The root system of the visible now

[Eugene] Peterson’s various insights into the vocational benefits of reading are nowhere more compelling than in the places where he writes about pastoral caregiving. In Run with the Horses, one of Peterson’s earliest books, he writes, “Lives cannot be read as newspaper reports on current events; they are unabridged novels with character and plot development, each paragraph essential for mature appreciation.”

I have long been struck by his words “mature appreciation.” It’s as if Peterson is saying that, as pastors, to interpret human beings on the basis of the words they are currently speaking, or the problems they are currently presenting, is not only to provide an attenuated sort of pastoral care but also to telegraph a certain form of immaturity, one rooted in a fear of complexity and a need to offer quick resolutions—much as it would be to read about a lavish party at Jay Gatsby’s house and, knowing nothing of Gatsby’s humble origins, hastily conclude that he throws such parties simply to put on airs. It would be to completely miss the point. “The before,” Peterson writes, “is the root system of the visible now.”

"The Pastor's Bookshelf: Why Reading Matters for Ministry" by Austin Carty.

Going heavily when we might rejoice

Unacquaintedness with our mercies, our privileges, is our sin as well as our trouble. We hearken not to the voice of the Spirit which is given unto us, “that we may know the things that are freely bestowed on us of God” (1 Cor. 2:12). This makes us go heavily, when we might rejoice; and to be weak, where we might be strong in the Lord.

John Owen, Communion with the Triune God, p. 123

When faith cannot be expressed

Someone asked me,

If Jesus couldn't do many miracles in Nazareth, but he raises the widow's son without any active faith, then what's the difference between unbelief and whatever is happening in Nain?

It's a good question. My thoughts in response were:

Hmm, isn't that just wonderful? He acts when there cannot be explicit faith, either because evil has taken over (the Gadarene man) or when the chaos of grief has smothered the soul into lifelessness. In Nazareth, and everywhere that explicit faith ought to be capable of being expressed, there is an expectation of it, a call for it. But not when we are beyond our capability to believe or to ask - he is, as Paul says in Rom 4:17 "the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not."

To suffer is to act

Referring to the character Dilsey in William Faulkner's novel, The Sound and the Fury, Marilyn McEntyre comments:

As a white man, Faulkner had, as he acknowledged, limited access to the suffering of an old black female servant. But he gives us her tears. As she listens to the Rev. Shegog’s sermon, claiming the power of the blood of the Lamb, what she has suffered emerges in the safe space of a worshiping community where she can lay her burden down. As readers, we become aware that we are almost intruders upon the intimacies of her pain, which, though public, is as utterly personal as the wracked and worn body that sags beneath the purple Easter dress in which she appears, iconic and, Faulkner would say, indomitable. Dilsey’s weeping “signifies,” in the antique sense of bringing forth meaning in the story she inhabits. For her to suffer is to act, and her suffering is the only redemptive action in this whole bleak tale of spiritual squalor.

Where the Eye Alights p.71

Quotes from The Flourishing Pastor

I recently read The Flourishing Pastor by Tom Nelson - it was really helpful; here are some quotations that struck chords with me:

Sheep are not the only ones who get lost, shepherds do as well. Shepherds and the sheep suffer for it.

Lurking behind a smiling stage presence is an inordinate narcissistic love of self at the expense of love for God and others. Instead of living before an audience of One, the celebrity pastor lives before an audience of many...The crowd need not be big nor the stage prominent for the celebrity pastor to emerge.  

At soul level, preaching puts the pastor in a very vulnerable space where our sense of self-worth can become closely connected to the affirmation or criticism of our Sunday listeners.

We are saying that it is easy for pastors, fearing what people might think, to become isolated from others. By so doing, they fail to grow spiritually. As one pastor put it, “I have a longing to be shepherded by someone else, but a fear to actually ask someone into my life.” Again the themes weave together: isolation is bad self-care and poor leadership as well. (Quoting Burns, Chapman and Guthrie)

Like many callings, the pastoral calling is hard to navigate, and the road ahead often seems murky and unclear. Every day is a new day. Every situation and context is unique. Every morning we get out of bed, we are above our pay grade. In every new role and phase of life we are rookies. The inconvenient truth is this: it is all too easy and common for pastors to lose their way.

