When Trials Come

When trials come no longer fear

For in the pain our God draws near

To fire a faith worth more than gold

And there His faithfulness is told

And there His faithfulness is told

Within the night I know Your peace

The breath of God brings strength to me

And new each morning mercy flows

As treasures of the darkness grow

As treasures of the darkness grow

I turn to Wisdom not my own

For every battle You have known

My confidence will rest in You

Your love endures Your ways are good

Your love endures Your ways are good

When I am weary with the cost

I see the triumph of the cross

So in it’s shadow I shall run

Till You complete the work begun

Till You complete the work begun

One day all things will be made new

I’ll see the hope You called me to

And in your kingdom paved with gold

I’ll praise your faithfulness of old

I’ll praise your faithfulness of old

Keith & Kristyn Getty

Sometimes I wonder if pride or selfishness could be called the root of all sin. Money is cited as being that, but isn't even the love of money based on the root of selfishness? I am amazed at how many things I can take pride in... Not the good "I'm proud of you son!" pride, but rather the slithering permeating pride that may only manifest itself on the outside as "humility". The best part is I think I'm being humble the entire time! 

I found that I can even take pride in what God has done.

Trials come to all of us. If we overcome them, we are lauded as great heroes. If we fail, depending on the seeming epicness of the fail, we are either shunned or we refer to it as our stumbling block. 

Heroes. That sounds so nice! "Yeah, I, uh, went through this trial, and, well, I responded thusly and smote the FLAMING ARROWS OF THE DEVIL!!!!" Toss some Bible verses in there and you'll be the model for the next Captain Bible comic book. 

Here's the thing, maybe we don't actually do that. Verbally, we give all of the glory to God. It's not our mouth that directly worships God. It is our heart. Our attitudes and motives. Even though we can completely acknowledge when it comes down to it that surviving that trial had nothing to do with us and it was God alone, we are still inclined to congratulate ourselves.

It may not even be an immediate response. In my personal life, I never really told people about the situation for a few months. It was when I began to enjoy telling it to everyone I met that the pride started to sneak in. Did you know sin feels really good going down? And then it gives you the worst heartburn. Then we run for our gracious Savior for forgiveness, which He so freely gives. 

Our trials are not all about us. James 1 tells us to count it all joy when we are in temptations (trials) because this produces the fruit of patience. 1 Corinthians 10:13 says "there hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it." The faithfulness does not have anything to with us, but rather the grace of God.

It's kinda like walking into the Louvre and standing next to the Mona Lisa and insisting that you painted it. That seems ridiculous, yet this is how our pride is.

Because of Him,
Missa

O Sacred Head

O Sacred head now wounded with grief and cares bowed down. 

I love to imagine and picture what it was like during the events depicted in the Bible. This past Sunday evening, my church remembered the Lord's Supper. For some reason, my mind tends to track to the disciples and their sorrow, shock, and fear. Can you imagine?  All of their hope, gone. In an evening, a moment, a kiss. It was over. The Bible clearly shows that, even though Christ told them over and over, they did not understand the forthcoming death and the resurrection to follow. 

Perhaps this is a strange question, but what did Christ have going through His mind during his last few days and hours?  I began this post with a line from a well known hymn, and I am wondering if it is correct...  How did Christ look? When my God was there on the cross bearing my sins, how did his expression communicate to those around Him His true thoughts?

Pain, certainly, was there. A physical pain. The torture surrounding the final execution on the cross would've almost killed a person. Almost. I cannot imagine, nor even attempt to describe this pain. 

I wonder if you could look in His eyes and see the love and compassion that He had.  He cries out "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!" Luke 23:34. He did not send a bitter look at the Pharisees standing off in their mock righteousness, nor did He only ask forgiveness for their sins, but also for the sins of everyone there. This would include the faithful few followers who stayed at His cross.

Perhaps grief was there. Imagine the pain of rejection of all but a few of your closest friends. To be killed by strangers. Even more acutely, perhaps, the rejection of His Father. To have a part of the Trinity be ripped from the other two is unfathomable. Because sin is so awful, our perfect Holy God could not even look at His Own Son as all of the sin from every person throughout time was laid directly on our Redeemer Lamb. To be rejected by friends and family is one thing, to be rejected by God is the epitome of despair.

But I also wonder, during His last few moments, was there a look of confidence, of victory? John 19:31 records the final words of our Savior "it is finished." As the Devil crowed with delight at the death of his enemy, was there a slight smile that decried the winner as being the One hanging on the tree?

I've seen many paintings of Christ on the cross and, almost exclusively, they show a defeated Christ with no hope. When I imagine my Christ, I see my victorious Hero who has brought hope to the world.

He did all of this, just for the sake of allowing us miserable creatures into His heaven! It is purely our own fault that we needed a Savior, yet He gives of Himself. No man took His life, He freely gave it up for our sake, John 10.

Because of Him,
Missa