In which it turns out I’m Rachel

“Give me children, or I shall die!”

This was Rachel’s (albeit irrational) plea to her husband Jacob after waiting nearly a decade to marry her love, and watching her sister bear him four sons while she stood by barren. Obviously, Jacob was helpless to fulfill his desperate wife’s demands. In frustration he replied, “Am I in the place of God, who has withheld from you the fruit of your womb?”

Like Sarah, who you may recall I have long-considered my kindred-spirit among the barren women of the Bible, Rachel takes matters into her own hands and has Jacob bear her children through her servant.

It doesn’t say the amount of time, but judging from what looks like a fairly smooth succession of Rachel’s sister Leah’s birthing several children (herself and through her own servant), I would estimate it was at least ten years of fruitlessness for Rachel before this magical verse just pops up out of no where:

“Then God remembered Rachel, and God listened to her and opened her womb.”

Rachel became pregnant and birthed Joseph. Not long after, she had Benjamin as well. What a beautiful story of waiting and hope.

But also, what’s up with that? In one verse, with no special explanation or plan like we can see more clearly for women Sarah or Elizabeth, God just decides to open Rachel’s womb. And now, apparently, she can have kids no problem. So long, infertility.

rachelThis is a verse I read right before I learned that I was pregnant with my son after years of infertility that couldn’t be explained. The lesson is unmistakeable, and one we often mention to people when we share our story — God is the One who opens and closes the womb. We trust Him with this decision. We’ve learned to stop asking “Why?” We gained so much peace and closure through this truth. I don’t know why we went through that. Everyone always tries to figure out it — to diagnose the undiagnosed and explain what is veiled. I assume this is because they want to find a way to be sure it won’t happen to them — I’m a special case, and they are probably in the clear. But I’m not a special case. Rachel wasn’t a special case. God is the God of all things — even the womb. He chooses the time when he opens it, when he closes it, and the reasons. Some of us may know these reasons now, some of us may know someday, and some never will.

It was with this peace and trust, learned after months of agony, that my husband and I read, with great astonishment, a second positive pregnancy test, just five months after our son was born. —Wait, what?!— we asked again, like we did with Rachel’s story. How can that happen? Years of toil for the first, and zero toil with the second. Could it be that I’m not just Sarah, I’m Rachel? God opened my womb in His time and for His reasons?

Yes, believe it or not (I cannot!), I am writing this post five months pregnant with our second child. This time we barely had time to pray for a child. Never in a million years did we think we would feel “surprised” by a pregnancy. We worked so hard to be content with no children, and were so overwhelmed with gratitude to just have one — we had hardly prepared our hearts for the possibility that we would have more, and with ease.

And I hope this encourages you today. I know there’s a chance it can break your heart. But I hope you can take peace in the reality that God is ultimately sovereign over your womb, and He can open it when He wants. He may not open it… but He really may. And you may never know why, but you can trust His decision, before and after.

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What’s so great about heaven

This is probably going to sound a little weird, but through my Christian life I have always lacked an excitement or interest in heaven. It’s not that I don’t care at all, but I’ve probably been overreacting to other things — the fact that many people become Christians just for the assurance of heaven (“fire insurance”); this vision I have of grumpy old men in church, trudging through life singing “When the Roll is Called Up Yonder” and just waiting for the day we can get out of this place and away from these people and to our secret club in the sky. It often seems selfish to me — singing about all the rewards and benefits we’ll get. The Bible says a lot more about us spending eternity worshipping God. People should focus on that, I’d think smugly. It’s also maybe been a little difficult for me to get excited about — it feels so distant, and so abstract at times. All we seem to have are ideas, and lots of false ones (e.g. harps, and wings, and becoming all-knowing). I believe in heaven, I’m thankful for it, but I’ve never been one to dwell on it much.

heb13However, for some reason over the last few years, thoughts of heaven have started to force themselves on me. The ideas I read in scripture stick in my heart, and at just the right, healthy moments, they pop up. When we returned to America after our first few years overseas, for example, and I sadly realized we no longer fit in either place perfectly — my mind said, “You’re citizenship is in heaven.” Hm. I hadn’t really appreciated what that meant before.

