Hope is My Anchor
Strength for your soul amid life's storms June 2005
_________________________________________________________________
The great promise of Psalm 23 is not that we will be saved from the dark
valley, but that the Lord, who is our Shepherd, will remain close beside us even
though the darkness might obscure Him from our view.
—Michael Card
This June marks five years since Dave became disabled. People sometimes ask me if
I know why God is allowing Dave to be incapacitated for so long. The question leaves
me—well—stumped! It’s not that I can’t imagine what possible reasons God might
have. God’s developing our character. God’s going to use it so Dave can be a better
pastor or a better comforter. God’s going to use it to help someone else…
I believe all of those are true, and yet, without the benefit of hindsight, of seeing how
God will use it—the answers fall flat. They provide hope for a season, but then days,
weeks, months, years become long. Still we meet with a silent God. A God obscured
by dark times. What is He doing?
"I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it
remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds."
—John 12:24
In the Motherwise Bible study, Author Denise Glenn tells a story about being like that
kernal of wheat—how hopeful and precious she felt in the Maker’s hand, and then
how dark and lonely life became when she was "buried" in the ground. What was God
doing? Why was He abandoning her?
God uses many parables to help us understand. We are building blocks, being built
together into a dwelling for God, unimaginable! Built on the "Living Stone," Christ. A
costly Heavenly city with walls of precious gold. Gold that is purified by fire, formed
by pressure and time and painstaking craftsmanship. As are we.
Or, we are the branches, and God the heavenly gardener, cutting back what was
already fruitful (and we ask, "God, this doesn’t make any sense! Wasn’t I doing what
you wanted?")—so that it will be more fruitful. Pruning sounds innocuous enough until
you look at the extent to which some plants are cut back. Grapevines, for example,
are cut to stumps, and afterward look dead, lifeless—what could possibly grow from
those? And yet by mid-summer they are filled with lush, tantalizing, abundant fruit.
This has been a year of pruning for me, of darkness, quiet, and not much writing. It’s
good to be stumped—to be cut back so far as to have nothing to say, to offer, to do.
To have to lie dormant in the soil. To need to be molded by pressure and by fire.
We don’t think it’s good because we look at today, we like the finer things this world
has to offer—and we lose sight of God’s character. He’s good when we hurt. He’s
near when we can’t hear or feel him. He protects us when darkness obscures.
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass
through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the
fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze."
—Isa 43:2
Where is God in the fire? He’s there. Our imagination is so finite, our vision so
limited, it’s hard for us to comprehend until we look back and see, oh, He was there,
He brought us through, and oh, His purpose was pure and holy and God can be
glorified.
It feels like the waters sweep over us and the flames burn—and yet they burn only the
dross of this life that we are so attached to. The pure gold, the REAL US—this will
come forth, shining, beautiful, precious—worthy of being united with God—
incomprehensible!
But it’s a done deal, for Jesus, in His own dark valley, said, "It is finished." God calls
us holy, righteous, blameless in His sight—and we wonder and worry, how can this
be? Imagine, God has us mystified! Yes, imagine, that we must do, must strive to get
our minds around what the God of all time and space, of everything and nothing (for
even nothing obeyed Him and became something!), is trying to communicate to us.
And if we only comprehend a tiny fraction, and help a few others along the way, our
time is well spent.
Fall to the ground. Walk through the fire. Be stumped. And then be filled with the
rejuvenating, nourishing, incredible life of Jesus who bears fruit through ones such as
us.
What is it for? His glory. That’s the easy question! Why does He allow us to partake
in His glory? That’s a mystery for the ages—and yet again for His glory.
In Christ,
Merry Marinello
Strength for your soul amid life's storms June 2005
_________________________________________________________________
The great promise of Psalm 23 is not that we will be saved from the dark
valley, but that the Lord, who is our Shepherd, will remain close beside us even
though the darkness might obscure Him from our view.
—Michael Card
This June marks five years since Dave became disabled. People sometimes ask me if
I know why God is allowing Dave to be incapacitated for so long. The question leaves
me—well—stumped! It’s not that I can’t imagine what possible reasons God might
have. God’s developing our character. God’s going to use it so Dave can be a better
pastor or a better comforter. God’s going to use it to help someone else…
I believe all of those are true, and yet, without the benefit of hindsight, of seeing how
God will use it—the answers fall flat. They provide hope for a season, but then days,
weeks, months, years become long. Still we meet with a silent God. A God obscured
by dark times. What is He doing?
"I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it
remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds."
—John 12:24
In the Motherwise Bible study, Author Denise Glenn tells a story about being like that
kernal of wheat—how hopeful and precious she felt in the Maker’s hand, and then
how dark and lonely life became when she was "buried" in the ground. What was God
doing? Why was He abandoning her?
God uses many parables to help us understand. We are building blocks, being built
together into a dwelling for God, unimaginable! Built on the "Living Stone," Christ. A
costly Heavenly city with walls of precious gold. Gold that is purified by fire, formed
by pressure and time and painstaking craftsmanship. As are we.
Or, we are the branches, and God the heavenly gardener, cutting back what was
already fruitful (and we ask, "God, this doesn’t make any sense! Wasn’t I doing what
you wanted?")—so that it will be more fruitful. Pruning sounds innocuous enough until
you look at the extent to which some plants are cut back. Grapevines, for example,
are cut to stumps, and afterward look dead, lifeless—what could possibly grow from
those? And yet by mid-summer they are filled with lush, tantalizing, abundant fruit.
This has been a year of pruning for me, of darkness, quiet, and not much writing. It’s
good to be stumped—to be cut back so far as to have nothing to say, to offer, to do.
To have to lie dormant in the soil. To need to be molded by pressure and by fire.
We don’t think it’s good because we look at today, we like the finer things this world
has to offer—and we lose sight of God’s character. He’s good when we hurt. He’s
near when we can’t hear or feel him. He protects us when darkness obscures.
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass
through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the
fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze."
—Isa 43:2
Where is God in the fire? He’s there. Our imagination is so finite, our vision so
limited, it’s hard for us to comprehend until we look back and see, oh, He was there,
He brought us through, and oh, His purpose was pure and holy and God can be
glorified.
It feels like the waters sweep over us and the flames burn—and yet they burn only the
dross of this life that we are so attached to. The pure gold, the REAL US—this will
come forth, shining, beautiful, precious—worthy of being united with God—
incomprehensible!
But it’s a done deal, for Jesus, in His own dark valley, said, "It is finished." God calls
us holy, righteous, blameless in His sight—and we wonder and worry, how can this
be? Imagine, God has us mystified! Yes, imagine, that we must do, must strive to get
our minds around what the God of all time and space, of everything and nothing (for
even nothing obeyed Him and became something!), is trying to communicate to us.
And if we only comprehend a tiny fraction, and help a few others along the way, our
time is well spent.
Fall to the ground. Walk through the fire. Be stumped. And then be filled with the
rejuvenating, nourishing, incredible life of Jesus who bears fruit through ones such as
us.
What is it for? His glory. That’s the easy question! Why does He allow us to partake
in His glory? That’s a mystery for the ages—and yet again for His glory.
In Christ,
Merry Marinello
| Be Stumped! |
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© 2004 Dave and Merry Marinello, all rights reserved.
Welcome! Thanks for visiting our little "harbor" amid life's storms. We hope you
will find rest and encouragement in your struggles, big or small. Here you can:
will find rest and encouragement in your struggles, big or small. Here you can:
"Be Stumped!" June 2005 Newsletter
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Hope is My Anchor
Strength for your soul amid life's storms
Strength for your soul amid life's storms