If people are not your thing, then pastoring should not be your thing. ¹⁰ It is not about whether we are more of an extrovert or an introvert; it is about how widely and deeply we love the people entrusted to our care.

As pastors we are entrusted to protect, provide, guide, and nourish what God cherishes and values most. Pastors must never forget that the sheep belong to God and that we are accountable for leading them well.

David’s story reminds us that shepherding leaders are forged on the anvil of obscurity and refined in the crucible of visibility.

A great peril awaits pastors when the light shining on them is far brighter than the light shining from within them.

Shepherding leadership flows from an ever-increasing, integral inner world moving outward to an integrated life. The shepherd leader lives, loves, and leads out of the overflow of an integral life, a wholeness of soul.

The shepherding leader must embrace a teachable attitude; a growing curiosity; and an eagerness to learn, unlearn, and relearn the increasing competency their calling requires, which means spending time and money to stay up to date.

The painful irony is that we speak to others about cultivating intimacy with God while we neglect our own intimacy with God ... Resilient and flourishing leadership over the long haul demands one thing above all other things, growing in intimacy with the greatest lover of our soul

Less so than the challenging circumstances around us, the churnings within us prove most dangerous to pastoral leadership.

While pastors can and do experience dramatic moral meltdowns, over the years I have come to the conclusion that a more common peril and ever-present threat are the slow burnouts and insidious corrosion that occur slowly at soul level ... Ministry idealism is shattered, and lurking in the dark shadows of the soul is a quiet desperation, a dulling disillusionment, and a corrosive cynicism.

While we need to take steps to avoid pastoral isolation and pursue peer friendships, most important is to cultivate intimacy with the shepherd who is always with us and is always attentive to us.

Even if we have a good deal of pastoral experience, in many ways each year we lead feels like a rookie season.

We must nurture the necessary spiritual receptivity that makes possible leading a congregation with humility and confidence.

The authenticity and effectiveness of our pastoral calling over the long and arduous terrain of local church leadership will require not only faithful service but also experiential, recognizable spiritual formation in our lives.

Is it any wonder why so many of our sermons lack authenticating spiritual unction, when our lives reflect such spiritual impoverishment?

Integrity is first and foremost something we are at the core of our being and not merely ways we externally conform our behavior to an ethical standard lived out in our daily lives. Integrity is not sin management.

human integrity is more than a nice-looking external ethical veneer. Integrity goes to the core of a flourishing person whose entire life from inside to outside, from top to bottom, is remarkably whole, consistent, and coherent.

Out of a life of intimacy with God, an integral life is formed and emerges. In a pastoral leader, intimacy with God comes before integrity of heart.

“The most holy and necessary practice in our spiritual life is the presence of God. That means finding constant pleasure in his divine company, speaking humbly and lovingly with Him in all seasons, at every moment, without limiting the conversation in any way.” (Quoting Brother Lawrence)

Even though my brain was crammed full of Bible information and knowledge, I painfully had to confront a big disconnect between my mind and my heart. I began to realize that I had placed a primacy on the pursuit of ideas about Jesus at the expense of intimacy with Christ. And this became my real, troubling, soul-level crisis. The shame I was carrying around, the insecurities and past struggles of my life, had led to my fearful reluctance of being truly honest with God.

We can and must model transparency, pursuing whole-life discipleship and all-of-life integration in the context of our faith community. The greatest sermon we ever preach is the integral life we live before God and those around us.

So many pastors are spiritually malformed and lose their way because from the very start of pastoral ministry, their life and leadership compass setting is off true north.

A pastor’s lack of spiritual formation and anemic leadership are not in most cases a paucity of Bible information or superficial doctrinal reflection, but rather a lack of whole-life submission to Jesus.

Your own soul care is of the highest importance, for you live and lead out of the overflow of your soul.

