An Abyss and Mass of Mercies

Spiritual Lessons 

An Abyss and Mass of Mercies

I survey the occurrences of my life, and call into account the finger of God, I can perceive nothing but an abyss and mass of mercies, whether general or in mankind, or in particular to myself; I know not, but those which others term crosses, afflictions, judgements, misfortunes, to me who inquire further into them than their visible effects they both appear and in event have ever proved, the secret and dissembled favors of his affection."  Sir Thomas Browne, Riligio Medici 

I sat there looking at her as if she just declared my death sentence.  What was worse was she had stated it so matter of factly, and then expected me to accept it. 

For a year I've struggled with my health.  An uphill battle.  I had just told God -- I can't do this anymore, it's too hard.  And now this.  My doctor was saying that I needed to start back at square one; start over the diet.  Only eat meat and carrots.  So I hadn't been moving uphill, but actually in circles.  Desperate attempt at healing, only to unwind the bandage and find an oozing sore.  He purposefully allowed me to be sick.  He did not keep be from being wounded.  Okay, I could accept that.  A temporary hurt to learn a spiritual lesson.  But now, a year later, it suddenly occurred to me in that tiny little office -- what if He never intends on granting me health?

For a year I've focused on the "someday" that I would be normal again.  And now the question haunted me -- what if this is my normal?  What if He molded me "broken", on purpose, for forever?

And through these questions Jesus has taught me something in the last few weeks.  A personal, good, hard, lesson.  And I hope to share it with you.

Bondage

Jesus began by showing me that I carry burdens.  Some are bondage, others are crosses.  My bondage is sin.  He showed me that my love is selfishness in sheep's clothing.  My heart naturally will only extend itself to those that reach toward me.  I care what others think of me.  I cringe under criticism, smart under fancied slights, and have a hard time sleeping if I think others have found out how inadequate and silly I really am.  As A.W. Tozer once put it, "a fear of being found out gnaws like rodents within [my] heart."  I yearn for someone to understand my hurt and sympathize with my "unfair" mandatory restrictive lifestyle.   

And all of this is because I am under bondage to myself.  It is pride that cringes and smarts and tosses.  It is bitterness that groans for sympathy and frowns on God's unfair treatment.  This is something Jesus wants to free me of.  It is an unnecessary burden.  He never meant for me to carry it.  It is not a "cross" or part of His yoke.  It is sinful and truly hurtful without benefit.  Quite different between the purposeful wounds He gives.

Wounds

Recently I was told that Jesus wounds us, and allows it to scar us, for other's sake.  For the "Thomas'" in our world.

For a year I thought I was in the "repair shop".  I thought I was being healed.  But I have learned that maybe this current place of "health" is my complete state.  Maybe I'm not sick, maybe I'm Toni.  A Toni with wounds.  And maybe these wounds are for someone to thrust their hands in, and set their fingers in.  Maybe my wounds aren't for Christ to heal, but for others.  Maybe they could never let Christ touch and heal them, until they have touched my wounds.  

I read this recently that confirmed this thought in my mind -- 

"We need no more be ashamed of our body -- the fleshly servant that carries us through life -- than Jesus was of the humble beast upon which He rode into Jerusalem. 'The Lord has need of [him]' (Matthew 21:3) may well apply to our mortal bodies."  A.W. Tozer

What if God has need of my mortal body being sick?  Am I giving Him my body for His glory?  Am I bringing down his reputation or lifting it up?  His honor is at stake in how I respond to His given wounds.  And with this wound I know He gives the grace that accompanies such a wound. 

I recently wrote in my diary -- 

"He won't let me bleed to death.  But what if He did?  Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.  If I was of the world, the world would cause me to bleed.  But to my detriment.  The world did not give it's life's blood for me.  But Jesus did.  He has every right to ask me for mine.  I have always felt ready to live for Jesus.  To even dire for Jesus.  But what about to slowly bleed for Jesus?  Yes...even cheerfully.  The enemy thinks he's so smart!  He attacks where he knows I am weak.  I've always feared not having good health.  But Jesus wounded me in my health.  I'm already bleeding.  The enemy can't threaten me with blood threats.  And I know Jesus won't waste my blood."

This is aggressive faith.  A daily common faithfulness.  It isn't very glamorous, and it doesn't achieve applause from any audience.  It's this kind of faith -- when I'm tired and it's hard, and Jesus says "Run and don't be weary."  Run?!  When I hurt, and I'm tired, and it's hard?  Yes.  And only because He wants to do the running for us.  He wants to prove Himself through our weakness.

Sometimes before we reap in joy, we have to sow in tears first.  There are people in our lives that we could never hope to reach without having wept first.  And one of the easiest ways of sowing tears, in my life, has come through pain and weakness and wounds.  My wounds are not bondage.  Bondage afflicts and reminds it's victim of it's inferiority.  My wounds give me the greatest ability to boldly trust Him and accept His estimate of my life.  Pride is bondage.  Being sick is weakness.  Such a difference.  

