The complete victory of praise

Jehoshaphat's army went to battle with song... and it was won by the time they got there.

"He appointed singers unto the LORD, and that should praise the beauty of holiness, as they went out before the army, and to say, Praise the LORD; for his mercy endureth for ever... And when Judah came toward the watch tower in the wilderness, they looked unto the multitude, and, behold, they were dead bodies fallen to the earth, and none escaped." --2 Chronicles 20

Lord, help me to fight my battles with praise...

Just a little longer

For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee. In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the LORD thy Redeemer. --Isaiah 54

My mind goes back to a little boy on an operating table. His father leans over him, grasping his hand tightly, sweat beading on his forehead-- not because of the intense tropical heat but because of the agony of seeing his little boy suffer. “Son!” he says, “be strong! Just a little longer and you won’t feel the pain. It will be over soon!” The father begins to feel faint as the sutures, one-by-one, close the gash on his son’s head. He leans heavily against the table, refusing to let go of his child's hand. We offer a chair, and sinking gratefully into it, he buries his face in his free hand, still grasping his son’s hand tightly with the other.

At last it is over. Everyone breathes easier. The trembling child finds refuge in his parents’s arms, and peace settles into the room.

In that simple island father I saw one of the most precious pictures of our heavenly Father. His heart was so bound up with his little boy that every pang of pain that touched his son reflected keenly in his face. It was as if he felt the pain. But as much as it hurt him to see, he wouldn’t let go for anything. The more it hurt the tighter he grasped his son’s little hand.

I often wish for the nightmare of sin to be over, but as I quietly observed in that little clinic, it dawned on me just how much He must long for it to be over. Every pang of pain felt by one of His children on earth is felt just as keenly in His heart. He is touched by the feeling of our infirmities, and in all our afflictions He is afflicted. (Heb. 4:15, Isa. 63:9) That is so much pain it is impossible to fully comprehend.

But the operation did finally come to an end, and the relief we all felt when it was finished was a delightful little preview of the peace that will settle over the universe when sin is forever ended and we can take refuge in our Father’s arms.

“The great controversy is ended. Sin and sinners are no more. The entire universe is clean. One pulse of harmony and gladness beats through the vast creation. From Him who created all, flow life and light and gladness, throughout the realms of illimitable space. From the minutest atom to the greatest world, all things, animate and inanimate, in their unshadowed beauty and perfect joy, declare that God is love.” GC 678

My Little Role Models

Birds. They're such little things... especially to be role models! But that's just what they've become to me. I admire them.

Sitting on the porch this morning, I listened to the sounds of nature coming to life. The clear, mellifluous voices of robins echoed from the hills, mingling with the tiny, sweet voices of chickadees singing their spring songs. As I listened, I was filled with a desire to be like them. Put in human terms, birds have a depth of character that can be rivaled by few.

• They are always full of vibrant, bubbling activity, yet they're never too busy to stop and pour out their delight in a torrent of exuberant song.
• Whatever He calls them to do, they do it with all their might. Whether nest-building, searching for food, or just praising.
• They retire on His time-frame, and when they wake to His call, their first priority is praise.
• Sometimes all I know of a bird is its song. When I hear a little voice emanating from the depths of a tree and try to catch a glimpse of the tiny chorister, I usually never see it. If I do, it is often just a simple little ball of plain brown feathers... a precious reminder that it is not the bird's plumage but its praise that makes it beautiful.
• Birds sing whether they have a beautiful voice or not. I heard a duck quacking with as much energy as the robin this morning. And it was beautiful, because it was giving all it had, with all it had! It is not the voice but the heart that makes a beautiful song.

I could go on, but suffice it to say that I admire my little role models. It amazes me that such a tiny bit of life can set such a high standard. (Yes, there's another lesson...)

I'm beginning to see why our Savior specifically told us to "consider the ravens" (Lk. 12:24), and I'm sure they'll be the subject of even more fruitful thought for many mornings to come.