I spent a little time looking back over this blog today, and realized that I have been writing much less frequently on the topic of the journey.
The rhythms of life are always changing. My schedule took on a decidedly different shape this year, starting in September, which precipitated a number of corollary changes.
Another life-altering transformation arose from the arrival of my sweet grandson, with all the promise and potential for great hope that a new baby births in us.
New activities came into my life, new things for me to set my mind to: Bible study preparation, for one thing, which was a tremendous blessing. God taught me much about humility this year, while we studied 1 Corinthians. These lessons came just in the nick of time, when I needed them sorely, and He helped me apply my studies to my real life, navigating a tricky situation with the powerful sufficiency of His Holy Spirit. It was indeed a miracle. I brim with gratitude and gladness.
The other blessed diversion in my life came in the form of trips to see my precious grandson. What joy, what love a baby brings. I've traveled to visit him four times. That's four trips since Christmas, four trips in five months, essentially. If that doesn't fill up one's mind to distraction from one's worries, I don't know what will.
In one sense, I stopped hoping about the things that worried me. This is not to say that I've given up hope. However, I have certainly given up any agenda I ever had. I have one hope: the hope of grace, the hope of restoration and salvation. I will never give up this hope. My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness. God is faithful. I hold this hope as an anchor for my soul, firm and secure, which is a phrase from Hebrews 6:19.
It was only a day or two ago when I realized that Hebrews 6:19 is in Hebrews 6 (I was familiar with the words, but not the reference). Hebrews 6! That is my nemesis chapter of fear, where it says, It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit, who have tasted the goodness of the Word of God and the powers of the coming age, if they fall away, to be brought back to repentance (Hebrews 6:4-6). This is one of those Bible texts where I have to squint as I read it, and hold my breath, because it is so completely terrifying to consider.
I don't know what it means, but having tasted the goodness of the Holy Spirit, and having received His great and very precious promises, and through these precious promises (which are all yes in Christ Jesus), having been allowed to participate in the Divine Nature and be indwelt by the Holy Spirit Himself, who promises never to leave me nor forsake me, I just wonder, could it even really happen? Can someone who has been indwelt with the Holy Spirit fall away? I don't see how it could happen, because the Holy Spirit does the work. He convicts, He softens the heart with the gentle rain of His presence, He gives sight and illumination, He teaches, He encourages and sustains and empowers. He comes in, gives life to the dead heart, and moves the soul into the process of transformation. He renews and transforms. He does it.
The writer of Hebrews gives the stern and terrifying warning in Hebrews 6:4-6, but he goes on to say in Hebrews 6:9, "Even though we speak like this, dear friends, we are confident of better things in your case--things that accompany salvation."
When I made the connection that Hebrews 6:19 (the verse about how God's perfect faithfulness is a firm and secure anchor for our hope) is in this very same chapter, I was overwhelmed with relief.
Shawn always says, "Why would God give us the parable of the prodigal son, if those who leave the Father can never come back? That would be the opposite of what Jesus taught."
Then there is the stunning proclamation in Hosea 14:4, where God says, "I will heal their waywardness and love them freely, for my anger has turned away from them." Some translations even quote God saying, "I will heal their apostasy." Healed apostasy! Don't we call apostasy the unforgivable sin? And yet, right here in the Old Testament, The Old Testament, mind you, which many claim showcases a harsh and ungracious God, right here in the Old Testament, God says He will heal people's apostasy. It's amazing. It's outrageous. It's the best news there could possibly be.
I cling to my hope in the goodness and lovingkindness of the Lord, my hope in His faithfulness to all generations, my hope in His mighty power and the efficacy of the death and resurrection of Christ.
A number of years ago, I had been studying a few influential Christian teachers, John Piper being the one I remember. I remember reading that the Lord wants our emotions and affections to be engaged in our worship of Him. At the time, I was struggling to feel. It seemed like I was surrounded by influences that encouraged me to prioritize an emotional experience over truth, and that made me backlash against the idea of feelings. Personally, I long for truth. When truth implants in my heart and becomes real to me, that is when I can feel something. I need substantive truth to evoke emotions of gratitude and joy in me.
Conviction struck me as I identified my evasion of emotions. Awkward, simple and confused, I did not know how to give the Lord my affections and emotions. Back in the messy little study on Sugar Pine Circle in Liverpool, NY, I prayed for God to help me love Him as I should, for Him to teach me how to give Him my emotions and affections, for Him to let me feel what He wanted me to feel about Him.
I wonder, today, if part of this long journey I've been traveling is God's answer to that very prayer. So much pain, fear and disappointment have assailed me; yet, He always holds me secure. I have spent long nights curled in a ball with my Bible, crying into a filthy old t-shirt, because even that was not enough material to absorb the wetness falling from my face. I have felt utter despair for circumstances, and yet I have found, through His power, the strength to push my pen down the line of a page in my prayer journal, writing out the words, "I will praise Him anyway." I have meditated on God's attributes, and found more comfort in who He is than in what He has done. I have met God, and laid on my face before Him, humiliated and broken, with nothing to say, no words.
Once when I had no words, I started to pray the Lord's Prayer. That may have been when I started to learn to pray in a new way. Thy will be done. That is the prayer I must be willing to pray. Not my will, but Yours. Whatever it takes, I must be willing to pray. Whatever it takes. I trust You, because You are altogether good and altogether loving. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
How strange that the most terrifying prayer is also the one that brings all the relief.
The Lord has been bringing me to the end of myself, teaching me to die to myself and trust in Jesus. He has taught me to pray, to seek Him and know Him, to dig deep into His word and learn the beautiful things He has for me there, even to memorize a little. He's starting to teach me compassion, although the outward manifestations of compassion come slowly to one who is as skittish of people as I am.
He is working on me through this journey, so much work that I never could have imagined, never would have known to request. Yet, I can honestly say that I love Him more than ever, as I stumble along this difficult pathway. I give up my personal dreams, and I hope in Him, because, as 2 Corinthians 1:9-10 tells us, He brings us through deadly peril to make us rely not on ourselves, but on God who raises the dead--on Him we have set our hope.
The Lord is good to all; He has compassion on all He has made.
~ Psalm 145:9
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