When physically I feel less than human, when my spiritual walk is a constant "get-up-and-fall" routine, when emotionally I'm depleted -- that's when I know He passionately is wanting to live through me.  that's when I can praise Him and give Him glory and He knows I mean it. 

It doesn't mean I have to pretend I feel okay.  It doesn't mean I will feel better when I praise Him, and it doesn't guarantee that it will be okay.  There may never be a day when I am "normal".  But I can still praise Him.  And He will accept it and find glory in it.  All I have to do is choose Him.

We aren't suppose to shine in the darkness by our own light.  We cannot rejoice when we are throwing up.  We are not okay when we are hurting.  

But it's Him that shines through us.  It is Him that gives the ability to praise even when we can't feel the joy.  It is Him that lifts up the feeble hands and gives words for praise when we are in pain.  He purposefully chose weak petty earthen vessels.  Why?  So the excellency of the power of God might be Him and not of us.  We will be troubled on every side, perplexed and confused and persecuted and cast down and sick and depressed.  But God says, though these things will come, through Him we are not distressed or in despair.  We are not forsaken, not utterly destroyed or beyond help.  Not without relief.  Not totally annihilated.

Physically we can pursue health, while spiritually thanking and accepting Him for the wounds.  It's not a contradiction.  We can groan when it hurts, but not murmur.  We can ask why and not understand, while still knowing He is good.  His wounds are hard, but how nightmarish to think of a life where our wounds were from someone else.  I know Him well enough to realize His motive is lovingkindness.

He Himself was a man of sorrows.  Well acquainted with grief.  He doesn't condemn me for my sorrows.  And yet He always did that which pleased the Father.  I can do the same thought Him.  If we can honor Him with our wounds and crosses, it can easily be surmised that we can do Him dishonor in them as well.  And what makes the difference?  We can either allow our wounds to make us bitter and hold us in bondage, or, we can allow His grace to hold us up and express itself to others.

If God made me, allowed me, gave me, a sick body, I am not offensive to Him.  I cannot offend Him by placing my  sick self under His responsibility.  I am a work of His Hands and He is not ashamed of His creation.  

I can glorify Him when I eat mushy green glop.  How?  By glorifying Him in spite of it.  I don't have to pretend to like it.  But I can still praise Him with a thankful heart knowing He wants to use me, even in eating mushy green glop.  It can be hard when I am separated from everyone and everything I deem dear or good.  This effects my entire being (spiritually, emotionally, physically) and to realize how it doesn't effect anyone around me is discouraging.  My world is rocked violently and their's goes untouched.  
Yet how silly to think this way!  Everyone has their own wounds.  Their bondage God pleads with them to take.  Their wounds He waits to use and glean glory from.  Who am I to think my world is the only one that is a roller coaster ride?  

Are our wounds and weaknesses easy?  Never.  In fact, they can be a tortuous abyss.  And yet when I consider every hardship, every hurt, every sacrifice, and reclaimed dream, I smile with assurance, because in every case,  they have been a mass of mercies. 

"God never withholds from His child that which His love and wisdom calls good...While it is perfectly true that some of my worst fears did, in fact, materialize, I see them now as 'an abyss and mass of mercies,' appointed and assigned by a loving and merciful Father who sees the end from the beginning.  He asks us to trust Him."  Elizabeth Elliot 


Related Posts:



Starless 


Haunted 


The War We Forget 

Silly Scribbles/ A Chain of Difference

 Spiritual Lessons/ Health and Beauty

Silly Scribbles
#2

~ Or Life as Toni ~

Just recently I started a little series of writings that I titled “Silly Scribbles” or “Life as Toni”.  I began posting them on a private writing club that I joined.  I received such positive feedback I decided to be be brave and share with my Maid Arise readers.  

So often the writer in me throbs and insists, but my current work in progress is strictly grammatical at this point and my creative juices feel cramped and unjustly squelched. So I have decided to allow these juices passage and wait to see what comes of it. I decided to share my experiences with you. Sometimes my life can be quite humorous to the point of disbelief which I have come to accept as normal.... or sometimes I learn new things about myself or little lessons God teaches through the inevitable we've fondly labeled “life”. I hope that these shared stories and bearings of the soul are somehow a blessing, or in the least, a few minutes of entertainment.

The Chain of Difference

“Good Morning ladies, what kind of beverage can I start you out with?”

Normally I would have asked for coffee, but I hadn't had even a sip of coffee in over four months.

I smiled up at the waitress confidently. “Tea please”

I was almost sure the waitress looked a little surprised but she quickly turned to my new friend across from me – “And you?”

“The same, please.”