I’m beginning to understand why people like to think, talk, and sing about heaven. I’m beginning to get what’s the big deal about it.

Imagine if this was all there was. Imagine if this was the best and the worst. You have these 80 years, give or take, and then – blackness. And what if you spent them in pain? In agony? What if you spend them childless? Cancerous? Homeless? And all that longing, all that aching, never had a hope. If it doesn’t get better now, it’ll never get better. If you don’t make this right, it’ll never be right.

Sometimes we feel like this is true. But for the follower of Christ, this is not true.

You do have hope.

Yes, you have hope that God will change your circumstances while on earth. He answers prayer and does amazing things. He has a plan for your life. But more than that — you have a standing hope and assurance that the end of the story is perfect. When you find your aching heart wondering, “When will this go away? When will this get better?” You have an answer: when I die or Christ returns, this will go away and get better. In heaven, it will be better.

Heaven is real, in time and place. It’s not just a nice idea. Your deepest longing will be fulfilled. Will you have the baby you didn’t have on earth? My understanding of scripture says probably not, but you will have your longing filled. Your aching will stop. Your joy will be full.

This is an amazing thought for us — most people and religions lack this concept (and all lack the assurance — some have the idea of a heaven, but don’t know if they’ll go there). My heart breaks for them. What a painfully hopeless life!

…That’s a tangent for another day. Today I want to encourage you to think about and grow your appreciation for heaven. We should have a balanced view — not living a life that is “so heavenly-minded that it’s no earthly good,” as I once heard a professor say. The Christian has heaven to look forward to, but a purpose to live on earth. Don’t check out yet. But if you’ve never allowed yourself to meditate on and accept the comforts of heaven, start opening your heart to it. Pray for a better understanding and a realistic hope.

Below are a few things (of many!) scripture says we have to look forward to in heaven. Would you take the time to appreciate what they really mean for you, in real life, today?

A citizenship and belonging – But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ…” -Philippians 3:20

A glorified, healed body – “…Jesus Christ, who will transform four lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.” -Philippians 3:21

A beautiful, permanent home to live in – “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?” -John 14:1-2

Endlessly worshipping the Lamb with all believers from all times and places – See Revelation 5:9-13

Comfort for your pain and mourning – He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” – Revelation 21:4

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Who is going to heaven? Not the good people or those who had hard lives or deaths. Not the well-meaning, well-liked, or hopeful. If you read this post and love the idea of heaven but have any doubt that you’ll definitely be going there, I would love to chat with you more on the subject. Please message me using the “Contact” button at the top of the page. 

Throwback Thursday: 10 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Infertility

Reposted from: January 20, 2014

This might seem kind of ironic for me to post, because I’m still in the midst of infertility. I guess a better title would be “Things I wish someone had told me from the beginning of my infertility so I didn’t have to learn them the hard way” …but that’s kind of long, so it is what it is. Plus, I know you people (I’m one of you), and if I had a baby you’d spend the whole post thinking, “That’s easy for her to say, she has her baby.” So no excuses now, my friends! 

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1. A lot of people have struggled with infertility.

Once you tell people about your struggle, women left and right begin to tell you about their previous struggles with trying to conceive. This is actually a big reason why you should tell people (see #8) – there is great comfort in knowing you aren’t alone. When we told my in-laws, my husband and I were both surprised to hear that his own mother struggled with infertility for 5 years between her third and fourth child. Besides gaining wisdom from people like this, it refreshes your hope to hear someone say, “I never thought I would finally get pregnant,” while her wild kids run around you.

2. It gets better.

As my months started to add up to a year, I began to sink. Specifically, from months 11-14, I was in a black pit of despair. I cried all the time and didn’t want to do anything. I was depressed and felt hopeless, in anguish at the reality that this fear was really coming true. I never could have imagined that the months ahead would hold light and peace, but they did. I wish so much I could go back, A-Christmas-Carol-style, and tell myself, crawled up and weeping, unable to pray, that it will be better. Of course, I can’t do that, so I’m telling you, dear weeper, instead: it will be better. Hang in there.