As pastoral leaders we must look to Jesus the Great Physician, who can truly bring healing to the deepest depths of our very being. We don’t have to hide our wounds or hold up a good-looking image or fake integrity. Our wounds can be healed, and we can truly find and experience an increasingly integral life.

 As leaders, we must acknowledge and embrace our wounds if we are ever to be able to shepherd effectively. It is only through the experience of our own healing through the power of Christ that we can offer that same hope to those we lead. As those who have been healed by Jesus, we can pick up the mantle of our shepherding calling and become wounded healers.

Looking back in time, I now believe more pastors melt down in their personal lives, marriages, and leadership effectiveness due to a perennial lack of self-care than those who do from anything else.

While affirming the importance of preserving religious liberty for all as a high priority, Luke Goodrich rightly reminds us as apprentices of Jesus, “We’re called not to ‘win’ but be like Christ.” Rather than assume a cultural warrior posture, we can evidence a kingdom posture.

Shepherding in exile will mean adopting a cultural posture not of monastic retreat, cozy cultural accommodation, or a cultural warrior mentality, but one of faithful presence.

The leadership legacies of kings like Solomon, Asa, and Uzziah are sobering reminders that finishing well is not easy. Like these leaders of old, we too can be tripped up along the way—especially in the latter years of our lives—by disordered loves, divided loyalties, unwillingness to heed advice, and personal pride.

Passion and Serenity v. Indifference and Fanaticism

The word pair passion and serenity establishes an essential contradiction for our inner lives.

Imagine a person who pursues his convictions with great passion. He recognises his calling in them. He dedicates himself to whatever his calling demands with tireless devotion. The tasks that come with this calling touch and move him; they uncover a creative restlessness in him. He puts his time and thoughts, his gifts and strengths into this pursuit. For him, this commitment is living faith. He well recognizes King David's words to his son Solomon about building the great temple in Jerusalem: "Now begin the work, and the Lord be with you" (1 Chronicles 22:16).

On the other side we see the person with great serenity. He also has convictions and recognises his calling. He does not have a heart that fights, but one that waits expectantly. There is a faithful peace in him, for he knows that the essential things in life cannot be produced but rather received. His heart understands the expectant gaze toward heaven. He knows what it means to wait. Even in troubles and need he seeks to be quiet before God. How many times has he found that the important things come about without him struggling! He recognises the solace of his calling. He has experienced that "the Lord will fight for you, and you have only to keep still" (Exodus 14:14).

............

Indifferent people risk nothing. They never venture something important or valuable. They would never come up with the idea of investing in something beyond the state of their own interests. They are content with everything as long as it does not affect them. They regard themselves above all else. They are prisoners to themselves.

Fanatics risk everything and everyone. They wear themselves out over matters and are never satisfied. They are possessed by an idea and blind to anything and everyone that are not part of it. They see the injustices that, in their eyes, should be rectified, and believe that everything depends on their own efforts. They, too, only regard themselves in the end. They, too, are their own prisoners.

Fanaticism and indifference create a word pair of their own. But they are the fallen reflection of passion and serenity. Each exaggerates itself. That is the essence of fallen opposites. Opposites that do not preserve unity signify alienation. Harmonious opposites are different: they are oriented toward each other. Their relationship invariably consists of giving esteem and honour to the Non-Me. Their essence is consistent with the order of love.

Martin Schleske, The Sound of Unspeakable Beauty, p.52f

Some favourite reads and listens 2021

In no particular order (as they say), here are some books/listens I've really enjoyed through this year:

Thy Will Be Done: The Ten Commandments and the Christian Life by Gilbert Meilaender - wonderful, wonderful book.

Hope in Times of Fear: The Resurrection and the Meaning of Easter by Tim Keller

(also by Tim Keller, this trio of short books on birth, marriage and death)

Favourite re-read would be CS Lewis' Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer

I know I'm late to the party on this one but Neil Postman's Amusing Ourselves to Death remains a perennial recommendation on all sorts of lists, so why not on here too?

Esau McCaulley's Reading While Black: African American Biblical Interpretation as an Exercise in Hope came so highly praised and reading it I can see why.

