A Singular Coal

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA A young man had come to a decision. “I will not be attending Church. I need to stand on my feet, and be a Christian my own way.” He was quite adamant about this, and his young wife hadn’t the slightest about what to do. It seems he had grown somewhat hard and coarse over the last few months. He had quit attending services for the last few Sundays.

She had made a discreet call to their pastor; she also prayed for her husband. “What else can I do?” she thought. “We really need to go to church.” She went about her busy morning, washing clothes, and tending the fire. “Somethings are best left in God’s hands” she said to no one in particular.

That evening was chilly and a fire was banked up quite nicely. The little house was cozy and ready to be “buttoned-up” for the night, when there was a knock on the door. It was the pastor, smiling and holding his hat. “Good evening. dear ones– someone told me you had a nice fire to sit by.”

“Come in, Reverend; please, come and sit,” the young husband said. He was not really enthused by the pastor’s sudden and unannounced visit, but he was polite. Removing his coat, the pastor sat in big wing-backed chair by the fire. He was quiet. No one said a thing. They just watched the flames.

The silence continued for some time; no one saying a word. Suddenly, the pastor popped up and grabbed the black iron poker from its spot by the fireplace. Poking at the sizable bed of coals, he managed to drag a single coal from the fire bed to the hearth. He separated it from the rest of so it burned on its own.

Still, not a word was spoken. Everyone just sat and watched this isolated coal burning on its own. In just a short time this glowing coal had become a dying ember. No one spoke. The pastor guided the once bright coal back into the hottest part of the firebox where it blazed up immediately. “Well, it’s late and I best be going,” said the quiet guest.

“Thank you, Pastor, for everything. We’ll see you Sunday morning.” said the young man.

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25 “And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near.”

Hebrews 10:25, NLT

“The Greek work for church, ecclesia, is made up of a prefix and a root. The prefix is ek – out of. The root is the verb coleo, to call. The church in the New Testament is made up of those who are called out from the world, from darkness, from damnation, from paganism, to become members of the body of Christ.”

   ~R.C. Sproul

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Melancholy Beckons Me

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Objectively speaking, my life is pretty good, for the most part. I have a good job, been married 25 years, have a wonderful creative son, a terrific church home and family, blood family that I love, a cute loveable dog, a nice house, plenty to eat — I could go on and on about the blessings in my life, and I do try to focus on the greatest blessing of all, my dear Jesus.

And yet melancholy beckons me. It bids me turn my gaze from the Lord and my blessings, and instead focus on the one thing that is not as I would like it to be.

I feel a bit like Peter must have felt when he looked down at the crashing waves instead of at Jesus. Yes, there was a storm all about Peter, but he was standing safely above it as long as he kept his eyes on Jesus. Looking at the scene with the benefit of hindsight, I know that Jesus eventually calmed Peter’s storm. It was only when Peter looked away that he began to sink into the deep.

I know, too, that He will calm my storm. As the tempest rages and melancholy beckons, I know it is essential to keep my eyes on my Savior lest I sink into the deep. I know that I must trust in Jesus, and trust I do.

Still trust is so hard when tears well up behind sad eyes, when nothing changes and the storm continues to howl all around me. But in fact, upon closer examination, something has changed, and that is the tempest within. It is me He has changed as He strengthens my faith. He has changed violent anger and indignation to sadness and compassion, to melancholy.

Standing in the wings is indifference, worse even than melancholy, because indifference means giving up hope. It clings to pride and indignation, not wanting to let go. Indifference means a deliberate decision to not care about another, only self. But the change my Lord has wrought in my heart bids me stay clear of indifference. Melancholy is at least useful for self-examination and for reminding me of how desperately I need Jesus.

The Psalms are wonderful for times like this. Just this morning as I began my prayer time, I read Psalm 28 and came to these words of encouragement:

Blessed be the Lord,
Because He has heard the voice of my supplications!
The Lord is my strength and my shield;
My heart trusted in Him, and I am helped;
Therefore my heart greatly rejoices,
And with my song I will praise Him.
Psalm 28:6-7 (NKJV).

Melancholy beckons me, but though I succumb for a while I remember that my Redeemer will never leave me. Though my mind reflects with melancholy on what I pray He will change, my heart rejoices that He is faithful to keep His promises.

 

Coincidence: When God Hides

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“‘O Sovereign Lord, you have only begun to show your greatness and the strength of your hand to me, your servant. Is there any god in heaven or on earth who can perform such great and mighty deeds as you do?”‘

Deuteronomy 3:24, NLT

I knew God had a sense of humor when I hesitantly answered the ringing K-Mart payphone, only to hear my best friend, who had misdialed my home phone number, on the other end.

When God really does speak, He will often use circumstance to align His grace and power to you. Seldom are we untouched by this work, but the act of our personal reflection turns it into gold.

Once I prayed for my young son who had a blazing fever. Five minutes later, I laid hands on him. He was completely cool; his fever had completely broken. He was well.

I think God can do these things, and more. This is really His control over circumstances, and events that we see as firmly set, and concretely beyond our own actions. But He moves miraculously intervenes. There comes a moment when all the cosmic tumblers fall into place, and the key can be turned; the door is opened.

Walking with friends from Alaska, we wormed our way down Telegraph Ave. in Berkeley. The streets and sidewalks were jammed, and our little village in Alaska was like on a different planet. Suddenly, my friend turned around to see his captain, the owner of his fishing boat come out a door of a coffee house and into the throng. Monte yelped and turned to meet his boss. They meet 5000 miles from home in one implausible moment.

These things seem a strange and supernatural “sequences of events.” But the Bible clearly teaches that one attribute of His nature is that of omnipotence. Another attribute is that of sovereignty. Together they teach us that God is fully in control and can do all things. He is so much more, but He is solidly in charge of His universe. And our lives.

 “How great you are, O Sovereign Lord! There is no one like you. We have never even heard of another God like you!;”

2 Samuel 7:22

“O Sovereign Lord, the strong one who rescued me,
    you protected me on the day of battle.”

Psalm 140:7

Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.

Albert Einstein

Two O’ Clock in the Morning Poetry, #6


Max Ehrmann (1872-1945)
Max Ehrmann
(1872-1945)

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble, it’s a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the shamgrass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

–Desiderata, Max Ehrmann 1927 
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Max Ehrmann (September 26, 1872 – September 9, 1945) was an American writerpoet, and attorney from Terre Haute, Indiana, widely known for his 1927 prose poem “Desiderata(Latin: “things desired”). He often wrote on spiritual themes.

Ehrmann was awarded Doctor of Letters honorary degree from DePauw University in about 1937.[6] He was also elected to the Delta Tau Delta Distinguished Service Chapter, the fraternity’s highest alumni award.[3]

Max_Ehrmann_statueEhrmann died in 1945. He is buried in Highland Lawn Cemetery in Terre Haute, Indiana. In 2010 the city honored Ehrmann with a life-size bronze statue by sculptor Bill Wolfe. He is depicted sitting on a downtown bench, pen in hand, with a notebook in his lap. “Desiderata” is engraved on a plaque that resides next to the statue and lines from the poem are embedded in the walkway. The sculpture is in the collection of Art Spaces, Inc. – Wabash Valley Outdoor Sculpture Collection.[7]

Ehrmann returned to his hometown of Terre Haute, Indiana in 1898 to practice law. He was a deputy state’s attorney in Vigo County, Indiana for two years. Subsequently, he worked in his family’s meatpacking business and in the overalls manufacturing industry. At age 40, Ehrmann left the business to write. At age 54, he wrote Desiderata, which achieved fame only after his death. –from Wikipedia
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