the middle mile

Vance Havner:

To most of us, the most important parts of a journey are the start and finish. But the part of a trip that really tests the traveler is neither the beginning nor the end but the middle mile.

Anybody can be enthusiastic at the start. The long road invites you, you are fresh and ready to go. It is easy to sing then. And it is easy to be exuberant at the finish. You may be footsore and weary but you have arrived, the goal is reached, the crown is won. It is not difficult to be happy then.

But on the dreary middle mile when the glory of the start has died away and you are too far from the goal to be inspired by it—on the tedious middle mile when life settles down to a regular routine and monotony-there is the stretch that tires out the traveler.

If you can sing along the middle mile, you've learned one of life's most difficult lessons.

This is true of all life's little journeys. A boy hears a great musician and is inspired to undertake a musical career. Years later, he makes his debut and leaps into fame. Both those milestones, his start and his success, are played up in the papers. You hear nothing about the middle mile when he banged a piano until his ears rang; those dull, drab years when he was so often tempted to give it up and be a nobody. But it was the middle mile that made him, that proved the fabric of his soul. . . .

A boy and girl marry. It is easy to be affectionate those first heavenly days when life is a paradise made for two. Fifty years later they lie in the sunset's glow still in love although time has bent and wrinkled them and silver threads have long since replaced the gold. But it is neither the honeymoon nor the golden wedding that tests the lover. It is the middle stretch, when rent is due and hubby had lost his job and the kids have the whooping cough, that tests the traveler of the matrimonial highway.

A man is converted, "gets religion" we say. It is easy to be spiritual those first great days when the wine of a new affection so intoxicates the soul. A half-century later, he comes to the dark valley and a song is still on his lips and the heavenly vision is still bright within him. But the testing place of his religion was the long middle mile when the enthusiasm of the start had passed and the goal was still far away, when the vision had dimmed a bit and a sense of things real came doubly strong." . . .

So in life as a whole, it is not for fine beginnings and noble resolutions that we suffer most today. And nobody needs advice on how to be happy at the end of the road, for if you have traveled well, the end of the way will care for itself. It is on the intermediate stretch where the rosy start gives way to long desert marches, where the ordinariness of life bears heaviest on the soul-it is there that we need to know how to keep the inner shrine aglow with the heavenly vision. . . .

This grace of the middle mile the Bible calls "patient continuance." It is a wonderful art that few have mastered. It proves, as nothing else can, that character. And it gets least attention from the world because there is nothing very dramatic about it. There is something theatric in a big start or a glorious finish. There is nothing for a news reporter along the middle mile. It is a lonesome mile, for the crowd is whooping'er up for the fellow who got through. It's a hard mile, for it's too far to go back and a long way to go on. But if you can keep a song within and a smile without on this dreariest stretch of life, if you can lean to transform it into a paradise of its own, you have mastered the greatest secret of victorious living, the problem of the middle mile.

 With thanks to Vitamin Z.

we were made for this

Christine Hoover:

Life is a difficult hike, isn't it? Sometimes the path is smooth and we're bouncing merrily along, but most of the time it's slippery and treacherous, and we wonder if it will all be worth it in the end.

We've heard of what's to come, and we're told the views will be glorious, but we haven't seen it for ourselves and it's difficult to imagine.

All we see are the things in front of us: the trees, the stumbling blocks, the gnats flying around our face. And we feel things too: the pain, the exertion, the complaints rising up in us. It's a matter of faith that the views are ahead and a matter of endurance, and no one can do the work for us.

We were made for this--for faith. We were made to hope that the end and the views are a reality and to anticipate what we'll find at the top.

So let's keep walking, keep pushing, keep believing. Because these light and momentary afflictions will give way to rest and warmth and joy. They will give way to Him. Where we once could only imagine and hope, we will see clearly.

And we will look back at the trail on which we've come and, with great satisfaction, know that it was worth it in the end.

Read the rest here.

when the struggle doesn't end, where is grace?

It took me a while to sort out the gold from this great little post, so I'm giving it to you here:

We like happy endings and success stories, so it's easy to think experiencing triumph is the epitome of the Christian life. The prayers were answered. The sin was conquered. The problem was solved.

But what if He chooses otherwise? What if the battle with sin is lifelong or the circumstances don't change? What if grace not only grants deliverance but gives patient endurance year after year?

Grace may not wear the champion's laurels, but be incognito, dressed in the plain clothes of the long-term struggles of life. God's grace is present and sufficient even when it's hiding in plain sight.

Oh Lord, give me eyes to see!

It's something I've been thinking about a lot recently.

God's grace is for endurance, not for escape. We like to share our success stories, but we also need to share our struggles and the fight to hold on to faith.

That's why I've been writing this series, even though it's sometimes painful.

You can read the rest of the article here. There's lots more gold in it.

keep pedalling to the end

To understand the Christian life, imagine riding a bicycle in the middle of a two-way street heading up a steep hill. Your job is to keep the bicycle wheels on the yellow line and keep pedalling. If you veer to the left or to the right, with cars zipping past you on both sides, you're road kill. And as you get further up the hill, the forces of gravity and fatigue make pedalling more difficult (so get it out of your head that elderly people go on spiritual cruise control). The challenge continues until the end, and there is no reprieve until we finally arrive home.

