Today I am trying to recover from more than one kind of storm--one of which was very literal two nights ago and which left most of our area without electricity for 17 hours. Our friends the Ambroses still do not have electricity because their electric pole blew over, and neither does the church because the electric mast blew over. An electrician came today to give an estimate for the simple reason that Jonathan cannot do everything.
There have been literal bad weather storms and also medical storms and other kinds as well.
So a hymn Sunday evening (hours away) played by a twelve-year-old boy on the piano meant ever so much to me.
As he sat down and his fingers began to ripple over the keys, I recognized the hymn as one of my favorites.
From every stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm, a sure retreat;
Tis found beneath the mercy seat.
There is a place where Jesus sheds
The oil of gladness on our heads,
A place than all besides more sweet;
It is the blood-bought mercy seat.
Ah, whither could we flee for aid,
When tempted, desolate, dismayed?
Or how the hosts of hell defeat,
Had suffering saints no mercy seat?
Ah, there on eagle's wings we soar,
Where sin and sense molest no more,
And Heav'n comes down our souls to greet,
While glory crowns the mercy seat.
It was a hymn I had sung at a Messianic Jewish church in Kiev, Ukraine, about 32 years ago, in both English and Russian. I would never forget that experience.
And on this last Sunday, despite not having the words handy, the spirit of the song came through amazingly as that young boy's hands glided giftedly over the ivories, playing sometimes very simply, sometimes all over the keys.
Apparently I was not the only person who was touched by the song, for the pastor of that church requested that the congregation sing it when the boy was finished playing it, and we did.
I find that the word I am more and more often hearing from the Lord is calling me to rest in Him--even though there are loud voices out there urging otherwise.
It seems there are always super spiritual ways to ignore and neglect the ordinary duties and callings of life in this world as the human beings that God created, versus the being of God or angels who have no human needs like we poor humans have.
Ignoring our humanity so that we can be super spiritual is a type of gnosticism. And children, spouses, and young people are the worst losers when this kind of thing is going on.
One of the main characteristics of Gnosticism is a separation between the spiritual realm and the material world (as in the world as we see it being evil). The physical and emotional needs of spouses, homes, and children are neglected while things that are considered more "spiritual" or "ministry-related" are all-important.
And people are exhausted. I see this with my own eyes and feel it in my heart.
Is God asking all this of us?
Is being constantly exhausted somehow more spiritual than being rested and joyful in our daily walk with God?
Is focusing fully on the need and duty at hand not enough unless we have earbuds in to listen to sermons hour after hour?
Days ago I saved this sweet clipping because it has practically been my motto for years as a mother with children at home and a pretty ordinary spouse (definitely not the super spiritual kind)--ever since the Lord had to teach me that ordinary work--done with love for Him--is every bit as spiritual as hours spent in prayer, fasting, ministry, evangelism, and other service of that type to the Lord.
Little of my life felt very "spiritual."
Most of my time was spent (and still is spent) trying to keep meals on the table, doing laundry, taking care of family, home, and sometimes animals--and canning in the summer and fall.
Hymns like the one this twelve-year-old boy played Sunday,
music that flowed from his heart through his fingers,
have meant more and more to me as the stress of life's burdens floats away for just a moment as we sing and meditate on the mercy seat to which we can come in time of need.
Of course I try to pray and read God's Word and reach lost souls and "carry a burden for the people around me." But mostly I have learned that actually God wants me to let Him carry the burden and the heavy end of the load.
And when my load gets too heavy, I have learned to ask myself, "Is this God placing this load on me, or is it myself or someone else?"
As a poor human, I can actually ask in prayer simply and then leave the burden at the foot of the cross.
"There is a calm, a sure retreat,
'Tis found beneath the mercy seat."
No comments:
Post a Comment