep A Quiet Heart

Common Courtesy

Talking with a group of seminary students I mentioned that the common rules of courtesy are often overlooked nowadays, especially by those who grew up in the past two decades, an era in which all conventions and traditions were suspect. "Mere convention" came to mean "pure hypocrisy." If a thing was labeled "traditional", it had to be discarded as no longer "relevant," "meaningful," or even intelligent. If a man had the temerity to hold a door open for a woman, he was sometimes labeled "sexist." My point in bringing up the subject of courtesy was simply that it is a small way of demonstrating that deep principle, central to our Christian faith, of "my life for yours." I asked if any of the husbands in the room made a habit of helping their wives into their chairs at the table, even when company was not present. A week later one of the men stopped me in the seminary hall.

"I just want to tell you that my behavior toward my wife has been altered since last week's lecture. And you know what! It's changed my attitude toward her as well as hers toward me. It's really been revelatory! Just wanted to say thanks."

I was immensely cheered. It's always cheering to know somebody has had ears to hear, and has actually done something about what he's heard.

Lost and Found

Author: Elisabeth Elliot Source: Keep A Quiet Heart Lost and Found Here is a little story about a simple answer to prayer. Lars was away. I had to take the car to the repairman's house. Li Zeng, our live-in student, followed me in his car to bring me home. Directions to the house had been ambiguous, and Gloucester, Massachusetts gets the prize for town-easiest-to-get-lost-in. I prayed that I might not get lost--Li had to get to class, the repairman had to leave at 7:15. I got lost, made a quick turn without checking to see that Li was still with me. He wasn't. "Lord, Li will be late for class, the man will leave in a few minutes--what shall I do?" It's a long story, but after a phone call I found the house, left the car, declined the man's kind offer to take me home because I wanted to find Li so he would not miss his class. How was I to find him? "Lord, help me." I stood at an intersection and prayed that he would come along--an absurd request in a place like Gloucester. He'd been on a one-way street which would take him far out around the shore drive, with no reason to happen upon the intersection where I stood. Within five minutes there he was! God teaches us to ask so that He may answer our prayers. This reminds us of the source of our blessings. The answer to my prayer not to get lost was No--in order that I might be specially blessed in the way I was found. Remember how the Lord brought Israel out (of Egypt) in order to bring them in (to Canaan)? He got me lost that He might get me found! Let's never forget that some of His greatest mercies are His refusals. He says no in order that He may, in some way we cannot imagine, say yes. All His ways with us are merciful. His meaning is always love. After I had written the above, I received the following much more astonishing story from Brenda Foltz of Princeton, Minnesota. She went rock-climbing for the first time: "I started up the rock as fast as I could, determined to 'set my face like a flint' toward the peak. After a time, I came to a difficult ledge, and my breathless scrambling came to an abrupt halt. Suddenly, the rope was pulled too taut and hit me square in the eye. 'Oh NO!' I thought wildly, 'my contact lens is GONE!' From my precarious perch I looked everywhere on the rope and sharp granite rock for a tiny, transparent lens, which could easily be mistaken for a water droplet. "'Lord Jesus, help me find it!' I prayed and pleaded, knowing the hopelessness of my search with such limited mobility. I looked as long as I could maintain my hold, praying with a sinking heart. Finally I resumed my climb with one last glimmer of hope--maybe the contact was still in my eye, crumpled in the corner or up under my eyelid. When I reached the top, I had a friend check to see if she could find it in my eye. It wasn't there. Every hope was gone. "I was disappointed, and anxious about getting a new contact so far away from home. As we sat and rested, surveying the world from such a gloriously high perspective, the fragment of a verse popped into my head: 'The eyes of God go to and fro through the whole earth.' "God knows exactly where my contact is this moment from His high vantage point, the amazing thought struck me. But I'll never see it again, I concluded. "So, still glum, I headed down the path to the bottom where the others were preparing to climb. About half an hour later another girl set out where I had also begun my climb. She had no inkling of the missing contact. But there, at the steep bottom of the rock face, she let out an excited cry: 'Hey you guys--did anyone lose a contact?' "I rushed over as she continued yelling, 'There's an ANT carrying a contact down the mountain!' "Sure enough. Special delivery! I bent down, retrieved my contact from the hardworking ant, doused it with water and put it back in my eye, rejoicing. I was in awe, as if my Father had just given me, though so undeserving, a big hug, and said, 'My precious daughter, I care about every detail of your life.' "I wrote to tell my family. My dad drew a cartoon portraying an ant, lugging a big contact five times its size. The ant was saying to God, 'Lord, I don't understand why You want me to drag this thing down! What use is it anyway? I don't even know what it is, and I certainly can't eat it and it's so BIG and HEAVY. Oh well, if you say so, Lord, I'll try, but it seems like a useless piece of junk to me!' "I marvel at God's ways and how He chooses to reveal His mercy in ways far beyond our human comprehension."

