I sit at my desk, enjoying the sunshine that streams through my study window. I can see shrubs close by, then taller trees beyond. Today, their leaves are rippling in the wind—it feels somehow soothing to watch them and to note how their shapes are etched against the bright blue sky. It is cool outside, but I am warm and snug, as I try to find words to describe what I am seeing and feeling. I love writing about my beautiful surroundings, but I so much want to do justice to it all.
As I reflect, I realise I am feeling a twinge of what could only be called guilt. How did we end up here, after living in our little, wooden house for thirty-two years? How come that old house sold for such a good price, enabling us to afford our comfortable, spacious unit? Perhaps it’s all a dream, I think to myself. Perhaps I’ll wake up one morning and find myself back in our old home, instead of in this lovely, quiet place where the only sounds are the birds outside, twittering and singing to one another. I know there are people nearby, but we are on the edge of our Village, where our peace is largely undisturbed, unless we choose to venture out somewhere.
In the quietness, I try to slow my racing mind. God is here with me, I know—and I choose to stop, be still and settle into that warm, loving Presence all around me. Yet, for some reason, I feel unworthy at this point in time. God, why have you chosen to give us all this beauty and comfort, my heart cries out. What have we done to deserve so much material blessing? Could it be … maybe you meant it for someone else, God? Has it all been a big mistake?
Then I sense God’s loving arms around me and feel the Spirit’s warmth and fullness flooding my being. I open my Bible, but even before I do, I seem to hear God’s gentle, reassuring voice: This is no mistake, Jo-Anne. This is just a picture in the natural of the grace I have poured out on you in the spiritual. As you look around and enjoy what you have received, know it is my delight to give you a place where you can flourish and where you can serve me with a heart at peace and overflowing with my love for others. And as you do, may you be reminded of the abundance of my grace that called you to be part of my family forever—that grace beyond measure that you can never earn or buy.
I turn the pages then and read one of my favourite verses written by the Apostle John, then another from the Apostle Paul:
How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! 1 John 3:1
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God …. Ephesians 2:8
Then I sit back and relax. Yes, Lord, it is all gift. Everything we have, everything we are. Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for your amazing, overwhelming grace.
Your words have given me the comfort of the Lord’s loving-kindness. Amen
I’m so glad, Maree. I love that term ‘loving-kindness’, don’t you? God bless!
When life is suffering for a lot of the time- it’s hard to get in the spirit of one who has peace. Selfishness so easily becomes me- though I do not want it to be so.
How do we rejoice with those who rejoice- when we are weeping?
That is a significant challenge isn’t it? Yet in Numbers 14 (I think it is) God really takes exception to his people’s grumblings. We each have our seasons- and our own levels of maturity and immaturity.
I sense your humility before God- and I want to learn this same grace in my difficult circumstances.
Geoff
So sorry to hear of your difficult circumstances, Geoff. It sounds to me as if you are going through a hugely wearing period of your life–I hope you have those around who you can share your load and walk the journey with you. Even as I wrote this particular blog, I hoped and prayed it would not put off anyone who has not had these beautiful experiences we have had recently, so I love your comments about the different seasons in our lives and also the reference to rejoicing with those who rejoice. May God’s deep peace be with you and may God’s strength and healing sustain you, Geoff.