“O Thou who art my quietness, my deep repose,
My rest from strife of tongues, my holy hill,
Fair is Thy pavilion, where I hold me still.
Back let them fall from me, my clamorous foes,
Confusions multiplied;
From crowding things of sense I flee, and Thee I hide.
Until this tyranny be overpast,
Thy hand will hold me fast;
What though the tumult of the storm increase,
Grant to Thy servant strength, O Lord, and bless with peace.”
― Amy Carmichael, Toward Jerusalem
I am saddened, today, as I write, and, yet, strangely encouraged. This week, we buried a great friend and a great leader. She taught me how to stand when I was 17: trying to grow in a counseling gift I didn't yet understand. I think of her, but I also think of so many others; many who paid the price and have gone before us, and whose footsteps light the way in front of us as they tried to follow Jesus. I feel a shifting coming; a turning of the tides. Everywhere, the darkness is growing; some say it has always been this dark; others say that it's only that we are becoming more aware of it; my theory is that, in these days, the "dark will get darker, and the light lighter" (2 Timothy 3:13-14), and what we do with the light God has given us will determine the course of families, churches, nations, and kings. God has called us to arise (Isaiah 60) and to not be overcome by the darkness (fear; sorrow; guilt; compromise), but to overcome evil with good. All around us, we see losses insurmountable, and all around us, we see joy and abundant provision, and both are found in the same day. Those losses and joys encourage me even more in the hope that, as Winston Churchill once said, "This is our finest hour." We can look around and call these days dark, or we can stand up and shine with all that is within us, and even in the darkness, know the One who came to give us light.
There is a "civil war" coming, if you will; a dividing line where even compromise will seem okay; where power will sustitute godly authority; where even in the Name of God, intimidation, and division, and pride ("Only I know best") will be allowed to reign. James called this type of wisdom sensual, but said that the wisdom which comes from above will be teachable and peaceable; God's wisdom may bring a sword, at times, but against injustice, and compromise, and fear, and arrogance; NEVER against those God came to save. God's wisdom will never be heard oppressing people in the streets; His wisdom stoops low to honor and protect, but never to the point of calling darkness light or light darkness; never to the point of justifying what we know is not okay.
Those who have gone before us--who paid the price to teach us love, and joy, and fairness, and perseverance; who gave their lives for others regardless of the costs, but stood up to those same "others" when doing so was not popular; when keeping silent would have been easier; when compromise longed for control. We honor them, and we follow their example: love must always be the goal; wisdom must always seek to bring freedom and peace; arrogance and pride can never be the means to accomplishing our reforms; neither does speaking against the darkness equal religion and arrogance. We dance a careful dance: free and compassionate; holding to our standards and calling others to rise, and rightly discern wrong from right, yet willing to listen; never thinking we've arrived. As we dance a dance of grace, and mercy, and freedom, and compassion, we hold to who God has made us and allow others to be themselves. And we allow God to be over us all...to let Him be the One to bring conviction and change; to let Him use our lives to call others higher, and deeper, and further in Him.
To do any less would be to dishonor the memory of those who gave their lives in the battle; who at one point reached down to us and allowed us to climb upon their shoulders to see from a better view. May God giveus courage and wisdom; may He help us balance the truth with love; may He find us faithful when, like them, we close our eyes in sleep, and until that day, may He be our refuge from the enemy of our souls; may He truly be "a rest from strife of tongues." May we long to do His will; may we see Him in our hearts and know that, one day, we, too, will see Him, like those who have gone before us, now, face to face.