Among the authors who reached the end of their earthly pilgrimage this year was Walter Wangerin Jr. Another late-in-the-day acquaintance, The Book of the Dun Cow is now a firm favourite.

Uprooted: Recovering the Legacy of the Places We've Left Behind by Grace Olmstead was a calming morning listen, read impeccably by the author.

Tish Harrison Warren followed up her very enjoyable Liturgy of the Ordinary with a great read, Prayer in the Night: For Those Who Work or Watch or Weep. I listened to the audiobook of this one, too, and it was terrific. Won't be to everyone's taste but I loved it.

I thoroughly enjoyed Joe Rigney's Strangely Bright: Can You Love God and Enjoy This World? And his work on CS Lewis is another great read.

Reading a signed copy of Kazuo Ishiguro's Klara and the Sun was always going to be a delight and it more than delivered the goods.

Andrew Cotter's Olive, Mabel and Me makes it onto the list because I finished reading it on New Year's Day - and because it's such a hilarious read.

As a ministry read, Stefan Paas' Pilgrims and Priests: Christian Mission in a Post-Christian Society was incredibly stimulating.

An end of year list wouldn't be complete without some Wendell Berry - so take your pick from his novels, Jayber Crow and The Memory of Old Jack or a collection of his poetry, The Peace of Wild Things. I'm already looking forward to reading some Berry in 2022.

Lastly, Spotify let me know that Kate Bush's song, And Dream Of Sheep, was my most-played-track this year. I can't argue with them; it defined my summer listening. As an album of the year, whatever the stats might show, I'll opt for the latest from Sara Groves, What Makes It Through. Something of a scalpel for the soul, it's a reflection on events of the last several years - here's her own take on the album:

In Kazuo Ishiguro’s book The Buried Giant, a husband and wife are waking up to their own histories - the ways they have been wounded, and the ways they have hurt the other. The story inspired me to explore the role our memories play in forgiveness and reconciliation. What do we remember, what do we forget, and what do we memorialize? How can we move toward each other when we have different versions of what happened? We are imperfect witnesses to our own lives and histories, and in the end, it is really difficult to tell ourselves the truth.

On God answering our prayers

Proper prayers flow from faithful, obedient hearts bringing to God real needs that we beg him to meet. His answer may be “Yes, here and now, as requested,” or “Yes, but in a better way than you asked,” or “Yes, but you must wait—I will take the right action at the right time, which is not yet.”

God, the perfect Father, loves to give good gifts to his children but reserves the right to give only the best, and only in the best way. What he gives, therefore, is not always what the praying believer had in mind.

JI Packer, Pointing to the Pasturelands, p.303

A little bit of Bible sleuthing...

So in Genesis 33:4, Esau behaves in a way that is echoed by the Father in Luke 15, in their response to the returning (wayward) son - Gen 33 it's Jacob coming home, Luke 15 it's the younger brother, the prodigal.

The connection in the LXX (the greek translation of the Old Testament) to the greek in Luke 15 is quite marked - both contain this exact phrase: ἐπὶ τὸν τράχηλον αὐτοῦ καὶ κατεφίλησεν αὐτὸν.

So the Pharisees (the elder brother in the parable) refuse to do what Esau did (and what the father in the parable does) in welcoming the returning repentant one home. The Pharisees despised Esau and his descendants (the Edomites) yet Esau's actions were more in line with those of Jesus than theirs were.

It's the 2nd time in Luke a despised outsider has acted more righteously than the in-crowd (the Samaritan in Lk. 10). And Jacob then tells Esau that his face is like the face of God - the face of one who welcomes in mercy. 