3. Bitterness, jealousy, anger, and fear are your biggest enemies, and they don’t get you anywhere.

When you enter infertility world (even if you enter kicking and screaming, like I did), you instantly discover that most people in this world are bitter. I hate to say it, but you can’t avoid it. Most people feel entitled to complain and are dead-set on being miserable until this is over. You need to rise above, or it’ll eat you alive and convince you (unbiblically) that you deserve that attitude as well.

4. It’s one step at a time.

You can’t plan from month 12 (or month 1, or month anything) every step you’re going to take in this. It’s one cycle at a time, one test at a time, one treatment at a time, one doctor’s visit at a time, maybe even one adoption application at a time. You will just fall apart if you try to think and plan much past that. Trust me.

5. It’s not a one-girl show.

One thing that really bugs me is when women retreat inward in their trial with barrenness. What about your husband? Yes, I know he probably doesn’t grieve like you, but he’s not a woman. He is human, so unless you were trying to force this baby without his agreement (which I sincerely hope you weren’t), he’s grieving too. This isn’t your trial alone, and you can’t push him out because his side of the trial looks different.

6. There are a million things to learn.

This is practical thing. I knew nothing about the world of trying to conceive, infertility, treatments, adoption, etc. I still don’t know a lot. When you get past the “denial” stage of this grief, the first thing you need to do is pray, then research and educate yourself. And following #5, don’t do it all alone – share what you learn with your husband. Make sure he’s at your appointments and consultations. Make decisions together. This isn’t 1952, girl; you aren’t trying to have your baby, you guys are in this together!

7. It’s complicated.

I guess this follows #4 and #6… if you’re at month 12, this isn’t a cut-and-dry, just do such-and-such and bam! you get a baby. If it was, you’d be pregnant already. Some people have success with the first treatment, but I wish from the start I was out of denial enough to accept that it probably wouldn’t be a let’s-just-do-this-and-get-it-other-with kind of thing. And enough of it not being fair because some people have it so easy. Everyone is on their own journey.

8. You should tell people.

It took a long time for my husband and me to start telling friends and family that we were having trouble getting pregnant. It was part denial, part pride, and part just being private people. But after we told some people – wow, what a relief! The Bible is spot on when it says to “bear one another’s burdens.” I can’t believe we tried to do all the praying ourselves! It made such a difference to have people pray, cry, hope, and wait with us. You don’t have to make a personal blog or status every step on Facebook, if that’s not your thing (it’s not ours); we’ve basically kept to sharing details with our closest friends and family, and when others take the time to ask about our situation, we say something simple like, “We haven’t been able to have children yet, but you can pray that we do soon.” Find what works for you, but don’t go it alone.

9. It’s worth it.

I know you don’t want to hear it, but you have to. This is worth it, my friend. Oh dear myself a year ago, this unending nightmare is worth far more than a child. “This light and momentary affliction” – that I know does not feel at all light or momentary – is “producing in us an eternal weight of glory that far outweighs them all.” The sanctification that will come from this would never have been obtained in any other way. The glory that God will get from this will far exceed the glory He would’ve gotten in any other scenario. Don’t forget that. Don’t lose sight of that. Tell yourself every day, every period, every miscarriage, every dollar sent to an adoption agency. This is worth it. This is the better plan.

10. There is always hope.

It’s weird for me to be saying this, because I haven’t been pregnant yet. However, I’ve gradually become convinced of this, and I wish I could tell it to every broken, barren woman. There is always hope! You serve The Omnipotent God, Who loves you so much and has a great plan for your life! There is always hope for real peace and joy – and, I have to say it – there is always hope for a baby!  I don’t care what the doctors or tests say, or how long the adoption is taking. If you really believe God made a virgin pregnant, surely He can leap over the fact that you guys accidently got your days messed up and “did it” a day after ovulation. Surely He can work around your “advanced age.” Surely He can use your husband’s low sperm count. If you believe the Bible is true (and it is!), you must believe that what He did for Sarah, and Hannah, and Elizabeth, He is able to do for you. I just want you, in your hopelessness, to join me in repeating as much as you need – There is always hope. There is always hope. There is always hope.

Throwback Thursday: What if God never says “Yes”?

