Convicting Hymns

"But we never can prove
the delight of His love
Until all at the altar we lay" (emphasis mine)

This is part of one of the verses of the well-known hymn Trust and Obey. I sang this hymn often enough as a child to have a comfortable familiarity with it (even played it on the piano!); but, as with many hymns, if it's not part of the first verse, I don't remember it nearly as well. These words particularly struck me as I listened to them in the car yesterday (on Hymns for a Kid's Heart Vol. 2, which is one of the things we got for Rebecca for Christmas).

Most of you reading this know that I have been wrestling with God for a long time regarding my chronic illnesses. I thought I was trusting and obeying...why wasn't I happy in Jesus (like the chorus says)? These words from verse 4 made me realize (not necessarily for the first time, but at least they renewed my attention to the fact) that much of my frustration has been coming from holding onto some things more tightly than I hold onto Him. Things like health, comfort, being able to sleep when I need to sleep, having normal blood sugars, feeling energetic (or at least not dragging), feeling useful, having lots of friends, being healthy enough to have more children, wanting to be good (or faster) at things that I am not good (or faster) at, wanting God to reveal a reason for everything that He does in my life (or other people's lives, for that matter) that's not what I would have done if it were up to me. I idolize these things in my heart, instead of being willing to accept whatever my God ordains is right...which leads me to this next convicting hymn, by Samuel Rodigast, in 1675:

Whate'er my God ordains is right: his holy will abideth;
I will be still whatever he doth, and follow where he guideth
He is my God; though dark my road,
He holds me that I shall not fall, wherefore to Him I leave it all.

Whate'er my God ordains is right: he never will deceive me;
He leads me by the proper path; I know He will not leave me
I take content what He hath sent;
His hand can turn my griefs away, and patiently I wait His day.

Whate'er my God ordains is right: though now this cup in drinking,
May bitter seem to my faint heart, I take it all unshrinking.
My God is true; each morn anew
Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart, and pain and sorrow shall depart.

Whate'er my God ordains is right: here shall my stand be taken;
Though sorrow, need, or death by mine, yet I am not forsaken.
My Father's care is round me there
He holds me that I shall not fall: and so to Him I leave it all.

I hesitantly to ask you to pray with me that God makes this my attitude, because I know it is a painful, ongoing process to have one's heart corrected...and I don't like pain!

When God seems far away

It's early Christmas morning and I haven't been able to fall asleep, so I've been doing some reading. I was encouraged by the Christmas Edition of the Patriot Post (reposted with permission):

For my family, Christmas is much more than a day, a season or a collection of
memories and rituals. Christmas is a lens through which we endeavor to view all
things -- the universe of our Creator and His purpose for us -- every day.

However, it can be difficult at times to comprehend God's plan for us --
after all, how are we to discern our minuscule role in the enormity of His
creation? In fact, in our home, we can become so distracted by the daily
challenges, demands and routines that we sometimes neglect to seek His purpose
for us.

On top of our efforts to maintain a strong marriage and manage
our home, Ann and I are raising three children, ages 10, 13 and 15, who have
three very distinct personalities, attend three different schools, and are off
in three different directions most of their waking hours. (We have friends who
have more children and greater challenges, and remain in awe of their ability to
manage, and even thrive.)

Recently, my 15-year old son, a faithful and bright young Patriot, came to me with a heavy heart. He told me that sometimes he loses his bearing, feels disconnected from God, and that separation causes him distress.

I acknowledge to him that, similarly, there have been days in my life when I have felt detached from God, and in those times I also struggle with questions about meaning and purpose.

What I have learned (at considerable personal cost) about being disconnected from God is that this division is always the result of my looking to the world for purpose rather than our Creator. Inevitably, after some consternation, I awaken to the reality that our cultural compasses are perpetually disorienting.

Contemporary culture relentlessly encourages us, even seduces us, to irrevocably link our identity to its trappings -- what we do, what we have, who we're with, and the like. But all of these connections are temporal. In the end, if we take our
bearings from the culture around us, we are destined to experience emptiness,
which it then offers to fill with various distractions and forms of sedation.

I told my son that through my life's trials, I have learned we must look
up before we look out -- that we must look to God in order to understand His
purpose for us in the world. Indeed, if we define our purpose in cultural terms,
or worse, if we try to understand Him through the world's lens, we are destined
to remain astray.

(to continue reading, click here)

While not a new concept to me, it is always good to be reminded that it is futile and unfulfilling to look for my purpose anywhere but from God.

The gospel according to an almost-two-year-old

Rebecca is becoming more and more capable of combining words. It is especially fun for me to see her repeating ideas that we have tried to instill in her, particularly biblical concepts. Her first exposure to Jesus dying on the cross was in her rhyming toddler Bible, and she picked up on the symbol of the cross pretty quickly and would identify it whenever she saw it (in books, on church buildings, even the letter "t", and the underside of her Mega Blocks).

The past few months we have added a short explanation about the cross whenever she sees one and mentions it, and now she has her own almost-two-years-old version of the gospel that she spouts off whenever she sees a cross. It goes like this: "Cross-Jesus-died-sad-then-rose again-happy!" I know she doesn't fully understand what death is or why Jesus had to die, but it is still encouraging to me to know that she is listening to what we are saying and that God is already at work in her heart.

She also has a very good understanding of obedience and disobedience, and whenever she obeys, she says, "Yea, Rebecca! Obey! Jesus happy! Mommy happy! Daddy happy!" and sometimes extends the happiness to her stuffed animals and/or various aunts, uncles, grandparents, and even babysitters, even if they are not present at the time. And whenever she disobeys, she recognizes that all these same people are sad. Then I pray with her and ask Jesus to help her obey, and afterwards, she says, "Better now." I think this is my favorite part of parenting so far!