I’ve got a very painful heartache this morning.

I’m broken for the broken.
Crying for those who no longer cry.
Hurting for those devalued, feeling unloved.
Empty Christian shells without joy.
Desperately needing love.
Little girls and boys behind grown-up eyes.
Drying up. Crying out. Is there hope?
I love them.
I want them to know the love I’ve found.
I . . .
I can’t do this alone.
I can’t fix the lack of love.
There are thousands, tens of thousands, millions of them.
They sit in Bible class with us.
They check our groceries.
They walk the streets, homeless.
They live in man-made mansions.
They’re everywhere.
They’re single.
They’re married.
They’ve got relationships galore, but remain alone.
They hide behind destructive behavior.
They mask the emptiness with productivity or success.
They just want to be loved!
Believers and unbelievers alike.
I feel so broken.
I weep.
Oh God, how can I do any good?
The need is so desperate and vast.
I am only one.
Shall I stay at home and cry in my robe?
What can I do or try?
Should I blog this heartache of mine?
Or is it way too personal?
“How can they hear without a preacher,” You say.
Oh God, give me a megaphone!!!
Help me love them.
Love them all.
 

Suffering~God’s Purpose for Me

I don’t wanna!! I don’t like it. Why does it have to hurt and disturb the core of my being? I must accept it. The following is from my devotional this morning:

The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me. (Ps. 138:8)

There is a divine mystery in suffering, one that has a strange and supernatural power and has never been completely understood by human reason. No one has ever developed a deep level of spirituality or holiness without experiencing a great deal of suffering. When a person who suffers reaches a point where he can be calm and carefree, inwardly smiling at his own suffering, and no longer asking God to be delivered from it, then the suffering has accomplished its blessed ministry, perseverance has “finish[ed] its work” (James 1:4), and the pain of the Crucifixion has begun to weave itself into a crown.

It is in this experience of complete suffering that the Holy Spirit works many miraculous things deep within our soul. In this condition, our entire being lies perfectly still under the hand of God; every power and ability of the mind, will, and heart are at last submissive; a quietness of eternity settles into the entire soul; and finally, the mouth becomes quiet, having only a few words to say, and stops crying out the words Christ quoted on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Ps. 22:1).

At this point the person stops imagining castles in the sky, and pursuing foolish ideas, and his reasoning becomes calm and relaxed, with all choices removed, because the only choice has now become the purpose of God. Also, his emotions are weaned away from other people and things, becoming deadened so that nothing can hurt, offend, hinder, or get in his way. He can now let the circumstances be what they may, and continue to seek only God and His will, with the calm assurance that He is causing everything in the universe, whether good or bad, past or present, to work “for the good of those who love him” (Rom. 8:28).

Oh, the blessings of absolute submission to Christ! What a blessing to lose our own strength, wisdom, plans, and desires and to be where every ounce of our being becomes like a peaceful Sea of Galilee under the omnipotent feet of Jesus!

From Streams in the Desert

Come Lord Jesus, into our storm and calm us.