be happy in God, O my heart

Be happy in God, O my heart, and in nothing but God,
for whatever a man trusts in,
from that he expects happiness.

He who is the ground of thy faith
should be the substance of thy joy.

Whence then comes heaviness and dejection,
when joy is sown in thee,
promised by the Father,
bestowed by the Son,
inwrought by the Holy Spirit,
thine by grace,
thy birthright in believing? ...

Look not below God for happiness;
fall not asleep in Delilah’s lap.

Let God be all in all to thee,
and joy in the fountain that is always full.


From The Valley of Vision, quoted by Georgianne.

God can pick sense out of a confused prayer: Richard Sibbes

Do you ever feel weak? (Yes!) Do you ever feel like you don't know how to pray? (Double yes!) Or like your prayers are weak and distracted and wavering? (Oh, yes!)

I've never forgotten Richard Sibbes' The Bruised Reed. It's one of a few lasting memories from my Puritan study days: words that stick in your mind and sing to your heart long after you've laid down the book.

Here it is, quoted by Challies:

A Christian complains he cannot pray.

"Oh, I am troubled with so many distracting thoughts, and never more than now!"

But has he put into your heart a desire to pray? Then he will hear the desires of his own Spirit in you.

"We do not know what to pray for as we ought" (nor how to do anything else as we ought), but the Spirit helps our infirmities with "groanings too deep for words" (Rom. 8:26)..."My sighing is not hidden from you" (Psa. 38:9).

God can pick sense out of a confused prayer...

Sometimes a Christian has such confused thoughts that he can say nothing but, as a child, cries, "O Father", not able to express what he needs...These stirrings of spirit touch the heart of God and melt him into compassion towards us...

"Oh, but is it possible", thinks the misgiving heart, "that so holy a God should accept such a prayer?" Yes, he will accept that which is his own, and pardon that which is ours...

Look at the promises: "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver you" (Psa. 50:15). "Ask, and it shall be given to you" (Matt. 7:7).

God accepts our prayers, though weak, because we are his own children, and they come from his own Spirit; because they are according to his own will; and because they are offered in Christ’s mediation, and he takes them, and mingles them with his own incense (Rev. 8:3).

There is never a holy sigh, never a tear we shed, which is lost.

And as every grace increases by exercise of itself, so does the grace of prayer. By prayer we learn to pray. So, likewise, we should take heed of a spirit of discouragement in all other holy duties, since we have so gracious a Saviour.

Pray as we are able, hear as we are able, strive as we are able, do as we are able, according to the measure of grace received. God in Christ will cast a gracious eye upon that which is his own...

Let us not be cruel to ourselves when Christ is thus gracious.

There is a certain meekness of spirit whereby we yield thanks to God for any ability at all, and rest quiet with the measure of grace received, seeing it is God’s good pleasure it should be so...

When, with faithful endeavor, we come short of what we would be, and short of what others are, then know for our comfort, Christ will not quench the smoking flax.

You can read the rest here.

although I am in the wilderness

Help me to see that although I am in the wilderness
it is not all briars and barrenness.
I have bread from heaven, streams from the rock,
light by day, fire by night,
thy dwelling place and thy mercy seat.
I am sometimes discouraged by the way,
but though winding and trying it is safe and short.


From "The Valley of Vision".

HT Georgianne

Puritanism: a piety of joy

Today I discovered something exciting - well, exciting to me (and perhaps to no-one else except my mum). The one and only article I wrote about the Puritans is online!1

The Gospel Coalition has published all the old issues of Kategoria, a quarterly journal edited by Kirsten Birkett and put out by Matthias Media from 1996 to 2004.

There, in issue number 10, published wa-a-ay back in 1998, shortly after I finished my PhD and just before my daughter was born, is an article by yours truly:

Puritanism: a piety of joy.

For me, reading it was like visiting an earlier self: a scholarly pre-child self, who had forgotten more about the Puritans than I will ever remember, and who spoke (or wrote, at least) with long footnotes and a knowledgeable tone.

I enjoyed the article. It's not a bad read. You might enjoy it to. You'll find it here, on page 11. Here's a quote to whet your appetite, from the Puritan preacher John Collinges' sermons on the Song of Songs:

Is Jesus Christ precious to you? Is his name to your soul like an ointment poured forth? Is your whole heart filled with the sweet smell of Jesus Christ? Are you ravished with his love? Does the very thinking of Christ ravish your heart? Does the naming of him carry your soul almost above itself in an ecstasy of love? Is he like an apple to your taste, that your mouth is filled with the sweetness of his juice? Are you melted with his love?2.

And if that doesn't puncture your pre-conceptions about the sober-minded, black-hatted, joy-squashing Puritans, nothing will.

I might bring you some more quotes in coming weeks.


1. Thanks, Lionel, for letting me know, and Sandy for drawing his attention to it.
2. John Collinges, Five Lessons for a Christian to Learne, 1650, sermon 1, page 49.

5 books that changed who I am (3) mid 20s

More on the books that changed who I am...

3. mid-20s - learning to enjoy God
All that thinking, and perhaps I still needed to learn to enjoy God. I'd become convinced us evangelicals were great at thinking about God, but not always so good at godly emotions: things like fear and sorrow and, above all, joy. Surely the truth should shape every part of us, including our emotions!

Oddly enough, I learnt about joy during what you'd expect to be a very dry season: while studying for my PhD (lots of microfilm and dusty library catalogues). I learnt it at the feet of the Puritans, especially as I read John Owen's Communion with God. Over many memorable days, Owen fed me with the unchanging facts of union with Christ, taught me (wonder of wonders) that God delights in me, and invited me to enjoy the many facets of communion with Christ. I blogged about what I learnt here.

Runners up: John Piper Desiring God, CS Lewis Surprised by Joy, and Mike Raiter Stirrings of the Soul (later to be joined by Piper's When I Don't Desire God, which helped me fight for joy during tougher times).

Which books have helped you to rejoice in God? Tell us here.

The Puritans: pilgrims and warriors

What do you think of when you hear the word “Puritan”? Gloomy men in black clothes and black, peaked hats with buckles, and their wives in white head scarves and demure dresses? Strait-laced kill-joys, opposed to dancing, theatre, and sport?

Maybe it’s vaguer for you than that. Maybe you think of the word “puritanical”, which the Online Dictionary says is “usually disparaging”, meaning “strict in moral or religious outlook”, with synonyms like “severe, disapproving, stuffy, fanatical, bigoted, prim, narrow-minded, prudish, strait-laced, rigorous, proper”. Not exactly an attractive portrait, is it? ...

Let me give you a different picture. The Puritans were our forbears, the evangelicals of 16th and 17th England, who wanted to reform the English church further. Their clothes were normal, and often brightly coloured; they opposed many things we would also oppose, like bear-baiting and gambling; and they moved organs from churches into their homes, where they enjoyed music and dancing. ...

But the Puritans have an immense amount to teach us. Here are some of the things we can learn from them: ...

Read the rest at EQUIP book club today.

enjoying God (2) how God feels about you

It was an unlikely moment for a spiritual revelation.

I was in my mid-twenties, sitting at an oak desk, pencil in hand, heater at my feet, ploughing through John Owen's Communion with God for my PhD.

John Owen was one of the most famous Puritan writers and teachers - he was chaplain to Oliver Cromwell and preacher to his armies - but he's not exactly known for his scintillating writing style. Words like "difficult", "dry", and "dense" spring to mind.

I had 13 thick volumes of his collected works to get through, plus another 6 volumes of his commentary on Hebrews (I never did read that!), and it was slow, painstaking work.

But today I was becoming increasingly excited about what I was reading - the wonders of communion with God - when a Bible verse upped and hit me in the face:

The LORD your God is with you,
he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing. (Zephaniah 3:17)

Rejoice? With singing? I'd never read about a God like that before. Here's what John Owen had to say:

His heart is glad in us, without sorrow. And every day while we live is his wedding-day…The thoughts of communion with the saints were the joy of his heart from eternity. (p.25 of vol.2 of the Works of John Owen)

Huh? You mean God doesn't love me a little reluctantly? After all, he has to love me, now that Jesus has died for me. And I know my life's a bit of a mess. I keep trying to do what he wants, but failing. I know he's patient, and forgiving, but surely he has to work at it? Surely there are days he gets fed-up with me, and wants out?

Maybe that verse is a one-off? But no, here it is again:

The LORD will take delight in you ... as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you. (Isaiah 62:4-5)

And again, and again, and again (Deut. 7:6-8; Psalm 35:27, 149:4; Proverbs 11:20, 12:22; Isaiah 5:7,62:4-5; 65:17-9; Jeremiah 31:20, 32:41).

God rejoices in his people. A joy so profound, it can only be compared to the delight of a bridegroom in his beautiful bride on their wedding night. A joy so exuberant, it can only be expressed through singing, shouting, and dancing. A joy so boundless, that we will swim in the ocean of his delight for all eternity, and never come to the end of it.

PhDs and providence

What a waste of time my 5 years writing a PhD could have been!

I'm not sure why I did a PhD. Probably a hang-over from my private schooling: if you transfer to Arts after 1 year of Medicine, you'd better justify your choice by getting some letters after your name.

I really wanted to go to theology college, but Steve and I couldn't both afford it. So if the government was handing out scholarships, why not study theology disguised as church history?

Such noble goals!

I chose my topic fairly randomly. I couldn't do Reformation history because I didn't know French, German or Latin, not having done any particularly useful subjects during Arts.

But I was chatting with Gordo one memorable day when he suggested: "How about the Puritans? They were the evangelicals of sixteenth century England!" (He was doing a Masters on the Puritans, and as far as I know, is doing it still.)

So the topic "The Puritan quest for enjoyment of God" was born.

A few days ago, I was staring at my over-loaded bookshelf, when I noticed how many of the topics I write and speak about were covered by my PhD:

- the greatness of God, who created us not from need, but for his glory;
- the grace of God, who set his love on us before the foundation of the world;
- the Puritans, who lived for God with passion and purpose;
- the spiritual marriage between Christ and the church;
- the inexpressible and glorious joy which is ours in Christ;
- holiness, fighting the battle against sin in thought, word and deed;
- spiritual disciplines, like prayer, meditation and soliloquy;
- psychology, how to respond to issues like depression, anxiety and discouragement;
- faithful marriage and family life, shaped by God's priorities.

Those 5 years shut away in my study were a brilliant preparation for every minute of motherhood and ministry afterwards.

In God's good providence, nothing is wasted. Not even a casual comment. Not even a mixture of motives. Not even 5 years in the wilderness writing a PhD.

All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. Psalm 139:16

meditation on a lettuce leaf

I was sitting in the Maternal and Child Health Care Centre yesterday morning, waiting for the nurse to appear, slightly anxious because I had brought Thomas' yellow record book instead of Andrew's blue one (an essential item on all visits to the nurse). I had been congratulating myself on remembering the record book during my mad rush to get out of the house by 8:45 (after having suddenly realised it was 8:30 and I hadn't showered, dressed Andrew, done Lizzy's hair, put on Andrew's and Thomas' shoes, or finished packing Ben's lunchbox) until I arrived at the nurse and realised I had picked up the wrong book.

So I was sitting there waiting, somewhat anxiously as I explained, while Andrew and Thomas played with the toys, when Thomas said "lettuce!" and pulled out an incredibly realistic toy lettuce leaf. My immediate reaction was to wonder why someone had left a fresh lettuce leaf among the toys, when I picked it up and realised that no real lettuce leaf has the weight and rubberiness of seaweed, let alone a small circle on the back where the rubber/plastic mix has been poured into the mould. But this toy lettuce leaf was meticulously contoured and coloured, perfect in every detail, obviously one of those expensive toy foods. (Those of you who are not parents or childcare providers may be surprised to discover that toy food has a range of accuracy depending on its price, but I assure you it's true. One of the advantages of wealth is realistic plastic food.)

What a miniature world of wonder is the lettuce leaf! Seeing it lying there, in all its perfectly detailed moulded plastic glory, led to a lengthy reflection on how beautifully God has made the humble lettuce. Have you ever noticed how the flesh of the lettuce leaf bulges out between each tiny vein, so that the whole leaf is ruched and fluted? Or how delicately coloured a lettuce leaf is (and no, I'm not talking iceberg, this was your top end lettuce) from palest green at the stem, gradually shading to a rich, deep green at the edges? Or how the texture varies (at least in a real lettuce leaf, not a rubbery plastic one) from the curved firm stem at the heart of the leaf, with its long, straight veins holding the leaf erect, fanning out to the delicately thin, crisp leaf, with its tiny hills and valleys, trimmed at its edges more daintily than any frock, with minutely ruffled edges?

This simple toy lettuce leaf filled me with awe for the God who made real lettuce leaves, with his incredible attention to the beauty of humble things. I guess he could have given us a perfectly flat, spherical, vitamin-filled leaf. Instead, he gave us an incredible variety of lettuce leaves, each one meticulously textured, coloured and detailed, a small object of incredible beauty, if only we stop to look before we crunch. Praise be to the God who created this world so wonderfully, a world in which even the lowly lettuce leaf bears witness to his glory, and fills our hearts, if we take time to reflect for a moment, with awe and admiration for him.

This, by the way, is an example of what the Puritans called "creaturely meditation", much easier to do with a sunset than a lettuce leaf, in which we reflect on how God's character is revealed in the things he has made, and allow them to lead us to him in wonder and praise.