As days turn into months and then years, it’s the question that starts lurking in the back of your mind but you’re afraid to really ask out loud. What if God never says “yes”? The Psalmist asked it, in Psalm 77: “Will the Lord reject forever? Will He never show His favor again?” It’s a fair question, but one with tough answers. On the one hand, you hear people say statistics about how high of a percentage (67?) of people who get help for infertility eventually get a baby. And a friend read in a book that a man who has worked in the adoption field for decades said he has never seen a couple who is praying for a child eventually not somehow get a child. Even Psalm 77 answers its own question by citing all the miraculous and faithful things God has done in the past, presumably awarding trust that God will surely do them again.

And these things may be true. But I’m a realist, and do you know what else is true? There are surely people in the world and in all of history that have waited and tried everything and waited more, and they never became parents. And I could be one of them. If we’re honest, deep down every fertility-challenged woman is, somewhere inside, freaking out at least a little that she could be one of those women. And then what?

Then this is what: God is still good and faithful and trustworthy. He does not disappoint. He is still loving and almighty and worthy of all praise. We have still been blessed from the first day to the last. His grace upon grace is overwhelming and sufficient, and He has never failed. We will still serve and worship Him until our dying day and forevermore. As we’ve said in the valley and will say on the mountain, God’s goodness is not dependent on the things we get; moreover, our hope for joy in life and our greatest treasure is not found in children, or money, or things, or safety, or whatever else we are seeking. Our hope is in Christ, and when we have Him, all other things are but a dim shadow compared to knowing and serving and loving Him. So praise be to God, even if He never says “yes” to this one thing. And praise be to God that we knew this truth in the valley, so we did not waste our lives working and waiting and putting everything into this one thing that never came to be. Instead we put our everything into eternal things that will never be destroyed. If God says “no” forever — and He might — praise be to God, forever and ever.

I would like to invite you to read one of my all-time favorite Bible stories, in Daniel 3. This is a true story of three noble servants of God who were going to be thrown into an oven for refusing to worship other gods. When given a chance to change their minds, they proudly proclaimed that they know God can save them and believe He will, “but even if He does not, we still won’t worship your gods” — and the BUT IF NOT is where the rubber meets the road, so to speak, in your faith. May God daily give you and me a heart like those men.

daniel 3

Reposted from September 13, 2013

The fruit that grew when I was barren

 

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This is probably going to read like a summary of this whole blog, but it is what it is. My baby boy turns 12 weeks on Monday, and every.single.day. I still look at him and can’t believe he is here and he is my baby. I can’t believe that happened to us — which is ironic, because in our years of infertility I would so often think, I can’t believe this is happening to us. But he’s here. A living and breathing testament of the hardest season in our life so far, and of the faithfulness of God in mercifully bringing us through it.

I once thought after all of this was over, I would just put it behind me and finally move forward with our life. I’ll get over it and move on. Surprisingly (or not), I can’t really get over it. I mean, I’m not obsessed with it. I’m not always talking about it. I’m not about to become the Infertility Awareness spokeswoman. But there’s no denying that it’s a part of me. How can it not be? I’ve written over and over about how this is a sanctifying work. If it changed me so much (and boy, did it!), how could I ever just forget about it? It’s so clear to me now how much this trial reshaped me.

If for nothing else than my own reflection, I’d like to share with you some of the biggest lessons I learned in my infertility. 

1. This isn’t my baby. When I was about 9 weeks pregnant, my husband and I were casually preparing to go out to dinner with some friends. Out of nowhere, I discovered I was bleeding pretty heavily. Panic washed over me like never in my life. I screamed for my husband and broke down sobbing. We prayed hard, pleading with God not to take this baby yet. I remembered calling out, Father, you may ask a miscarriage of me some day with some baby, but please don’t make it today or this baby. I ended up on bed rest for a month, and, obviously, God was merciful and our baby was fine.Quote1

Now that he’s here, like all mothers, I spend a silly amount of time sneaking in to check on him while he sleeps. Our first few nights home, he slept like a rock, but we lost tons of sleep jumping up every 10 minutes to make sure he was ok. I still pop up a few times a night just to peek over and see his chest moving. The scary thought has crossed my mind a few times: What if I come in one day and he’s not breathing? 