An Old Prayer

Author: Elisabeth Elliot Source: Keep A Quiet Heart Scripture: An Old Prayer Christians in the Orthodox Church use a prayer called the Jesus Prayer. Sometimes they pray it in the rhythm of breathing, learning in this way almost to "pray without ceasing." The words are simple, but they cover everything we need to ask for ourselves and others: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us." The Lord did not say we should not use repetition. He said we should not use vain repetition. A prayer prayed from the heart of the child to the Father is never vain. The Very Reverend Kenneth R. Waldron, a priest of both the Ukrainian Orthodox Church and of the Anglican Church, wrote to me of his having had surgery. "The last moment of consciousness before the anaesthetic took over, I heard my surgeon repeating in a whisper GOSPODI POMILUY, GOSPODI POMILUY, GOSPODI POMILUY [Dr. Waldron put the Russian words into phonetic spelling]--Lord, have mercy on us.... It is wonderful to drift off into unconsciousness hearing these words on the lips of the man whose hands you trust to bring you out of your troubles. It is great to have a surgeon who knows how to pray at such a time. Think of the comfort and help that this simple prayer has brought to thousands through the years, a prayer that was a big help to me in January 1982. Some of my hospital friends thought they would not see me alive again, but the good Lord had a bit more work for this old priest to do." The Jesus Prayer was one my husband Add and I often used together when he was dying of cancer, when we seemed to have "used up" all the other prayers. I recommend it to you.

The Universal Thump

Author: Elisabeth Elliot Source: Keep A Quiet Heart Scripture: Colossians 3:23-24 Galatians 5:13 The Universal Thump It's so refreshing to find some encouragement to work and to be cheerful and take orders, instead of what is more common today, an outright dislike, even hatred, of work and an unwillingness to take orders from anybody. We've really had just about enough of that, don't you think? So here's an antidote in the musings of a sailor in Herman Melville's great classic, MOBY DICK: "What of it if some old hunk of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weigh, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunk in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way--either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content." Most of us are not exactly under the orders of "some old hunk of a sea-captain," but we are meant to be willing and cheerful servants of anybody who happens to need us. Have I a true servant-heart? I should have. I will not be anything like my Lord Jesus if I haven't, for He came not to be served but to serve. He set for us a radiant example of how practically He meant it. He washed feet. Knowing His own origin and destiny, He did it with grace and He did it with love. And what is our origin? Our destiny? We, too, "come from God and are going back to God." Is there any job, then, that is really "beneath us?" Any "thump" that we really mind? "You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature; rather, serve one another in love" (Galatians 5:13, NIV). Last summer a certain fifteen-year-old worked at a ranch, where his job included not only dishwashing but cleaning out the garbage truck. They weren't jobs he'd have opted for (he'd far rather have exercised horses or even mucked out stables), so I gave him "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving" (Colossians 3:23-24, NIV). He wrote me a sweet letter, said God was helping him.