Music and Song in the Bible

 Mark Futato:

One thing is clear when you look at God’s revelation, from Genesis to Revelation, that whenever really big things happen in the history of redemption, there’s music, there’s poetry - for example, when the Man meets the Woman for the first time in the Garden of Eden we have the first poem; at the time of the Exodus we have poetry; during the height of King David’s reign we have poetry; when Christ comes we have poetry; at the end of the Book of Revelation we have poetry, we have music. And I think part of the reason for this is that God not only wants to engage our minds and our wills but he wants to capture our emotions as well - and music and poetry have a way of capturing the heart, they have a way of capturing the mind, they capture the will, they capture the emotions, they capture the intellect. And so I believe that God has put a lot of his revelation, for example the whole book of Psalms, in musical poetic form because it captures the whole person.

Dr. Mark Futato

Forgetting Jesus Christ

The command to 'remember Jesus Christ' at first sight seems extraordinary. How could Timothy ever forget him? Yet the human memory is notoriously fickle: it is possible to forget even one's own name! The epitaph over Israel's grave was 'they soon forgot', and it was to overcome our forgetfulness of Christ crucified that he deliberately instituted his supper as a feast of remembrance, a fragrant 'forget-me-not'. Even so the church has often forgotten Jesus Christ, absorbing itself instead now in barren theological debate, now in purely humanitarian activity, now in its own petty, parochial business.

John Stott, Guard the Gospel, p.61

My memory

My memory

isn't

what it used to

be,

suffering the fraying

of edges made

ragged

by the wastage

and

shredding of

time's unkempt

false positives.

But, in truth,

even though I have

loved the easy

familiarity

of proper recall,

the promise of the

day when all that is

good shall be restored

beyond its birthed

capacity and all

that is bad

shall be

transfigured

by

wisdom

and a

cross,

is all that truly needs

to remain.

The Success of the Early Church

Reflecting on the growth of the early church, Gerald Sittser offers some thoughts to explain its success:

Christians had to guard the newness of the message without isolating themselves from the culture or accommodating themselves to the culture, which required them to form people in the faith and thus grow a movement of genuine disciples who could survive, and even thrive, in such a world. Rome would have ignored Christianity if Christians had been too isolated; it would have absorbed it if they had become too accommodating. For the most part it did neither.

Resilient Faith - Gerald L Sittser - Brazos Press, p.6

Augustine and A Well-Read Life

Augustine’s Confessions bears rereading because its story is the human story, a story that—with time and contemplation—I can also make my own. Like the prodigal’s tale, it shows me how I can return home. Like the Psalms it echoes, it gives me laments with which to confess my sin and praises to sing the faithfulness of God. And like the gospel it embodies, it teaches us all how to read and live our way into God’s great story of love.

from A Well-Read Life

Approaching God with freedom and confidence

If Ephesians 3:12 was a statement in isolation it would still be splendid, conveying such warmth and hope: that being joined to Jesus, by faith in him, people like us can come to the living God “with freedom and confidence”. The freedom of children entering our Father’s presence, knowing that we belong there and belong to him. And doing so with a proper sense of confidence - that his love and power are such none can ever ask too much. Confidence that asking for bread will not yield a stone.

You can read the whole piece over at The Waiting Country.

There is a river....

‘There is a river’ - the most powerful statement, definitive and decided. Set within a psalm that exhorts us to stillness because God reigns supreme, that offers the greatest comfort in the midst of calamity and hostility, these words lead into a place of calm and confidence.

You can read the whole piece over at The Waiting Country.

On Suffering (Jayber Crow)

Where did I get my knack for being a fool? If I could advise God, why didn’t I just advise Him (like our great preachers and politicians) to be on our side and give us victory and make sure that Jimmy Chatham had not died in vain? I had to turn around and wade out of the mire myself.

Christ did not descend from the cross except into the grave. And why not otherwise? Wouldn’t it have put fine comical expressions on the faces of the scribes and the chief priests and the soldiers if at that moment He had come down in power and glory? Why didn’t He do it? Why hasn’t He done it at any one of a thousand good times between then and now?

I knew the answer. I knew it a long time before I could admit it, for all the suffering of the world is in it. He didn’t, He hasn’t, because from the moment He did, He would be the absolute tyrant of the world and we would be His slaves. Even those who hated Him and hated one another and hated their own souls would have to believe in Him then. From that moment the possibility that we might be bound to Him and He to us and us to one another by love forever would be ended.

