Name:Amy Country:United States State:Florida Metro:Fort Myers Gender:Female
Interests:baseball, literature, British Navy during the Napoleonic Wars, writing, punk music, law, politics Expertise:writing, talking, editing Occupation:Student Industry:Education/Research
In The Pursuit of God, A.W. Tozer described faith as "the gaze of the soul at God." He described the joy of those who discover the delights of spending their lives inwardly gazing at God, their nourishment and strength.
I believe this idea is missed by many, if not all, who have not yet come to faith in Christ. They seem to see faith as staring at nothing, blind trust in oxygen. The truth that believers come to know, once they choose Christ, is that their gaze has an object, that once God brings our souls to life, we are able to see Him with our spiritual eyes. We are far from looking at nothing; we realize that we are looking at the most Real thing that has ever existed.
Of course, as humans, we see through a glass darkly, and Satan fights to obscure our view. Sometime we can see with more clarity than at other times. Faith means that we continue to gaze, even when darkness all but eclipses our view of Christ. It is an ongoing choice, a battle we wage to look unblinkingly on our Lord no matter what comes our way.
That is my desire this new year, to gaze at God. It's the goal of my tomorrow and the goal of my next fifty years. To focus my soul's attention on Him. I don't have lofty ambitions, though there are certainly things I hope some day to do and accomplish. All those things are nothing compared to this one goal. I want to be single-minded as I look upon His beauty, grace, and majesty, my attention taken by Him in every circumstance.
Happy, unbelievably happy, is the person whose life is consumed with gazing at God. What a privilege to be able to focus our lives on the One who gave His life for us and in whom all beauty and grace find their origins. I can't imagine a new year's goal I'd rather have.
Stop looking at the gray sidewalk tiles, the monochrome cloudy sky that screams another day come to suck the blood from your anemic veins.
Stop weeping for the crusty bread that used to taste full and new, but now fills your mouth with dust and your stomach with ash.
Stop screaming in the circle, the one-way street that endlessly paves your life with dull pain that throbs in sameness.
Look, for He has come! The Color that fills the world with life. The Bread that never ceases satisfying. The Road that breaks the circle.
He has come, and time, and life, and Here, This Place, this Ever-Needy World will never be the same. He is here, and our endless winter of night is swallowed up in the glowing warmth of hope. He is here, and the tiny, perfect hand becomes the hand that takes the nail to pierce the sins that weigh us down. He is here, and we can fly.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
James 1:12 Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.
This is a follow-up to my post that is currently on Revelife, about God's ultimate plan to make our pain into glory.
I'm struck by the fact that very few comments, even those by Christians, seem to agree that God endures our pain with us or allows it for a purpose. I am following up with more of my own story in order to explain why I believe both of those things. When I say "pain," I am referring to both physical and emotional pain, but the emotional pain has been much greater.
In 2003, I was diagnosed with inflammatory bowel disease, and complications resulted in a year of repeated hospital stays, surgeries, and major pain. Even more painful than the physical symptoms was the fact that my life was completely changed. I went through depression, apathy, anger, all the stages of grief for the life that died. Six years have passed, and sure enough, my life has never been the same. I had one year of remission, but in the other five, I probably haven't had a day without pain.
I wouldn't give up a single day of it. Not one single day. Why?
During this time of pain and incapacitation, God has revealed His love to me in ways I can't fully express. He has shown me His personal love for ME, His tenderness, His willingness to literally wrap His arms around me when I am at my lowest point. He has walked with me daily and shown me how to be His friend. He has held me and taught me and made me smile. He's become my everything. He took a broken, frightened child and healed the wounded parts of my heart.
Before my illness, I was extremely driven and stressed out and insecure. Now I am calm, more compassionate, and able to enjoy the world around me.
When I talk about pain's reward, I often mention the things coming in heaven, and surely they are many and beautiful. But my rewards aren't all waiting for me up there. I've experienced them right here. Without my illness, I have absolutely no doubt that I wouldn't know God the way I do now. I wouldn't have the tender, precious relationship I enjoy with my Father. I also wouldn't be the peaceful, emotionally functional person I am now.
Even if there were no more rewards coming, the things I've experienced would be completely worth it because of God's gifts to me, precious, personal, tender gifts of lavish love that He's already given and continues to give. The amazing thing is that I know the rewards coming in heaven are even greater. I can't even imagine.
As for God enduring my pain with me? I can't adequately describe in words the experience of being at my lowest point and feeling the literal, physical presence of God take me and cuddle me close. There is nothing like that Peace, the Prince of Peace Himself. It's a presence that whispers, "I know exactly what you're going through. I'm here with you, and you'll never walk alone."
I have no doubt that pain's rewards are matchless. I've already experienced more of them than I could have ever dreamed. If you're enduring pain of any kind, I believe God wants to give you the best gift of all-Himself, more wonderful than you've ever dreamed.
When I was little, we used to travel to different relatives' houses for Christmas, so we traditionally opened gifts on my mother's birthday, which is the 17th of December. When we started going to college and didn't get home as early or stayed home for Christmas, we opened gifts on Christmas Day. Now that I live at home and my sister has moved north, we open gifts on Christmas Eve and stockings on Christmas Day. Clearly, we're pretty chill about the exact moment, as long as we get to be together and enjoy the family. We're also one of those families that takes it slow and watches every person open every gift and takes pictures while it's in progress. (I recommend this. You'll be glad you did it later on when your kids aren't kids any more.)
When does your family open gifts, and do you have any specific rituals attached to it?