Spiritual Opposition

When Lars and I returned from a fortnight in Scotland and England there was the expected pile-up of work awaiting us, and the usual temptation to feel overwhelmed by it. The suitcase had to be unpacked, clothes washed, mail opened, read, and answered. The house had been partially cleaned by the student who lives with us, but upstairs I had to deal with the dust. There were phone messages waiting, and phone calls we needed to make to family members. Do you know the feeling of utter inadequacy to cope? I'm sure you do. But I believe the enemy of our souls is specially alert at such times, seeking to use them to turn us in on ourselves rather than upwards to the One who stands ready to be our Refuge and Helper.

Laying all the work before the Lord on the first morning after our return, I asked for His help to do it faithfully, carefully, and in an orderly way. I believe He answered that prayer--I'm sure He did. Everything that had to be done in those first three days was done, and I couldn't possibly have done it on my own. Then there was the lovely respite of Sunday, with time to read and think. I looked forward to tackling Monday's work (radio talks, scheduling of speaking) at a clean desk.

Monday came. The day was committed to God as always. But I felt like the wheels of the Egyptian chariots which "drave heavily." There were interruptions, distractions. I could not get on as expected. My mind was dull, confused. At the end of the day I could not see what I had done with my time.

Tuesday was a continuation of the day before. Where had those hours gone? I took my usual walk after lunch around Ocean Drive--a cloudless sky, a glittering sea. I walked alone, talking to God about my failures, asking Him to clarify things. When I got back home, such an unexpected source of help came to hand--a letter written to my father thirty years ago by an old missionary. Things were not going well at that time with the paper, THE SUNDAY SCHOOL TIMES, of which my father was editor, and he was on the verge of what was then called a nervous breakdown. He had asked counsel of this old veteran, E.L. Langston, in Africa.

"The devil does not like that paper nor its articles, and is evidently attacking you in your inmost heart, not causing you to doubt so much as causing a spirit of discontent. Fortunately we both know that temptation is not sin, it is yielding to temptation that causes us to sin and I feel that you must count it joy that you are passing through these times of difficulty, for they are sure signs that the Lord is blessing you....

"There is another reason, I think, for the cause of the feeling within us. It comes from the flesh and self-introspection. It is good for us to look at self and know how loathsome it is, but with one look at self we must take ten looks at Christ....

"No one goes to church more than the devil does, and no one appears as an angel of light as he does. We are in the thick of facing powers of darkness who are determined to rob us of Him and rob God of us, and you and I, my brother, have just got to hope in Christ and rely on Him for His Spirit to direct our thoughts, our ways, and our works so that it is not us but Christ in us."

Wasn't it wonderful that that letter had been preserved so that I "chanced upon it" in the hour of my need? But that is so like the Lord, for it is through the tender austerity of our very troubles that the Son of Man comes knocking. In every event He seeks an entrance to my heart, yes, even in my most helpless, futile, fruitless moments. The very cracks and empty crannies of my life, my perplexities and hurts and botched-up jobs, He wants to fill with Himself, His joy, His life. The more unsatisfactory my "performance," the more He calls me to share His yoke. I should know by now that mine makes me tired and overburdened. He urges me to learn of Him: "I am gentle and humble in heart."

What Do You Mean By Submission?

Scripture: 1 Chronicles 11:10

What Do You Mean By Submission?

People are always asking me this. What is this business of "submission" you're always talking about? We're not really very comfortable with this. Seems kinds of negative. Sounds as though women are not worth as much as men. Aren't women supposed to exercise their gifts? Can't they ever open their mouths?

I wouldn't be very comfortable with that kind of submission either. As a matter of fact, I'm not particularly comfortable with any kind, but since it was God's idea and not mine, I had better come to terms with what the Bible says about it and stop rejecting the whole thing just because it is so often misunderstood and wrongly defined. I came across a lucid example of what it means in 1 Chronicles 11:10, NEB: "Of David's heroes these were the chief, men who lent their full strength to his government and, with all Israel, joined in making him king." There it is. The recognition, first of all, of God-given authority. Recognizing it, accepting it, they then lent their full strength to it, and did everything in their power to make him--not them--king.