Of course, we do veer off the yellow line. Every single day. And when we do, Jesus' victory---the cross, resurrection and pouring out of the Spirit---provides forgiveness and healing. But we are nevertheless called to pedal. When our legs feel shot and we're unable to proceed, we pray for divine strength, and somehow it comes. This is God's promise: "He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion on the day of Jesus Christ" (Phil. 1:6).

From an African missionary quoted by Chris Castaldo. You can read the rest here.

image is by Bichxa at flickr

what I'm reading: escape or endurance from The Briefing

When life is hard, how we long to be delivered! Whether it's a niggling health issue, ongoing grief, the pressure of sickness or disability, or just the wearying, unrelenting demands of life, how we long for our difficulties to end!

We pray, asking God, "Why haven't you taken this away? What are you trying to achieve? It's not glorious, no-one sees it, yet you ask me to bear it day by day. Why don't you deliver me?".

I was reflecting on these things recently when I read these words in The Briefing:

There is something real about the Psalms. As you read about the Psalmist's world, it still looks the same as your world...But in the midst of this realism, like a cool breeze on a stifling summer's night comes the quiet promises of God. Despite the rhetoric in so many of 'his' churches, these promises don't really tell you how to escape; instead, they help you to endure.

The apostle Paul once begged God - three times! - to take away his "thorn in the flesh". Instead of delivering him, Jesus said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Cor 12:1-10)

We would choose escape; but often, what God gives us is strength to endure. Even when no human sees our patient endurance, God sees it, and his name is glorified.

Quote is from Peter Bolt's article "Delightful breezes from the Psalms" in The Briefing; emphasis mine.

images is from ashley rose at flickr

what I've been reading: burn out vs rust out from Peter Brain's Going the Distance

Robert Murray McCheyne, at the end of his short life, said,

God gave me the gospel and a horse. I've killed the horse, so I can no longer preach the gospel. (He was speaking of his body.)

Christmas Evans says,

I'd rather burn out than rust out in the service of the Lord.

James Berkeley responds,

I admire the bravado. It sounds dedicated, bold, and stirring. However, when I view the burnt-outs and the almost burnt-outs who lie by the ecclesiastical road, the glory fails to reach me. I see pain and waste and unfinished service. Is there not a third alternative to either burning out or rusting out? In Acts 20:24, Paul stated, "I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me". Herein lies the model I choose to follow. I want neither to burn out nor rust out. I want to finish the race.

These quotes are from Peter Brain's Going the Distance: How to Stay Fit for a Lifetime of Ministry pp. 10, 20; emphases mine.

making it to the end

The year is winding down, and life is unravelling a little around the edges. I'm no longer so keen to get up early and read my Bible. Chores go neglected. The kids' homework tapers off, then stops. The days I planned so carefully at the start of the year and launched myself into with shiny new enthusiasm gradually become chaotic and disorganized.

We're all tired out, sick of the familiar tasks. We drag ourselves out of bed and into the car in the mornings. We hold onto what's left of our routine by our fingertips. We feel like we deserve some respite—some reward for getting this far. We'll make it to the end of the year—to holidays and rest and a new start—we will!—but we'll be glad when we get there.

It occurs to me that many things in life are like this. I once worked in ministry alongside an enthusiastic, committed Christian leader. When he knew he was moving on to another ministry position, he became distracted and emotionally absent. I imagine it's the same with a marriage that's coming to an end—or a job, a task, a relationship. When you're no longer committed to the long haul, or when the long haul is nearing its end, it's hard to keep on going.

Life itself is like this. I wonder how it feels to approach the end of a life. Does it feel like you can't be bothered any more—like you've earned some rest now that the long, hard years are nearly over? Is that why so many people retire from an active role in life when they grow old?

This tendency of humans to move on before we've moved on—to peter out before we've reached the end—to give up, give in, give ourselves over to laziness and inattention—is just one more example of how deeply sin infects us. For the attitude God wants from us is just the opposite:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted. (Heb 12:1-3)

I think of my father-in-law, who served and taught and evangelized and encouraged right into his last cancer-ridden days. I think of a faithful couple who adopted a disabled child and who haven't given up caring for that child even into adulthood—even when it's harder rather than easier. I think of friends who endure chronic illness, ongoing grief, or persistent depression—who stubbornly fight for their faith even though every day is a struggle.

Let's not give up before we get there. Let's not let go of what we've attained (Phil 3:16). Let's keep on loving, even when we're weary of loving (Gal 6:9). Let's not taper off. Let's not end weakly. Let's remember that what lies beyond the end makes reaching the end worthwhile. Let's make it our aim to be able to say one day,

… the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness … (2 Tim 4:6-8)

This article is reprinted from last Friday's post on Sola Panel.

images are from expatriotact and Mollivan Jon at flickr

who ever lives to plead for me - a meditation on the resurrection

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea,
A great High Priest whose name is love,
Who ever lives and pleads for me.