And so, I thought, He must forebear to reveal His power and glory by presenting Himself as Himself, and must be present only in the ordinary miracle of the existence of His creatures. Those who wish to see Him must see Him in the poor, the hungry, the hurt, the wordless creatures, the groaning and travailing beautiful world.

I would sometimes be horrified in every moment I was alone. I could see no escape. We are too tightly tangled together to be able to separate ourselves from one another either by good or by evil. We all are involved in all and any good, and in all and any evil. For any sin, we all suffer. That is why our suffering is endless. It is why God grieves and Christ’s wounds still are bleeding.

But the mercy of the world is time. Time does not stop for love, but it does not stop for death and grief, either. After death and grief that (it seems) ought to have stopped the world, the world goes on. More things happen. And some of the things that happen are good. My life was changing now. It had to change. I am not going to say that it changed for the better. There was good in it as it was. But also there was good in it as it was going to be.

(Jayber Crow, Wendell Berry, pp. 311-312)

Other boats

New post over at the waiting country on Substack...

"There were other boats with him."

Don't be like the mule

Psalm 32 is justly famous, both within the Bible and in the lives of Christians, for its plain and powerful statements about the blessings of forgiveness and the LORD’s amazing willingness to not count our sins against us. For those who confess their sins and put their trust in God’s provision for mercy - his own Son - the outcome is bold and stark:

And you forgave the guilt of my sin. (verse 5)

No closure could be more blessed nor more secure. The guilt of our sins taken away, no longer counted against us.

You’d think we would all simply bow our heads in worship and live continually in the freedom of such favour, taking the greatest pains not to be careless or capitulate to sin. But there is a recognition here that we are far from straightforward people, that the twisted nature of our hearts will take much unravelling. Thus, the psalm pleads with us:

Do not be like the horse or the mule,

which have no understanding

but must be controlled by bit and bridle

or they will not come to you. (verse 9)

It appears that there is a tendency in each of us to deny the depths of the issues we face, that our tendency to wander is more than a passing phase. Horses and mules are well-known for their potential to be obstinate (some, not all) but they aren’t the only creatures known to be so. People like us fall into the same category.

In her poem, Six Recognitions of the Lord, Mary Oliver bears eloquent witness to the shock of discovering the obstinacy of remaining sin:

…When I first found you I was

filled with light, now the darkness grows

and it is filled with crooked things, bitter

and weak, each one bearing my name.

The Christian life demands that we slow down our responses and become willing to learn. The Lord’s love for us is such that he will not allow us simply to career off into territory that is dangerous and harmful, both to ourselves and others. If need be, he will act to restrain us, to use bit and bridle, tides and time, turning us away from judgement and disaster. It won’t be pretty - we may well find our strength sapped as in the heat of summer (verse 4) - but it will be effective.

The reluctance of horse or mule to “come to you” is perhaps echoed in the willing diversion of our hearts away from the Lord’s presence. We carry upon us both the burden of unresolved shame as well as the poundage of a pride that does not relish correction. And so we dig our heels in, refusing to “Come to the waters…[to] buy and eat…without money and without cost.”

You really don’t need to carry that weight any longer. In coming to the LORD we are not coming to a faceless rider, as simply another mount for him to use. We are those he dearly loves. He will not exploit our weaknesses.

Nor are we hopeless captives to the folly of our pride and to the fear of exposure. The Spirit is able to help us calm and quieten our souls, so that we no longer fret fitfully like children who have not been weaned (Psalm 131). Instead, we can truly find rest in the joy of knowing that “the LORD’s unfailing love surrounds the one who trusts in him” (verse 10), trusting in the God “who justifies the ungodly” (Rom. 4:5).

When the day closes, our confidence is this: he will not let the rising of the mighty waters reach us. He himself is our hiding-place, the strongest protection from trouble, even the self-inflicted pain of stubbornness. And he will ever surround us with songs of deliverance.

************

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee;

Let the water and the blood,

From Thy riven side which flowed,

Be of sin the double cure,

Cleanse me from its guilt and power.