I had only recently met Bethany, a sweet Christian young woman who I had decided to try to get to know better. The Lord has specifically put her on my heart that week which had prompted me to ask the day before if she would like to spend her lunch hour together. Bethany was delighted, but decided that breakfast would be even better and invited me out for the next day.

What she didn't know was that I went home slightly anxious after accepting her invitation. I had planned to just bring my own lunch and spend her lunch hour with her, but “going out” led me to quite the conundrum. I can only eat five foods. What was I going to eat at a Diner? Bringing my own breakfast was out of the question. But when I thought of what “normal” people eat for breakfast I felt defeated. Bacon or sausage...nope. Can't have pork. Eggs, french toast, pancakes, waffles, fruit....nope, nope and nope. I couldn't even “get away” with eating a little bit. Any of those foods would nearly kill me. And so, there I was, sitting in a Diner, with a lovely young woman who had graciously invited me to breakfast, without the ability to eat any breakfast kind of food. This is Toni... the girl who eats chicken legs and carrot juice for breakfast.

After receiving our tea we chit chatted about our families and our recent activities. I sweetened my tea with stevia from my purse and Bethany didn't seem to think anything of it. I relaxed a little. What made me so nervous? Bethany wasn't going to “un-friend” me just because I am different. But that was it – I hated sticking out. I hated being different. Even as a child I remember going through great pains to meld. I always feared that the things I didn't understand were obvious to everyone but me, and would go along, totally in the dark, too afraid to ask any questions. Or how the kids in private school bought their lunches, but mine were made at home, and this bothered me. My brother was always different than everyone else, but seemed to revel in it. Chris didn't care that he thought differently or didn't like what everyone else did, or that his only friend in first grade was the little fat girl everyone disliked. But I cared. I wanted people to like me. I have always desired for approval. I dread the idea of someone, anyone, being upset with me.

“Alright, so what can I get for you girls this morning?”

I had already scanned the menu. Nothing. They even served oatmeal, but I couldn't eat that either.

I looked up at Bethany and found her expectantly waiting for me to go first.

I looked back down at the menu and decided.

“I would like a hamburger, please”.

I couldn't really blame the waitress for looking at me the way she did – it was eight 'o clock in the morning.

“Okay....would you like anything on the side....like hashbrowns or the fruit dish?”

“No thank you....just a hamburger....without the bun please.”

She was writing on her little note pad when she did a double-take. “No bun?”

“Yes, please....” I looked down at the menu to see what came on the burger and took in a deep breath before adding – “and no ketchup or mustard, or onion or cheese...” I took one more look at the Hog's Flat Angus Burger description. “...or pickle.”

I looked back up to see the waitress with pen held above her pad, her eyes with a blank expression, just staring. I didn't dare look at Bethany.

“You mean....” she finally said, “you want a hamburger for breakfast...?”

I nodded.

“...with no ketchup, no onion, no cheese and no pickle?”

“Yes please.”

She looked at me incredulously. She was a bigger woman, with her hair pulled up too tight, and a brusque voice that seemed to carry across the diner.

“Ooookaay. And what about you?” She turned to Bethany.

I looked up at Bethany to meet her amused face. She was smiling at me, but not only with amusement but almost admiration. “The same please.”

I was surprised. “Beth, you don't have to get the same as me....”

She cut me short and laughed and then looked up at the waitress with a confidence that I realized I had used with the waitress, even if I hadn't felt it. “A hamburger please”.

And so our breakfast was a success and I learned not only how to order breakfast in a Diner on an elimination diet, but also that real friends can enjoy eating hamburgers at eight o' clock A.M. :)

***

It amuses me really that in general, people seem to strive for difference. As if they seek individuality in it. While all my life I've yearned to be normal. I've always been a slow learner. Also being a Christian woman in this day and age makes me stand out. And now I'm the girl with only squash, meat and carrots on her “Can eat” list.

Who would have guessed that seeing everyone's hands take a sandwich off a platter would make me feel lonely? Or when everyone says “Hey, let's go get an icecream!” Or to sit at the table and see that every plate matches, everything on the dishes looks and smells the same until you come to my seat. Not only am I alone in my difference, but alone in a crowd. Like a jagged puzzle piece that is pronounced by the fact everyone else matches, but me. Not only bereaved but different.

And yet, being different has two sides. It is definitely hard to be different and pointed out. But it has become my new norm, and I have found most people, waitresses discluded, are quite accepting of my difference. The other side is to be forgotten.

Sometimes others presume I don't join in because it's my preference. They have no concept of the invisible chains that hold me back. Difference is no longer a mark that defines me, but a barrier that separates. Difference has become a norm in my life, but others can forget. My difference isn't their constant companion, but mine; it's easy for them to overlook, but it's become my life.