The resurrection has come to mean a great deal to me lately, as I've listened to this song and read Hebrews morning by morning. I never fully realised it before, but because Jesus died and rose from the dead, he now stands before the Father in heaven praying for us - praying for me!

It sank in as I was reading Hebrews 2 the other morning. At first, it seemed like one of those chapters you skip past, I'm ashamed to admit. But after talking to my husband, and hearing him describe it as one of the most significant passages in the Bible, I took a closer look. I'm so glad I did!

Hebrews says it over and over and over again: Jesus is our high priest. He represents us before God in the Holy of Holies in heaven, where he presented the perfect sacrifice of his blood once for all time, and where he constantly prays for us. And what a "merciful and faithful high priest" he is!

Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. ... [W]e do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. ... Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them. Such a high priest meets our need—one who is holy, blameless, pure, set apart from sinners, exalted above the heavens. ... He sacrificed for their sins once for all when he offered himself. (from Heb 2:9-18, 4:14-16, 7:25-27, my emphasis).

Satan hurls his accusations against us day and night (Rev 12:10). But there is One "who speaks to the Father in our defense—Jesus Christ" (1 Jn 2:1-2). His bloody sacrifice of himself has covered all our sins for all time (Heb 9:11-14, 10:11-14). He "always lives to intercede" for us (Heb 7:25, Rom 8:34).

Most startling of all, this high priest is "holy, blameless, pure, set apart from sinners, exalted above the heavens", yet he knows exactly what it feels like to be tempted! He sympathises with me in my weakness.

I get so weary of struggling to trust and obey God. But Jesus also "suffered when he was tempted" (Heb 2:9). The fact that he struggled against temptation, again and again and again, yet never sinned, is a shining beacon to me not to "grow weary in doing good" (2 Thess 3:13).

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Heb 12:1-3)

image is from stock.xchng

Pilgrim's Progress: journey through a varied landscape

This book will make a traveller of thee,
If by its counsel thous wilt ruled be;
It will direct thee to the Holy Land,
If thou wilt its directions understand.

John Bunyan is inviting you on a journey. It’s a pilgrimage from a City doomed to Destruction to a City of Glory. Along the way, you’ll face giants, fiends, lions and robbers. You’ll be tempted to leave the stony path for softer pastures. You’ll meet people who try to turn you from the way. You’ll face hunger, thirst, weariness, even death. There will be times of rest and refreshment, but also times of doubt and despair. Are you ready to travel the straight and narrow path?

God also invites us on a journey. Like Abraham and Moses, we are nomads travelling through an inhospitable land to a fair country we have been promised but never seen. We flee Satan's country for a new and better land, a heavenly City prepared by God. We are “aliens and strangers”, “sojourners and exiles”, “strangers and pilgrims on this earth" (Heb. 11:13; 1 Pet. 2:11 – NIV, ESV, Geneva). God calls us to turn our backs on all that is dear to us, and to run, like Christian, with fingers in our ears and faces towards heaven.

Do you think of your Christian life as a journey? People talk about their "spiritual journey", but it's often a fuzzy-minded way of saying "You have your journey, I have mine". We've forgotten the Bible's idea of the Christian life as a pilgrimage through an alien landscape, beset by troubles and trials, ever tempted to stray from the true path. We have much to learn from Pilgrim's Progress. ...

Old Honest sums it up beautifully:

It happens to us as it happens to wayfaring men: sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul; sometimes up hill, sometimes down hill; we are seldom at a certainty. The wind is not always on our backs, nor is every one a friend that we meet with in the way.

Here's what I've learnt from Pilgrim's Progress. I've learnt that no time lasts forever: that times of difficulty are followed by times of rest, and times of refreshment with new trials. I've been warned not to leave the path for an easier way, the promise of safety, or the lure of pleasure. I've been reminded not to put down my roots in pleasant places, and be lulled to sleep by comfort and happiness. I'll choose my travelling companions with care. I'll keep my Guide-book close, and consult it often. I'm determined to travel on days of sunshine, and days when I struggle against the wind. I'm travelling a pilgrim's path, and with God's help, I'll make it to the end. "The bitter must come before the sweet, and that also will make the sweet the sweeter".

Read the rest at EQUIP book club today.

to those who sorrowed and now rejoice

And another dedication, this time from Edward Welch's book Depression: A stubborn darkness:

To my father
W.Edward Welch,

who, on this side of heaven,
after years of depression, guilt and worry,
persisted on an ordinary yet heroic path
with quiet wisdom
and is finding joy

I opened this book today, and was immensely comforted by these words. For only this morning I was longing for heaven: and how far away it seems to this nearly 40 woman!

At this point in life, it feels like the battle has been going on for a very long time, and that it will probably continue for many years to come: the same old sins, the same old discouragement, the same old anxieties, the same ordinary days.

And yet I know I have been richly blessed by God. I enjoy so much, I won't deny it. But even for me it can be hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

How much harder it must be for those who are grieving for someone dearly loved, suffering from a chronic illness, or struggling through deep depression!

The "ordinary yet heroic" lives that lead to the joy of our Lord.