Not the labours of my hands

Can fulfil Thy law's demands;

Could my zeal no respite know,

Could my tears for ever flow,

All for sin could not atone;

Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring,

Simply to the cross I cling;

Naked, come to Thee for dress;

Helpless, look to Thee for grace;

Foul, I to the fountain fly;

Wash me, Saviour, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath,

When my eyelids close in death,

When I soar through tracts unknown,

See Thee on thy judgment throne;

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee.

(Augustus Montague Toplady, 1740-78)

a love theme for the wilderness

On the same album that yielded the title of this blog, The Blue Nile also penned a song that has the words, “I write a new book every day - a love theme for the wilderness”. That life can be thought of as, at times, a wilderness experience is something the Bible doesn’t simply endorse but lays down as a regular feature of the Christian life.

Wilderness is where the people of Israel spent 40 years after the exodus from Egypt. Freed from slavery, they spent the next 40 years wandering, in almost aimless circles, in the desert (as John Starke notes, Moses had “a lot to communicate to a people who are called to live free when they’ve known only slavery”). What sort of release from captivity is this turning out to be? Where is the freedom, where is the fulfilment of hope? Where is the love?

And we experience the same struggles. “I write a new book every day”? Hardly. We sketch out a rough draft and then fill the waste-bin with rejected scripts. Even the most accomplished among us remain complete amateurs at penning a tale that makes sense of life, that holds out hope as a validated reality.

We need far more than our own words, our own designs. That book looks ready to be pulped before it’s even been written.

Our great confidence is that the Lord is the divine Author and the overarching theme of his tale is love, a love that persists even in the wilderness of our own choices. It’s the story of a love that seeks and saves, that keeps and guards, that sanctifies the heart and clarifies the hope. A love that doesn't wilt in the burning heat of a shade-less noon at the foot of a Cross. When all around and within our soul gives way, he then, in great covenant love, is all our strength and stay.

And his pen is filled with indelible ink. There can be no erasing of his declared promise to take and make a people for himself, the commitment to melt their hard hearts even as they endure the wilds of the wilderness.

In the book of Hosea, his love to a wayward people - people just like us - is expressed with deepest compassion:

I am now going to allure her;

I will lead her into the wilderness

and speak tenderly to her. (Hosea 2:14)

In the most unexpected and dramatic twist in the tale, the wilderness experience was for the sake of winning his people’s hearts back to him, saving them from the destruction of their sins. The cold light of their exilic day would expose the decay of their waywardness, even as the rising sun would declare the Lord’s unfailing love, its heat beginning to thaw their obduracy.

Has he been softening your heart, to bring you back to himself? Or opening your eyes to see that what you thought was paradise is, in truth, the badlands? If he is doing that it is an act of tenderest kindness. He wants to bring you home.

In his novel, Jayber Crow, Wendell Berry describes young J Crow’s days in an orphanage after his adoptive parents’ deaths. He would wake in fear but slowly grew accustomed to where he now lived - but he knew it wasn’t what he longed for:

After I quit waking up afraid, feeling that I might be nowhere, I began getting used to the place. I began to take for granted that I was somewhere, and somewhere that I knew, but I never quite felt that I was somewhere I wanted to be. Where I wanted to be, always, day in and day out, year in and year out, was Squires Landing and all that fall of country between Port William up on the ridge and the river between Sand Ripple and Willow Run. When I heard or read the word home, that patch of country was what I thought of. Home was one of the words I wrote in my tablet.

Home, his heavenly home, is what the LORD writes on the tablets of our hearts. Soon enough, our wilderness days will close and its love theme finally fulfilled. The waiting country will be exchanged for eternal dwellings and our dear Lord Jesus, the one who suffered in a wilderness and overcame, will speak his words of heartiest welcome.

************

Instead of a hymn to close this email, here’s a link to a new song by the super-talented Rob Halligan, where he has put some words I wrote to music and I could not be more chuffed!

This item was first published on the waiting country newsletter - to subscribe see below: