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

free music

I am loving listening to Josh Garrels at the moment - beautiful, layered, textured music - and so far like what I've heard from Page CXVI and The Autumn Film.

And you can download all their music for free if you do it before the 28th of March!

Just click here for Josh Garrels.

 

And click here for Page CXVI and The Autumn Film...

Exciting news!!! PageCXVI and The Autumn Film are still celebrating 7 years of music by giving away their entire discography from both their projects Page CXVI and The Autumn Film*. Noisetrade has partnered with them for our March Jubilee Giveaway! They are thrilled and honored to work with an outstanding team of people who care deeply about music. If you have not already downloaded their 74 song, 11 album, 2 band giveaway please please visit their giveaway on Noisetrade now! 

*They had to leave out a few songs due to copyright/royalty issues, but are all available on iTunes.

a cry of hopelessness

What I've written here is not all that can be said about suffering: far from it. But I've published it, somewhat hesitantly, because I think suffering will drive all of us to this point sooner or later.

I sit there stony-faced, staring out the windscreen, driving in automatic, lips pressed together. I’ve had enough. I don’t want it any more: this struggle and these doubts and these unanswered prayers. I’ve had enough. It’s been a long week – a long year! – and there’s nothing left. I’ve had enough.

My 12-year-old son sits next to me. He’s not used to this grim silence, but I don’t have it in me to make conversation. He glances at me, and I can feel the question in his gaze. Finally, in a small voice, he asks me, “Why are you sad, Mummy? You look so sad. I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

Guilt rises to the surface and overflows. I apologise. I tell him it’s not his fault (it’s not), other things besides his circumstances are making me sad (they are), he didn’t cause this (he didn’t). But part of me doesn’t care. Part of me feels like hitting out. I’ve had enough.

We’re on the way to school to pick up some homework sheets. He’s missed nearly a week of school. Four weeks into secondary school, and already his year is disrupted. It’s a particularly bad migraine this time, and there’s no predicting how long his headaches will last.1 A day? A week? A month? A term? We’ve seen them all.

Over three years he’s been sick now, and counting. Over three years I’ve prayed. Prayed and watched. Prayed and hoped. Prayed and given up hope. Prayed and seen whole weeks of his life go past, given over to pain. Prayed and felt the sick discouragement creep in, quicker each time, when I see him ill – again.

I’ve tried to convince myself I can see a purpose to all this. Sometimes I can. When he’s well I can. When I see his courage and patience and trust, sometimes I can. But then he gets sick and his childhood slips away and it’s hard to hold on to hope. Doubt nibbles at the edges of my faith: What is God doing? Does he care? Is he even real?

You tell me (“you” being the voice of a dozen books and talks) to cry out to God, to bring my questions and confusion to him.2 God’s word tells me this. I tell myself this. But sometimes I don’t want to pray. I don’t want to tell God how I feel. I’m sick of saying the words. Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes I’ve had enough.

There are not always neat answers. Maybe there will be this time, maybe there won’t. Job never had an answer – or, at least, not one that was revealed to him. The writer of Psalm 88 had no answers, and he wrote the only Psalm that is utterly despairing, without a hint of hope.

How grateful I am that God included Psalm 88 in the Bible! There are others that teach me how to fight for hope when I am discouraged (e.g. Psalm 13, 42, 130), but this psalm tells me that sometimes it is okay just to cry out. At least the psalmist knows who to cry out to. His lament is the measure of his faith:

O Lord, God of my salvation; I cry out day and night before you… O Lord, why do you cast my soul away? Why do you hide your face from me? (Psalm 88:1, 14)

I might not have hope. Sometimes all I have is a handful of ashes, the crumbled remnants of my faith. But I do have words. I have God’s own words. He doesn’t pretend this is okay. He doesn’t pretend it makes sense. He puts the words of the psalmist in my mouth, and invites me to speak them.

And when I can’t speak – when my mouth won’t shape the words – I know that God’s Son and Spirit speak for me (Rom 8:26-27, 34). I know that once, on a cross, there was One who made the psalms of lament his own, so that, one day, we will no longer have to speak them (Psalm 22:1-2). I know that he is still my hope, even when I can’t see it.

There are times when all I can do is cry out.

There are times when I can’t cry out, but I know Someone is crying out for me.

Lord, give me the strength to at least cry out.


1. Our son suffers from migraines and Chronic Daily Headaches – which means he gets debilitating headaches regularly, sometimes for weeks at a time. It's over two weeks since I wrote this, and the headaches are continuing, but we've had some new medical advice and are realising that we will have to start managing this as a chronic condition.
2. I wrote about some of these talks here.


This post first appeared at The Briefing.

give me a broken heart that yet carries home the water of grace

This is one of the beautiful quotes from one of my favourite newly-discovered blogs, Georgianne. 

O changeless God,

Under the conviction of thy Spirit I learn that
the more I do, the worse I am,
the more I know, the less I know,
the more holiness I have, the more sinful I am,
the more I love, the more there is to love...

My mind is a bucket without a bottom,
always at the gospel-well but never holding water.

My conscience is without conviction or contrition,
with nothing to repent of.

My will is without power of decision or resolution.

My heart is without affection,
and full of leaks.

My memory has no retention,
so I forget easily the lessons learned,
and thy truths seep away.

Give me a broken heart that yet carries home
the water of grace.


From The Valley of Vision.

online meanderings

That moment when... - "Would she stay or would she go?" Beautiful.

What is God's will for my life? - "God's will is not intended to be found; it is intended to be followed." Amen.

Bono interveiw: grace over karma - Amazing.

Can you preach expositional sermons in poor, uneducated areas of the world? - From a housing estates ministry. I found this fascinating.

The beauty and usefulness of the elderly Christian - "You still have work to do for Him. Your witness is not over yet..." So encouraging.

Family times with God - Good suggestions from the ever-helpful Christine Jensen.

If when you become a Christian you write a big red “LOSS” across all the things in the world except Christ, then when Christ calls you to forfeit some of those things, it is not strange or unexpected. The pain and the sorrow may be great. The tears may be many, as they were for Jesus in Gethsemane. But we will be prepared. We will know that the value of Christ surpasses all the things the world can offer and that in losing them we gain more of Christ. John Piper

To see lots more links, click here (Facebook) or here (Twitter).

that moment when...

It's my first day at university, and I'm at an orientation event for a Christian group. I sit in a plastic chair listening to a bespectacled guy speaking on the topic "Good people make God vomit", which intrigues me more than a little. One year later, I give up my medical course and start an arts degree. I've found my vocation: I want to work with uni students, to teach young women about Jesus. Twenty-five years later, kids growing up, I walk back into uni to lead a girls' Bible study, and the past ripples through my mind. I love this as much as ever.

That moment when the world spins...

At that very first meeting, up the back of the room, I notice this guy. He's sitting frog-like, cross-legged on a table, brown legs clad in 80's-style brightly patterned shorts. As girls do, I register: yep, he's cute. His hair is short, his eyes blue. He laughs, head thrown back, and his laughter echoes across the room. Four years later, and we're a cliché: the cautious early days, the Christian uni romance, the all-too-long engagement. We're married, setting up home in a tiny flat filled with the noise of passing trains. Twenty-five years on, and our home is bigger, bursting at the scenes, and our marriage so much more than it used to be.

That moment when the world spins on its axis...

A few weeks into uni, I notice this girl at our Christian group. She has long, dark hair, and there's something about her. She has a quiet presence and a listening ear. She's thoughtful and reflective. She's funny. In my usual deliberate way, I decide I'd like to be friends with her. I sit nearby. We chat. The years pass, and another friend joins us to pray. Together, we live through it all: the free-and-easy uni days, marriage and children, suffering. We uncurl dozens of curly topics. We share and discuss hundreds of books. We weep and laugh and pray. Twenty-five years later, it's hard to imagine travelling this journey alone.

That moment when the world spins on its axis, and everything shifts around you...

I've been at uni for a year or so, and I'm chock-full of doubts. Do I believe what my parents told me? Is Christianity real? I delve into books and beg God for help and ask questions of anyone willing to listen. Piece by piece, I build the intellectual scaffolding that will support my adult faith, but it's not enough. One day, I open the gospel of Mark. I try to read like I've never read this before. The guy on the page speaks and dies and rises. He won't let me off the hook and he fills every corner of longing and his love can't be denied. There will still be doubts, but life without him is unimaginable.

That moment when the world spins on its axis, and everything shifts around you, and life...

My long uni days nearly over, I get the news we've been waiting for: I'm pregnant. On my way to tell my husband, walking the straight path by the cemetery, I'm floating, feet treading air. And my daughter is born and three sons come later and it's everything we hoped for and harder than I ever knew. It's sleepless nights and sacrifice. It's dreams laid aside and dreams fulfilled, noise till you can't bear it and chaos over the edge of patience. It's repetitive labour and a thousand sparkling memories. It's a small hand in mine and a child's ardent kisses and a teenager who's become a friend.

That moment when the world spins on its axis, and everything shifts around you, and life will never be the same again.


This was written in response to Meredith's Prompted to write.

online meanderings

God's promise for the disappointed - When you're feeling disappointed with God.

6 types of selfishness that Jesus came to kill - A helpful, thought-provoking list.

How to be mentored without a mentor - and how to mentor younger women when you don't have much time.

10 top books on death and grieving - A useful resource.

A helper not a hand-brake - Ignore the spelling ("brake" not "break") and enjoy this article about being a helper in marriage.

Porn: the battle women face and Shame on top of shame - Women struggle with porn and masturbation too.

Just think about that word “afterlife.” It assumes eternity is an endless postlude to where the action really happens. It’s “after.”...Instead let’s start thinking of this little puff of time, the next eighty or so years, as what it is: the pre-life. Russell Moore

To see lots more links, click here (Facebook) or here (Twitter).

choosing a school (3) an example

Why we rejected some schools

We visited a few secondary schools with new buildings and a nice paint job, but here are some things I observed:

• the kids looked disengaged and miserable. There were no smiles or greetings as we entered the classroom, just sullen looks. 
• the principal - yes, the principal! - talked disrespectfully to one of the kids, and she responded in kind (a debate over something she wasn't supposed to be doing). 
• when I asked, "Why should we send our children to your school", the principal looked blank, then came up with "New buildings". Hmmm...
• the discipline seemed to be lacking: there was uncontrolled rowdiness in one class; and when I asked about the bullying policy, there was no talk about consequences.
• there was clearly little effort to enforce the uniform policy. This is really no big deal, but it may show they've run out of energy for the small issues.
• when I asked about Christian groups, I was told, quite belligerently, "No, we're a secular school." That's fine - of course they are. But to have an antagonistic attitude to religious groups is another thing.
• at one school, there was no academic program: it focusses on the "tech" end of things. I really like that, but it's not suitable for our kids.

Why we chose our kids' secondary school
It has old buildings and is in need of a new coat of paint, but here are some things I noticed:

• the kids smile at you. They're polite. They look happy and engaged.
• the principal thoroughly impressed me. He loves his school, and he's totally committed to making it the best it can be. He's warm and well-liked but also a good disciplinarian.
• there's a clearly stated chain of consequences for discipline matters
• there's an academic program, but the school has a great "tech" program too. There's no exclusive effort to get only the "smarties" along to raise the school's score.
• most of the teachers I've met have been enthusiastic and engaging. (In any school there are some poor teachers, but lots of good ones shows they're getting their employment policy right.)
• when I asked about Christian groups, I discovered there's a chaplain at the school, and they're open to churches running groups at lunchtime (in fact, there's one starting soon). There are lots of Christian teachers: not something I ever expected, but a bonus, and at least the school doesn't feel anti-Christian.
• I love the range of facilities and subjects: animals in the science room, hospitality kitchen, vege garden, automotive and tech programs, great music faculty, etc... Not essential but attractive all the same.
• my daughter walked in and instantly felt at home. That clinched it for me!

Lots of question, close observation, and getting a "feel" for the school: that's how we did it.
I know parents have different methods, but this worked well for us.

What was your experience of choosing a school for your kids? 

Tell us here.

what I'm reading: a call to prayer from How Long O Lord

Do you ever feel like there's not much point praying? Or that there's not much point praying persistently, fervently, and at length?

I do. I found this deeply challenging. It's from Don Carson's How Long O Lord.

There are some Christians who think that intercessory prayer is likely to be successful in proportion to its length, fervency, intensity, volume, and high-mindedness, that individual conversions or even wide-scale revival can be had for the asking, and that the key to successful praying is badgering God into doing what he otherwise would not be willing to do.

There are other Christians who...cannot quite see what the point of prolonged intercessory prayer is at all. They know, of course, they should engage in prayer...But...they find it easier to make sense of Jesus’ injunction not to let our prayers rabbit on and on under the assumption we will be heard because of our many words (Matt. 6:7), than to imitate Jesus’ example in praying right through the night (Luke 6:12)....

The false prophets of Israel are denounced in these terms: “You have not gone up to the breaks in the wall to repair it for the house of Israel so that it will stand firm in the battle on the day of the LORD” (Ezek. 13:5)...They have not interceded with God on behalf of the nation...So judgement threatens:

I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none. So I will pour out my wrath on them and consume them with my fiery anger, bringing down on their own heads all they have done, declares the Sovereign LORD. (Ezek. 22:30-31)

This is remarkable. God seeks out believers who will pray in this intercessory way. He expects to be pleaded with along these lines...

The responsibility of his people to pray rests heavily upon them.

what's the point of marriage? (3) marriage looks inward: Timothy Keller’s The Meaning of Marriage

Marriage is a friendship… Friendship is a deep oneness that develops as two people, speaking the truth in love to each other, journey together to the same horizon. Spiritual friendship is the greatest journey of all, because the horizon is so high and far, yet sure—it is nothing less than “the day of Jesus Christ” and what we will be like when we finally see him face-to-face… What, then, is marriage for? It is for helping each other to become our future glory-selves, the new creations that God will eventually make us.1

“What is marriage for?” asks Timothy Keller in The Meaning of Marriage. He devotes chapter four to the answer: marriage is “a way for two spiritual friends to help each other on their journey to become the persons God designed them to be”.2 Marriage was God’s solution to loneliness: he made the woman to be Adam’s ’ezer, his ‘helper-companion’ (Gen 2:18) or ‘best friend’ (Prov 2:17), a theme Keller traces through the Bible (Song 5:16; Mal 2:14). Yet this is not friendship as an end in itself. Just as Christ sacrificed himself for his bride, the church, to make her holy (Eph 5:26), so husband and wife help each other become the people God made them to be.

The focus on marriage as friendship is this book’s strength, but also, at times, its weakness. There’s excellent advice on choosing a spouse—close friendship trumps romantic attraction—but the emphasis on the ‘secret thread’ or ‘mythos’ shared by true friends risks creating a new kind of ‘compatibility’ and discontentment in marriage.9 Yet this is more than balanced out by Keller’s realistic, biblical portrait of marriage as a covenant between two sinners, characterized by self-giving, truth-speaking, grace-fuelled love, even when you feel like you are loving a stranger.

Reading Keller is like reading the best of novels: you get caught up in the words while receiving rich food for the soul. Chapter after chapter covers useful ground: the first engages with our culture’s self-defeating romantic idealism; the second reminds us that only the gospel empowers love; and the third focuses on marriage’s heart, the faithful love that acts when it doesn’t feel yet grows through holiness into happiness. Kathy Keller’s chapter on headship and submission is a joy to read, and I appreciated her careful analysis of the difficult topics of gender and work. I was intrigued by the idea that marriage reflects the “dance of the Trinity” with its mutual self-giving love, and inspired by the way both husbands and wives are encouraged to take on the ‘Jesus role’ in marriage (Eph 5:21-33 cf. 1 Cor 11:3; Phil 2:1-11; 1 Pet 2:21-3:7).

I can see myself recommending this book again and again. It’s a gift to pastors and counselors, and single people will value its practical advice on dating and choosing a spouse. It will help engaged couples to lay a firm foundation for marriage, and married couples to build a strong relationship of mutual love. But to keep marriage from becoming insular, I’d suggest another book to be read in tandem with Keller’s.

I'll tell you about Christopher Ash's book next week, or you can read about it in my full article at The Briefing.

1. Timothy and Kathy Keller, The Meaning of Marriage, Hodder & Stoughton, London, 2011, pp. 110, 116-117, 120.
2. ibid., pp. 15-16.
3. bid., pp.124-126 cf. 112-114.