The lesson from both of these stories, and every other worry my new-mom mind conjures up about his life, is the same lesson I learned when I was waiting for him. This is not my baby. We are daily Abraham standing with his long-awaited Isaac, ready to give him back to the Lord whenever He may require it. Of course we could stand here close-fisted, in constant terror that we could lose this dear treasure at any moment. But instead we’ve learned (and continue to learn) to hold him up, hands open and arms lifted, an offering to the Lord. There is so much more peace in this. This is the Lord’s baby, and we trust Him to do with him as he wishes.

2. Compassion. I’m a little embarrassed to say I used to be a pretty compassionless person. I think I had compassion on the really poor and needy, but with the everyday person like me, I just didn’t care that much about their problems. I probably cared about my friends’ troubles, but if I was honest, I didn’t care that deeply. But now that I’ve had true troubles of my own, He has transformed the way I think about what others may be going through. I’m less quick to judge. I cry more easily at their pain. I’m more patient with their struggles. I’ve stopped gauging how serious I think someone’s trial is — if it’s really that bad. If it’s that bad to them, then it’s that bad. It was that bad to me. I regret that this wasn’t my heart sooner, but I’m grateful the Lord has brought me here.

3. God is trustworthy. This is one of the first thoughts that crossed my mind when we saw that surprise positive pregnancy test. Wow, He actually did it! All that time I was hoping He would — I was trusting He would — but there was no way to be sure He would. Having that confirmation has totally changed the way I pray and how I see Him. I thought I had faith in prayer before, but now it is no longer blind faith — I know that He can do it. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I remember thinking that morning that, even if He took the baby the very next day, this would change everything. It was no longer praying and getting back silence. He had heard and acted for us. And now I know He could do that again, about anything else we ask of Him. This has changed our relationship with Him so much.

Quote24. Nothing is hopeless & impossible things can happen. Like many of you, l bet, last summer we sat in a fertility clinic across from a doctor who calculated the percent likelihood we had of conceiving a child on our own. I kind of forget now (it’s not the kind of thing you store up in your heart), but I think it was something like 9%. Now, my husband is in economics, so he’s a little more knowledgable about statistics — in fact, him not liking the way the doctor “tweaked” his math to come up with that number was a big reason we changed clinics. Nevertheless, we knew our odds were looking grim. It only looked worse when our treatments later failed. But then one day, we were pregnant. It happened. By all calculations, it wasn’t likely. But it did. Since then whenever we’re asked to pray for seemingly impossible things, I am so much more optimistic (read: faith-filled) — I was there when it wasn’t supposed to happen, and I was there when it did. So why couldn’t it happen again?

6. Really terrible things can happen to me. I guess this is kind of a strange thing to call “fruit,” but I see it as part of a sober mindset. Knowing how to “number my days” and have an accurate estimation of my life as a vapor. We always think it won’t be us. God wouldn’t do that to us. I wouldn’t be the one whose baby dies from SIDS. My husband wouldn’t be the one who becomes a paraplegic. My mom wouldn’t be the one who gets horrible cancer. “God forbid,” we say. But God may not forbid, if it’s for our better. For the sake of making me more like Christ, nothing is off limits. The first step in handling it well is not living in denial of its likelihood.

7. My treasure is in Christ. Oh, the blog posts I could write about this! I wrestled so much with the desire to have children as my inheritance from the Lord. There were many days when there was nothing else I desired. How much I needed to learn that Christ is my inheritance. Christ is my treasure. In Christ we have everything we could ever want or need. I used to claim I believed that, but it wasn’t until I wasn’t going to have children — an idol I didn’t know I had; the thing deep down I really wanted and needed — that I learned it was really true. It wasn’t until Christ was all I had, that I truly knew He is all I need. I’ve been wanting a post about this image I always see on Pinterest, which I have come to, well, kind of despise:

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I hate this.

NO! We have long had everything, because we had Christ.

First we had nothing.

Then we had everything in Christ.

Then everything else was undeserved mercy.

Including you.  

…But I guess that doesn’t look as cute in a nursery.

