“I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me.”
John 10:14
Who can understand this tremendous scriptural truth? To be shepherded by him is the ultimate evidence that we are truly loved. To say that he cares for me is a mystery and an astonishment.
Good Shepherd, be patient And I know you will There is much confusion And honestly, there is no peace.Bear me up, hold me close.
I’m your wandering lamb And an obstinate sheep. Good Shepherd, be patient.
There are intricacies in my heart, Which never cease to surprise me As I twist myself to the light.
Good Shepherd, be patient, Encountering a resistance, a well That bubbles up within. Ashamed, and yet brazen.
Good Shepherd, be patient with me An immense glory is waiting, Given freely by one who knows (me)
Golden is Your name, secure and safe. Good Shepherd, you are patient.
Let Him shepherd you. Jesus earnestly wishes that you embrace his care, he stays available 24/7, 365 days a year. When things get really hard, he will come and carry you to green pastures. Those pastures are in His heart, and He is thrilled to show you them. This would be a good time to ask others to pray for you.
I am not a Christian because my faith “works” for me. Talk to a devout Mormon, Muslim, or Buddhist and he’ll extol the here-and-now benefits of his faith. He’ll cite a serenity of spirit, or a sense of order that believing brings to his life. Yet his belief system contradicts mine, so logically these various faiths cannot all be true!
If I were a Christian just because faith has utility for me, because my days are more likely to unfold in a smooth, trouble-free manner, I’d be a pragmatist, pure and simple. And I’d be prone to shuck my commitment to Christ the moment a different philosophy or religion appeared to offer me more.
Don’t get me wrong. Following Christ is not without rewards in the present. My faith often sustains me, provides perspective for decision-making, and injects happiness rooted in a biblical worldview.
But not all the time.
There’s the inevitable warfare with the world, the flesh, and the devil to contend with. And in my case, either chronic depression or other weaknesses of temperament sometime get the best of me. I’ll keep praying for relief and I’ll strive for sound mental health, yet I don’t want to be among the growing number of Christians who expect God to give them on earth what He only promised for heaven.
From a theological perspective, I’m a Christian because God chose me and initiated a relationship with me (Eph. 2:1-10). From a human perspective, my faith is in Christ not because it works, but because I believe Christianity is true. And truth is objective reality, not a subjective experience. No matter how I feel, or how my day goes, truth doesn’t change. Truth just is. I wrote this poem to convey this point.
Nature of Truth
When all hope yields to despair
and I doubt that God is there;
when my heart is cold, unfeeling,
and my prayers bounce off the ceiling;
when depression takes its toll
and winter winds assault my soul;
when the race seems all uphill
and dying grows in its appeal;
when things don’t go as expected—
still, God’s Truth is unaffected.
In the long run, faith works in the sense that I’ll enjoy eternity with my Savior (thanks to His works, not mine). But being a Christian doesn’t shield me from affliction in the here and now. It does assure me of God’s compassion and healing presence: “He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds” (Ps. 147:3).
Love, Terry
Terry teaches in the areas of Church Ministry and Ministry Leadership at Columbia International University in South Carolina. He has served as a Christian Education staff member for three churches, and he’s a licensed preacher in the Presbyterian Church of America. His current books in print are Serve Strong: Biblical Encouragement to Sustain God’s Servants, and Now That’s Good AQuestion! How To Lead Quality Bible Discussions. Terry has been married for 46 years, and has two sons, a daughter-in-law, one grandson, and a dachshund. His constant prayer is, “Lord, make me half the man my dog thinks I am!”
Check out his blog at https://penetratingthedarkness.com/. His ministry is focused on Christians experiencing clinical depression and other mental issues.
“The good physician treats the disease; the great physician treats the patient who has the disease.”
– Sir William Osler, 1849-1919
I wrote this poem the other day for ‘Thankful Thursday’ on my own blog. Knowing that many who visit Broken Believers struggle with illness and pain, I thought this would be good to share here as well.
There are plenty of cracked clay pots that find this place, and God’s in the business of putting the pieces back together. It’s His special supernatural work, and only He can do it properly.
He loves helplessness. He cures the sick. It’s what He’s been called to do.
“And when Jesus heard it, he said to them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.”
Mark 2:17
Our Great Physician
Illness comes to everyone – pain, fever, fatigue, and tears Chronic or acute, it’s such a trial – these clay pots we inhabit are so incredibly fragile even in the hands of the Potter
But our Great Physician provides strength, comfort – Sometimes He brings doctors, nurses, and medication – Wisdom and talents used to do His will, to heal, to mend
Sometimes all it takes is to touch the hem of His robe – Like the woman who bled for twelve long years, outcast one moment, then healed completely and wholly
The greatest good – spiritual health and salvation for the least of us, for all – each clay pot is used to help others as grace leaks out of cracks – Cracks that never seem to heal
Sometimes what the Physician has in store is our ultimate healing – A new body, new life eternal in a place of no more pain, no tears, energy galore – as death brings everyone home
“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”
I’ve been thinking a lot about tears lately—in part because Pastor Bryan pointed out to me how many hits my post titled God Keeps Your Tears in a Bottle has had, in part because I’ve cried more than a few tears this year, and in part because I’ve been listening to Johnny Cash’s Cry, Cry, Cry in my car all week—and I thought I’d share my thoughts with you all here.
First of all, people cry for a lot of reasons.
Earlier this year my sister died of breast cancer at only 61 years old. I cried, a lot. It’s normal and even helpful to shed tears over the death of a loved one even if we know where they are going when they die, because it allows us to express the grief we feel over not having them in our lives any more here on earth.
I remember a time I had a previous boss say some very cruel things to me in front of other people. She accused me of having done things I had not based on motives I did not have. I was very angry, hurt, and frustrated. And I cried, a lot. I didn’t cry in front of her, mind you, but afterwards I did. And it was good to express that anger to others.
I’ve cried tears of loss, anger, indignation with frustration, compassion, and even of joy. I sometimes cry tears of regret when I hear a song about the sacrifice of Jesus, knowing it is my sin that made him suffer.
Just yesterday I experienced unexpected tears.
I was reciting the prayers of the people in church, which I’ve done many times. Our church has many prayer concerns for members, family, and friends with health concerns and more. Towards the end of the prayer I began to lift up prayers for a church member’s brother-in-law who is a pastor back in New York because he is faced with conducting the funerals of two teens who had been killed in an accident last week.
I recently wrote this poem.
Tears
Tears of sorrow, anger drench my soul course without end eroding pain, anguish
Where once only aching occupied my heart now is a deep empty ravine carved by a river of tears
Tears of forgiveness water my soul’s riverbed allowing flowers of love to flourish and grow
Peace arises in my heart held aloft by God’s promises the fragrance of sweet alyssum blossoms of my soul
I think the saddest tears of all, though, are the tears of major clinical depression. These tears are so sad because the one who cries them doesn’t know what purpose they serve.
I remember when I was suffering from depression sitting in a chair and just crying. When someone asked me why I was crying all I could say was, “I don’t know.” And I truly didn’t. The tears didn’t wash away pain; they only seemed to make it all the worse.
In the midst of such tears, there is One who knows their purpose.
Romans 8:26 says: “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” Through prayer God can sometimes lead us to an understanding of the purpose of the tears of depression, and ultimately to healing.
That makes your tears a good thing.
“Tears are often the telescope by which men see far into heaven.“
by Terry Powell
