How often I have found myself on my knees, begging the Holy One for clarity while my hands felt the walls about me, my eyesight failing, my mind growing with anxiety and fear! How easy it is to be the boy who crawls through the dark, all knees and elbows, head bowed and tired with the personal fright of the things to come -- those terrible things unseen and daunting in the black abyss of the unknown.
But the voice calls to me. "Be strong and courageous."
We are not asked to look for clarity, but to trust in God's reliability. My buddy Jeff has a tendency to say, "God will not rip you off," and it is true. Why would the loving God of my Salvation let me wander about the darkness while those things lurk about without giving me the Hand of His Protection? He would not!
Brennan Manning, in Ruthless Trust, puts it this way:
"Craving clarity, we attempt to eliminate the risk of trusting God. Fear of the unknown path stretching ahead of us destroys childlike trust in the Father's active goodness and unrestricted love.
We often presume that trust will dispel the confusion, illuminate the darkness, vanquish the uncertainty, and redeem the times. But the crowd of witnesses in Hebrews 11 testifies that this is not the case. Our trust does not bring final clarity on this earth. It does not still the chaos or dull the pain or provide a crutch. When all else is unclear, the heart of trust says, as Jesus did on the cross, 'Into your hands I commit my spirit' (Luke 23:46).
If we could free ourselves from the temptation to make faith a mindless assent to a dusty pawnship of doctrinal beliefs, we would discover with alarm that the essence of biblical faith lies in trusting God." (Manning 6)
As opposed to that child, all knees and elbows, as I said, I would prefer to be the blind man who stands with regular breathing, hands at his sides, ready to walk into the fire if that is where his Lord leads him. Better still, to stand in my ferocity and welcome the darkness, knowing it cannot prevail. For though I cannot see in the dark, where my God lives there can be not but light.
The light will live in me, even if I stand in perfect darkness. Should the trees close in, I will not cry out. I will fear, but I will trust.
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3 comments:
For though I cannot see in the dark, where my God lives there can be not but light.
I like that. A lot.
I have only read a few of your posts thus far, but I am blessed by the strength in your words and the quiet consideration with which you seem to craft them.
I saw your comment on my page. I have responded to it on my page. I do this for 2 reasons:
1. it helps to contain a conversation in one place
2. it forces people to come back and check for responses thus keeping my readership up ;)
Hey Aziner, thanks for the comment. I try to use words with weight and mold them in a fashion befitting someone of Strength without coming off as underhanded. Oh, and thanx for the Easter post as well.
I think you have been successful in not coming off as underhanded. I can sense something deeper in your words, a passion for strength that supports them. It seems to be something so essentially a part of you and something you so desire more of that your words cannot help but reflect it.
you're welcome for the Easter post. :)
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