Christians--both men and women--recognize first the authority of Christ. They pray "Thy will be done." They set about making an honest effort to cooperate with what He is doing, straightening out the kinks in their own lives according to His wishes. A Christian woman, then, in submission to God, recognizes the divinely assigned authority of her husband (he didn't earn it, remember, he received it by appointment!. She then sets about lending her full strength to helping him do what he's supposed to do, be what he's supposed to be--her head. She's not always trying to get her own way. She's trying to make it easier for him to do his job. She seeks to contribute to his purpose, not to scheme how to accomplish her own.

If this sounds suspiciously like some worn-out traditionalist view, or (worse) like a typical Elisabeth Elliot opinion, test it with the straightedge of Scripture. What does submission to Christ mean? "Wives, submit yourself to your husbands, as to the Lord." Compare and connect.

God's Curriculum

Scripture: Psalm 119:23-32 Genesis 48:5

God's Curriculum

One day recently something lit a fuse of anger in someone who then burned me with hot words. I felt sure I didn't deserve this response, but when I ran to God about it, He reminded me of part of a prayer I'd been using lately: "Teach me to treat all that comes to me with peace of soul and with firm conviction that Your will governs all."

Where could that kind of peace come from? Only from God, who gives "not as the world gives."

His will that I should be burned? Here we must tread softly. His will governs all. In a wrong-filled world we suffer (and cause) many a wrong. God is there to heal and comfort and forgive. He who brought blessing to many out of the sin of the jealous brothers against Joseph means this hurt for my ultimate blessing and, I think, for an increase of love between me and the one who hurt me. Love is very patient, very kind. Love never seeks its own. Love looks to God for his grace to help.

"It was not you who sent me here but God," Joseph said to his brothers. "You meant to do me harm; but God meant to bring good out of it" (Genesis 45:8, 50:20, NEB).

There is a philosophy of secular education which holds that the student ought to be allowed to assemble his own curriculum according to his preferences. Few students have a strong basis for making these choices, not knowing how little they know. Ideas of what they need to learn are not only greatly limited but greatly distorted. What they need is help from those who know more than they do.

Mercifully, God does not leave us to choose our own curriculum. His wisdom is perfect, His knowledge embraces not only all worlds but the individual hearts and minds of each of His loved children. With intimate understanding of our deepest needs and individual capacities, He chooses our curriculum. We need only ask, "Give us this day our daily bread, our daily lessons, our homework." An angry retort from someone may be just the occasion we need in which to learn not only longsuffering and forgiveness, but meekness and gentleness; fruits not born in us but borne only by the Spirit. As Amy Carmichael wrote, "A cup brimful of sweetness cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, no matter how suddenly jarred" (From her book IF published by Christian Literature Crusade).

God's curriculum for all who sincerely want to know Him and do His will will always include lessons we wish we could skip. But the more we apply ourselves, the more honestly we can say what the psalmist said: "I, thy servant, will study thy statutes. / Thy instruction is my continual delight; / I turn to it for counsel. / I will run the course set out in thy commandments, / for they gladden my heart" (Psalm 119:23, 24, 32, NEB).

Lord of All Seasons

Scripture: 1 Peter 1:4 Hebrews 12:28

Lord of All Seasons

A few years ago I spoke to a group of women in Florida about Jesus Christ being "Lord of All Seasons." The topic was their choice, and I found myself, as usual, tested along the very lines on which I was going to speak. During the previous week, Lars and I had learned that all twenty-eight of the nice new (and very expensive) windows we had installed in our new house leaked. I was anxious about many things--my mother's health, my coming grandchild, a new word processor which I wasn't sure I was smart enough to learn to use, and (alas!) a tooth which seemed about to fall out. What a list of varied things to worry about.

