I am ever trying to lay hold of reckoning it as truth that, Lord, "all things are Your servants." In today's Joy and Strength, I read this:
THOU givest within and without precisely what
the soul needs for its advancement in a life of
faith and self-renunciation. I have then only
to receive this bread and to accept, in the spirit
of self-sacrifice, whatever Thou shalt
ordain, of bitterness in my external circumstances
or within my heart. For whatever happens to me each
day is my daily bread, provided I do not
refuse to take it from Thy hand and to feed upon it.
~Francois de la Mothe Fénelon
the soul needs for its advancement in a life of
faith and self-renunciation. I have then only
to receive this bread and to accept, in the spirit
of self-sacrifice, whatever Thou shalt
ordain, of bitterness in my external circumstances
or within my heart. For whatever happens to me each
day is my daily bread, provided I do not
refuse to take it from Thy hand and to feed upon it.
~Francois de la Mothe Fénelon
Trust. Obey. Pray. Suffer. Endure. Worship. Praise. Rejoice.
We bought a horse last summer. The owner kept selling her strong points as a brood mare. We wanted a horse that Jylle could ride comfortably. We were so dumb. We bought her without riding her, hauled her home, and unloaded her in the paddock. Jylle hopped on, and we led them around in a large circle. It was Kev who gave voice to what I could not believe I'd noticed and promptly shoved to the back of my mind, "Is she limping?" After walking her around about five more times, we concluded that she indeed was limping. We felt physically ill.
We prayed. After an hour of deliberating, wondering if we had any leg to stand on, Kev finally called the sellers to talk about returning her. Only two minutes into the call, it was no deal. We prayed, accepting whatever happened. One minute later, the guy called to say he'd take her back.
Promptly upon arriving, both mom and pop laid into us. You know who's losing here, don'tcha? What'd you do to her? What'd you do? How'd you mistreat her? Did you run her into a fence? Run her blind? What'd you do to her?
Kevin went with pop to put her back into the pasture. Mom stayed behind and continued the diatribe. It was excruciating. I took it for a bit, but eventually burst into tears and cried out useless defenses: We didn't do anything to her! We put our daughter on her and led her around! We love our animals; we would never do anything to hurt them! She could not hear me. She spewed the entire time and gave me no ear. It was awful. It was only when she finally spit, "Shut up, you stupid woman!" that I turned around and got into the truck. I locked the door and sobbed. I was reduced to a fetal state inside and couldn't do anything more than pray Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus...
On our way home, Kev carefully tried to determine why I was crying. He never heard what the not-very-nice lady said to me and was shocked. I prayed fervently, desperately all the way home. Lord, let me forgive her. I take of Your forgiveness for her. Bless her. Pour Your blessing out on her, and let me forgive her.
By the time we got home, not only had I forgiven her, but I was thanking Him for her, for being the catalyst to launch me straight into His bosom. I pictured her vicious face and felt nothing but gratitude and love. Absolutely incredible and other-worldly. I drive by their place about every other week now on business, and I remember. Then I pray for her again.
If I had refused the "bread" that day as from His hand and failed to feed on it, I would have completely missed this divine experience that has since served as an altar of remembrance. Lest I sound smug and self-assured, I add that this was one isolated event, a gift to recall so I might remember it is possible to thank Him for the thing I would call bad. I refuse bread all the time because I don't believe it is bread... It's a wart or foul milk or a gouge or some other ill thing, but it isn't bread...
Know. That is the business of the day. Every day in my quiet time I see these words and others close to it, "Then you will know, understand, and realize that I am the Lord." Know, understand, realize, reckon. Alive to God.
We bought a horse last summer. The owner kept selling her strong points as a brood mare. We wanted a horse that Jylle could ride comfortably. We were so dumb. We bought her without riding her, hauled her home, and unloaded her in the paddock. Jylle hopped on, and we led them around in a large circle. It was Kev who gave voice to what I could not believe I'd noticed and promptly shoved to the back of my mind, "Is she limping?" After walking her around about five more times, we concluded that she indeed was limping. We felt physically ill.
We prayed. After an hour of deliberating, wondering if we had any leg to stand on, Kev finally called the sellers to talk about returning her. Only two minutes into the call, it was no deal. We prayed, accepting whatever happened. One minute later, the guy called to say he'd take her back.
Promptly upon arriving, both mom and pop laid into us. You know who's losing here, don'tcha? What'd you do to her? What'd you do? How'd you mistreat her? Did you run her into a fence? Run her blind? What'd you do to her?
Kevin went with pop to put her back into the pasture. Mom stayed behind and continued the diatribe. It was excruciating. I took it for a bit, but eventually burst into tears and cried out useless defenses: We didn't do anything to her! We put our daughter on her and led her around! We love our animals; we would never do anything to hurt them! She could not hear me. She spewed the entire time and gave me no ear. It was awful. It was only when she finally spit, "Shut up, you stupid woman!" that I turned around and got into the truck. I locked the door and sobbed. I was reduced to a fetal state inside and couldn't do anything more than pray Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus...
On our way home, Kev carefully tried to determine why I was crying. He never heard what the not-very-nice lady said to me and was shocked. I prayed fervently, desperately all the way home. Lord, let me forgive her. I take of Your forgiveness for her. Bless her. Pour Your blessing out on her, and let me forgive her.
By the time we got home, not only had I forgiven her, but I was thanking Him for her, for being the catalyst to launch me straight into His bosom. I pictured her vicious face and felt nothing but gratitude and love. Absolutely incredible and other-worldly. I drive by their place about every other week now on business, and I remember. Then I pray for her again.
If I had refused the "bread" that day as from His hand and failed to feed on it, I would have completely missed this divine experience that has since served as an altar of remembrance. Lest I sound smug and self-assured, I add that this was one isolated event, a gift to recall so I might remember it is possible to thank Him for the thing I would call bad. I refuse bread all the time because I don't believe it is bread... It's a wart or foul milk or a gouge or some other ill thing, but it isn't bread...
Know. That is the business of the day. Every day in my quiet time I see these words and others close to it, "Then you will know, understand, and realize that I am the Lord." Know, understand, realize, reckon. Alive to God.
1 comment:
Wow! You go girl! That is a true testimony of the Spirit of God working in you and through you.
Thank you for sharing! I am so blessed by you! God has, indeed, gifted you with the ability to communicate very effectively.
May we all be so quick to surrender our fleshly "rights" and surrender to our Jesus who is so quick to forgive and love (even the hardest to love).
Bless you friend!
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