Throwback Thursday: Getting Our Hopes Up

Last week Luke 18 came up in my daily Bible reading, and my heart leapt as gem after gem came up in stories throughout the chapter. […] One short story is as follows…

As [Jesus] drew near to Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging. And hearing a crowd going by, he inquired what this meant. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” And he cried out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And those who were in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” And Jesus stopped and commanded him to be brought to Him. And when he came near, He asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” He said, “Lord, let me recover my sight.” And Jesus said to him, “Recover your sight; your faith has made you well.” And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.faith

You may be familiar with the many times in scripture when Jesus says someone is healed because of his or her faith, and this story is just another example of that [see links to more examples at the end of this post]. It caused me to immediately consider my own faith. Later, I asked my husband his thoughts on what it really means to have faith, especially in this time of waiting for a child. If you asked me, I would have said something like, “Believing God can do this.” My husband considered it, and, being the Bible scholar that he is, pointed me first to Hebrews 11:1, which, thankfully, defines faith for us: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not yet seen.”

We discussed this verse a little more, but it wasn’t until later that day that I really grasped the concept. We were talking about something that may happen next month, and my husband said something about “if we are pregnant…” Now, I don’t know about you, but several months into this trial, I started to refrain myself from speaking or thinking in expectation like this. I slowly stopped pinning things to my secret “Baby” board on Pinterest, and tried to stop factoring this “maybe baby” into our future plans. So, as I had been doing for sometime, I corrected him and said something like, “if we do, but we probably won’t.” He immediately pointed out how that way of speaking shows a lack of faith, which we had discussed earlier. “But I just get scared… I don’t want to get our hopes up,” I replied. To which he said, “Well, Hebrews 11:1 says that faith is the assurance of things hoped for… faith is getting your hopes up.”

This really impacted me. As a result, I have been intentionally trying to think and act in a way that better reflects the faith I have and want to have. […] I don’t believe special actions like posting nurseries on Pinterest or starting to say “If we’re pregnant next month…” again will in any way earn God’s “yes.” However, I encourage you to consider how you, like the blind man, can better think, speak, and act in faith. Please share your thoughts in the comments, as well as the little ways you have kept yourself from “getting your hopes up.”

Some others who were healed because of faith:

The Centurion’s Servant

The Paralytic

The Woman with the Issue of Blood

Another Blind Man

Reposted from August 29, 2013.

A prayer for the disappointed

Rachel Wojo posted this prayer recently, and I know disappointment is one of the major emotions that presents itself in infertility. Perhaps today, or in the coming days, you will be able to pray this rich prayer.

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The Ground of my life, the Spring of my hope

I read this truly beautiful masterpiece of a prayer from The Valley of Vision during my devotional time this morning. I just had to share — its many truths really pierced my heart. I bolded some of my favorite lines, but truly I love all of it!

Which lines stand out to you the most?

“Glorious Jehovah, my Covenant God,

All Thy promises in Christ Jesus are yea and amen,
and all shall be fulfilled.
Thou hast spoken them, and they shall be done,
commanded, and they shall come to pass.

Yet I have often doubted Thee,
have lived at times as if there were no God.
Lord, forgive me that death in life,
when I have found something apart from Thee,
when I have been content with ephemeral things.

But through Thy grace I have repented;
Thou hast given me to read my pardon in the wounds of Jesus,
and my soul doth trust in Him, my God incarnate,
the ground of my life,
the spring of my hope.

Teach me to be resigned to Thy will,
to delight in Thy law,
to have no will but Thine,
to believe that everything Thou doest is for my good.

Help me to leave my concerns in Thy hands,
for Thou hast power over evil,
and bringest from it an infinite progression of good,
until Thy purposes are fulfilled.

Bless me with Abraham’s faith
that staggers not at promises through unbelief.
May I not instruct Thee in my troubles,
but glorify Thee in my trials.

Grant me a distinct advance in the divine life;
May I reach a higher platform,
leave the mists of doubt and fear in the valley,
and climb to hill-tops of eternal security in Christ
by simply believing He cannot lie,
or turn from His purpose.

Give me the confidence I ought to have in Him
who is worthy to be praised,
and who is blessed forevermore.”

P.S. If you previously enjoyed this book or have been liking my posts from it, it may be of interest to you that you can buy the audio book on CD! So you can listen and meditate in your car, while working at home, or anywhere you want! 

Encouragement from the Psalms

Some quiet words of encouragement from the book of Psalms. Click each picture to read the full Psalm.

psalm 2

psalm 3

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