But Jesus died for me! He's risen and coming again! He has given me an inheritance that nothing can "destroy or spoil or wither" (1 Peter 1:4, NEB) and a Kingdom which is unshakable (Hebrews 12:28). That's the gospel. Has it anything to do with leaking windows, computers, grandchildren, teeth? Well, I told myself, if it hasn't, you've got no business getting up in front of those women and opening your mouth at all. If I can't give thanks, trust, and worship the Lord in every "season," in the face of any set of facts which may touch my life, I am not really a believer. It is here, in my corner of God's earth, that I am assigned my lessons in the School of Faith.

P.S. Later: They fixed the windows for us, but then we found that all four of the outside doors needed to be fixed. God hadn't finished with us yet.

Don't Forfeit Your Peace

Don't Forfeit Your Peace

It would not be possible to exaggerate the importance hymns and spiritual songs have played in my spiritual growth. One of the latter, familiar to most of you, has this line: "O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear, all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer" (Joseph Scriven). Prayerlessness is one of many ways by which we can easily forfeit the peace God wants us to have. I've been thinking of some other ways. Here's a sampling:

1. Resent God's ways.
2. Worry as much as possible.
3. Pray only about things you can't manage by yourself.
4. Refuse to accept what God gives.
5. Look for peace elsewhere than in Him.
6. Try to rule your own life.
7. Doubt God's word.
8. Carry all your cares.

If you'd rather not forfeit your peace, here are eight ways to find it (antidotes to the above eight):

1. "Great peace have they which love thy law: and nothing shall offend them" (Psalm 119:165 KJV). "Circumstances are the expression of God's will," wrote Bishop Handley Moule.
2. "Don't worry about anything whatever" (Philippians 4:6, PHILLIPS).
3. "In everything make your requests known to God in prayer and petition with thanksgiving. Then the peace of God... will guard your hearts" (Philippians 4:6,7, NEB).
4. "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me... and you will find rest" (Matthew 11:29, NIV).
5. "Peace is my parting gift to you, my own peace, such as the world cannot give" (John 14 27, NEB).
6. "Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts" (Colossians 3:15, NIV).
7. "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing" (Romans 15:13, KJV).
8. "Cast all your cares on him for you are his charge" (1 Peter 5:7, NEB).

"Grant, O Lord my God, that I may never fall away in success or in failure; that I may not be prideful in prosperity nor dejected in adversity. Let me rejoice only in what unites us and sorrow only in what separates us. May I strive to please no one or fear to displease anyone except Yourself. May I seek always the things that are eternal and never those that are only temporal. May I shun any joy that is without You and never seek any that is beside You. O Lord, may I delight in any work I do for You and tire of any rest that is apart from You. My God, let me direct my heart towards You, and in my failings, always repent with a purpose of amendment."

--St. Thomas Aquinas

There Is No Other Way

Scripture: Deuteronomy 30:19-20 Deuteronomy 31:3-8

There Is No Other Way

In order to get to a place called Laity Lodge in Texas you have to drive into a riverbed. The road takes you down a steep, rocky hill into a canyon and straight into the water. There is a sign at the water's edge which says, "Yes. You drive in the river."

One who has made up his mind to go to the uttermost with God will come to a place as unexpected and perhaps looking as impossible to travel as that riverbed looks. He may glance around for an alternative route, but if he wants what God promises His faithful ones, he must go straight into the danger. There is no other way.

The written word is our direction. Trust it. Obey it. Drive in the river and get to Laity Lodge. Moses said to Israel, "I offer you the choice of life or death, blessing or curse. Choose life and then you and your descendants will live; love the Lord your God, obey him, and hold fast to him: that is life for you."

When you take the risk of obedience, you find solid rock beneath you--and markers, evidence that someone has traveled this route before. "The Lord your God will cross over at your head... he will be with you; he will not fail you or forsake you. Do not be discouraged or afraid" (Deuteronomy 30:19, 20; 31:3, 8, NEB). It's what the old gospel song puts so simply:

"Trust and obey, for there's no other way
To be happy in Jesus but to trust and obey.
--John H. Sammis