This Blessed Restlessness

I have obsessed for so long over the enormity of the job of parenting, my inadequacy to that task, the shortcomings of my marriage, and my longings for more than this.

Like Peter, I believe that the Lord can work miracles, that He can choose to calm the storm or choose to simply carry me through it, but I get distracted by the raging storm and I begin to drown.

Then the Holy Spirit whispers in my ear, “Do you trust Me?” followed by His gentle reminder…
“My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”

Is my anxiety evidence of my distrust? Do I know the God of all creation well enough to rest in His sovereignty moment by moment? Is it even possible to leave off our human-ness long enough to really find that elusive rest?

God alone can provide the comfort that comes in knowing that even the painful things in life can and will be used for my own good. True to His character, God plans for my life that which is better for me beyond my human understanding or imagination. But what is God’s best for me? Not a promise for health and wealth and entertainment. These are temporary diversions at most and God’s best for me may or may not include any of these things. His ultimate goal is to glorify Himself in making me Christlike, and His ultimate reward for me is Himself – the things that moth and rust cannot destroy and thief cannot steal. Indeed, the things that last forever.

Lord, grant that I might find real rest in you, moment by moment, and know in my gut that it is not up to me to make my marriage into one of Your design, make my children into godly people, make my home a place of perfect serenity and order. But if I might be a tool in your hands, Lord, work through me (and in spite of me) to accomplish these things.

And when in your plan You have ordained NOT to accomplish these things, may it be to drive each of us to the end of ourselves at the foot of the Cross, to point our gaze Heaven-ward, heightening our God-given thirst for You and for eternity with You. Remind us then in our restlessness that we are not made for the here and now, although we are temporarily and irresistibly distracted by it and bound to it. Show us our longing for Heaven where we will know You as we are known by You. Cause us to persevere through this day of battle and make us mindful of the day coming quickly on us when we will finally and joyfully bound home like school children into Your waiting arms.

Finally, Father, make me to keep a loose grip on all these lesser things so that nothing can take Your place of supremacy in my heart. In Christ, I have all I need. Make it so that You are all I want.

Nearer, My God, to Thee

Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!
E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me,
Still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee.
Refrain

Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee!
Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,
Darkness be over me, my rest a stone.
Yet in my dreams I’d be nearer, my God, to Thee.
Refrain

There let the way appear, steps unto Heav’n;
All that Thou sendest me, in mercy given;
Angels to beckon me nearer, my God, to Thee.
Refrain

Then, with my waking thoughts bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs Bethel I’ll raise;
So by my woes to be nearer, my God, to Thee.
Refrain

Or, if on joyful wing cleaving the sky,
Sun, moon, and stars forgot, upward I’ll fly,
Still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee.
Refrain

There in my Father’s home, safe and at rest,
There in my Savior’s love, perfectly blest;
Age after age to be, nearer, my God, to Thee.
Refrain

Be Still My Soul

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

Be still, my soul: begin the song of praise
On earth, believing, to Thy Lord on high;
Acknowledge Him in all thy words and ways,
So shall He view thee with a well pleased eye.
Be still, my soul: the Sun of life divine
Through passing clouds shall but more brightly shine.

This hymn was re­port­ed­ly the fav­or­ite of Er­ic Lid­dell, the ath­lete who be­came fa­mous in the 1924 Olym­pics for re­fus­ing to run on the Sab­bath (see the mo­vie Char­i­ots of Fire). Lid­dell lat­er be­came a mis­sion­ary in Chi­na, and was im­pris­oned dur­ing World War II. He is said to have taught this hymn to others in the pri­son camp (where he event­u­al­ly died of a brain tu­mor).

O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow may richer, fuller be.

O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day may brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain, that morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red life that shall endless be.

George Matheson (this hymn's author) said of it:
"My hymn was com­posed in the manse of In­ne­lan [Ar­gyle­shire, Scot­land] on the ev­en­ing of the 6th of June, 1882, when I was 40 years of age. I was alone in the manse at that time. It was the night of my sister’s mar­ri­age, and the rest of the fam­i­ly were stay­ing over­night in Glas­gow. Some­thing hap­pened to me, which was known only to my­self, and which caused me the most se­vere men­tal suf­fer­ing. The hymn was the fruit of that suf­fer­ing. It was the quick­est bit of work I ever did in my life. I had the im­press­ion of hav­ing it dic­tat­ed to me by some in­ward voice ra­ther than of work­ing it out my­self. I am quite sure that the whole work was com­plet­ed in five min­utes, and equal­ly sure that it ne­ver re­ceived at my hands any re­touch­ing or cor­rect­ion. I have no na­tur­al gift of rhy­thm. All the other vers­es I have ever writ­ten are man­u­fact­ured ar­ti­cles; this came like a day­spring from on high."

For Lack of a Better Word

Recent Quotables...

Franklepea: (watching TV) Goofy the Great!
Mommy: Who is Goofy the Great?
Franklepea: That's what they call Goofy when he's "magicky" -- you know, a "magic-tricker".
________________________________

(thunder claps)
Mommy: Ooh, did you hear that?
Franklepea: Was that thunder, or is someone firing cracker-nuts?
________________________________

Franklepea (watching a commercial): Ooh, I want to see that movie.
Mommy: What movie is that?
Franklepea: The Little Wormaid.

Jungle Bugs

Our team of "Tumble Bugs" by way of one misunderstanding became more appropriately named "Jungle Bugs." Their domain, a Lord of the Flies-esque upstairs play area where small people reign and grown people struggle for dominance. Their language, incomprehensible to grown people and a tool for clandestine communication. Here is the tribe's current chief (under constant threat of mutiny by the smaller members) and the tribe at the entrance to their lair...

I Need Thee Every Hour

I need Thee every hour, most gracious Lord
No tender voice like Thine can peace afford.

Refrain
I need Thee, O I need Thee
Every hour I need Thee
O bless me now, my Savior, I come to Thee.

I need Thee every hour, stay Thou nearby
Temptations lose their power when Thou art nigh.
Refrain

I need Thee every hour, in joy or pain
Come quickly and abide, or life is in vain.
Refrain

I need Thee every hour; teach me Thy will
And Thy rich promises in me fulfill.
Refrain

I need Thee every hour, most Holy One
O make me Thine indeed, Thou blessèd Son.
Refrain

Annie Hawks (this hymn's author) wrote:
One day as a young wife and mo­ther of 37 years of age, I was bu­sy with my reg­u­lar house­hold tasks. Sud­den­ly, I be­came so filled with the sense of near­ness to the Mast­er that, won­der­ing how one could live with­out Him, ei­ther in joy or pain, these words, “I Need Thee Ev­e­ry Hour,” were ush­ered in­to my mind, the thought at once tak­ing full pos­sess­ion of me.

After writ­ing the lyr­ics, Hawks gave them to her pas­tor, Ro­bert Low­ry, who add­ed the tune and re­frain. The hymn was first pub­lished at the Na­tion­al Bap­tist Sun­day School Con­ven­tion in Cin­cin­na­ti, Ohio, in No­vem­ber 1872. Some years lat­er, af­ter the death of her hus­band, Hawks wrote:

I did not un­der­stand at first why this hymn had touched the great throb­bing heart of hu­man­i­ty. It was not un­til long af­ter, when the sha­dow fell over my way, the sha­dow of a great loss, that I un­der­stood some­thing of the com­fort­ing pow­er in the words which I had been per­mit­ted to give out to others in my hour of sweet se­ren­i­ty and peace.