And yet the chain of difference has been entrusted to me. For a reason. Why do I care if no-one knows what sacrifices I must make in order to live my life? They too may have secret sacrifices that hold them back from something I take for granted in my own life. I do not need people to relate in order for me to live life to the fullest. It would be nice to be understood, but their ignorance is not a hindrance, and it certainly is not a show of disinterest in me as a person.

How lovely to be given a life that Jesus has charted exclusively for me. What if it includes difference? With this difference comes Himself as my companion. And not for some of the journey, but all of it. I don't need any one else. He knows the weight of difference. He knows the loneliness. He sees the invisible chains, for He allowed them to be hung about my neck. For my good. They teach me dependence, need, love, empathy. These chains are also a link to others souls who bear similar ones. And I would never have been able to understand had I not had this freedom of normality taken from me.

What liberates me from my chain is not escaping it's weight but the attitude in which I wear it. My chain can become wings of sympathy, and my captivity a prayer for others. The mark of difference is nothing to be despised. I have never had anything else prepare my soul for crucifixion as well as my chain of difference.

Different? Yes, but I have come to accept Difference as a blessing instead of a barrier. A direct link to the very One I need. I have found my chain of difference a gold one.


For more on "chains"click here.

Chains

 Spiritual Lessons 

Chains 

I have noticed lately that Jesus has been asking me to give up certain things I have linked myself to, and attach to other things I never would have chosen for myself.

 I have linked myself to new "chains".  These chains are where I belong -- no matter how rusty or broken their links seem.  Sometimes the entire chain has issues -- but He has asked me to attach. Of course I'd rather be part of chains that are strong, unwarrped and without missing links.  But I am only responsible for my own link.

While sharing this idea with my parents of "chains and links" I realized that I could now pin-point a source of hurt.  I used to be part of a "chain".  There was a camaraderie, a certain loyalty.  There were understood "un-saids" that we didn't do....that would be "breaking our chain".  We were an alliance. 

And yet this chain kept me from moving forward in other relationships.  My allegiance was missing where it should have been.  And then recently my faith in this chain was shaken.  My world was turned upside down and I detached myself from this chain.  

For the last 4 years Jesus has been asking me to "detach".  From media that was less than Philippians 4:8 worthy.  Food...dance....relationships... This is the ever-going theme of the lessons He has been teaching me.  Everything He has asked me to separate from were actually not "bad things" but they were chains I was linked to that held me back from possessing His best.  I could not take what He had to offer because I was linked to chains that held me back.  

When I lost faith in this recent "chain" I was able to let go.  And while weeping and groping in the dark Jesus offered a new chain to be linked to.  Chains are a little uncomfortable -- but the right chain is a security and a protection.  It's one of the best choices I've ever made. 


What I struggle with now is the pain of no longer belonging to the chain He had me give up.  There is always pain in cutting away.  I miss my chain.  Loneliness is worse in a crowd.  To be alone is hard, but to be set apart in a mass only emphasizes my difference.  Those that belong  to my old "chain" don't even seem to miss me.  My rightful chain is such a reward and I know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be linked, but it does not compensate for the suffering of being severed.  I not only feel bereaved, but forgotten.  Some chains that He has asked me to detach from are not "evil" and I don't understand why I've been asked to separate. He has broken chains that seemed to be good.  Obeying Him has required extrication from people I have loved or who I was "attached" to.  Automatically I have become a misfit, a jagged puzzle piece that doesn't match any other soul.  

And yet, this separation has caused me to depend on Jesus.  And I've been able to accept the rightful chains He has for me because I am free from all other chains. It would feel better and easier not having to detach and yet He has become my everything because of it.  I can move forward.  This separation is a gift. I am learning to embrace it.  It is actually because He cares that He has asked this of me.  He is protecting me. How lovely to realize that He is cutting away the chains that hampered me, and it is His embrace that now chains me.  I don't want the old chains any more.  There is a cost to following Him....but it's worth it!  It is painful but who wants to be chained to something less than best when you can exchange it with Him?  

What could any thorn

Hold against a friend?

What could any cross

Compare to His scarred hands?

I can feel the thorns

Their power slash and sting

But with Him close beside

Can only kneel and sing

Wondrous Christ here at Your feet

Your glad friend forever

I'll never go no other way

But to Your will surrender

Such desire to talk with You

Besides the time to ask

No matter the cost of following

No matter the given task

I willingly allow Him 

To set my life afire

And let Him mold and press and take

Because He is the Potter 

Though this leaves me often bare 

Of things to which I'd clung

But with this painful outgoing

I've found that He has come

I'll gladly take this sweet exchange

For He is worth it all

And though I cannot grasp the why

I'll give to every call

When He tells me I must wait

I'll cheerfully abide

And cast on Him my every care

And be His little bride

What could any thorn

Hold against a friend?

What could any cross

Compare to His scarred hands?