My goal is God Himself, not joy nor peace, Nor even blessing, but Himself, my God.
Am I measuring my life by this standard or by something less?
Walk into any forest after a great storm and you will find the same thing on the ground: not the smallest trees, but often some of the tallest. The ones that reached highest and grew fastest, the ones that looked the most impressive against the sky — these are frequently the ones lying on their side with their roots torn out of the earth, because they spent all their strength climbing and never sent anything down. The storm does not measure the height of a tree. It measures the depth.
Scripture's picture of the blessed man is never one who grows fast. It is one who grows down. "His delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night. And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither." — Psalm 1:2-3. Planted. Rooted. Fed by an unseen stream. And Jeremiah paints the same tree with the storm already in view: "Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord... for he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not see when heat cometh... neither shall cease from yielding fruit." — Jeremiah 17:7-8. The drought comes. The heat comes. And the deep-rooted tree does not even notice, because its life is not drawn from the weather. It is drawn from the water it reached long before the sky went dry.
This is God's design for every believer. "Rooted and built up in Him, and stablished in the faith." — Colossians 2:7. "That ye, being rooted and grounded in love." — Ephesians 3:17. The Word is always the same. Before God builds anything up, He sends something down.
“He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap; He seats them with princes and has them inherit a throne of honor.” — 1 Samuel 2:8. Hannah prayed that after years of barrenness and public humiliation. It is not poetry. It is testimony. The God of the Bible is not a God who merely comforts people in the dust. He is a God who reaches into the dust and lifts. The world has one word for a man who has been through devastation: finished. Scripture has a different word: down. Down is not finished. Down is a position, not an identity. “For though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again, but the wicked stumble when calamity strikes.” — Proverbs 24:16. Read that carefully. The mark of the righteous is not that they never fall. The mark of the righteous is that they get up — seven times, and again after that. The difference between the righteous and the wicked in that verse is not the falling. It is the rising. And the prophet Micah, sitting in the wreckage of a nation under judgment, threw a defiance at his enemy that every believer should learn by heart: “Do not gloat over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will rise. Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light.” — Micah 7:8. Not I have risen. Not I feel like rising. I will rise — declared from the floor, in the dark, with nothing in hand but the character of God.
There is a particular quality to the air in a place that has been through fire. Not the romantic fire of a hearth or a campsite — but the kind that consumes entire cities, that levels what generations built, that leaves a landscape so altered it is almost unrecognizable to the people who once called it home. Vietnam knows that kind of fire. Walking through this country today — through the streets of cities that were once reduced to rubble, past a countryside that absorbed some of the heaviest bombardment in the history of modern warfare — you are walking through what came after. You are walking through the after-ashes.
And what you find is not what the logic of destruction would predict. You find life. You find rebuilding. You find a nation that absorbed one of the most devastating conflicts of the twentieth century — a war that consumed Americans and Vietnamese alike, that shattered families on both sides of the Pacific, that left an entire generation carrying wounds that no government program and no passage of time has ever fully healed — and kept going. The question that this place forces on every honest observer is not simply historical. It is profoundly personal. How does anything — a nation, a soul, a life — rise from ashes? What makes the difference between the ruins that stay ruins and the ruins that become something new?
There is a posture that God invites every believer into — and most of us spend our entire lives fighting it. Not because we are wicked or faithless, but because the world has trained us, from our very first breath, to grip things tightly. To scheme, to strive, to press, to worry, to manufacture outcomes through sheer force and anxiety. The world calls this wisdom. And it has produced in the hearts of God’s people a deep, chronic, soul-wearying strain that was never part of His original design for us.
Jesus said it plainly, without qualification, to people living in conditions far more precarious than most of us will ever face: “Do not worry about your life.” — Matthew 6:25.
There is a thread that runs through all of Scripture — a pattern so consistent that once you see it, you cannot unsee it. It is not the pattern the world expects. It is not the pattern even the religious establishment of any given era expected. It is this: God does not choose the way man chooses. He does not select the powerful, the credentialed, the connected, or the ones whose résumé impresses the room. He reaches past the inner circle, past the halls of influence, past the people who have built their identity on being in — and He finds the one standing at the edges. The outsider. And He changes the world through them.
My goal is God Himself, not joy nor peace, Nor even blessing, but Himself, my God.
Am I measuring my life by this standard or by something less?
We are all capable of being spiritually lazy saints. We want to stay off the rough roads of life, and our primary objective is to secure a peaceful retreat from the world. The ideas put forth in these verses from Hebrews 10 are those of stirring up one another and of keeping ourselves together. Both of these require initiative— our willingness to take the first step toward Christ-realization, not the initiative toward self-realization. To live a distant, withdrawn, and secluded life is diametrically opposed to spirituality as Jesus Christ taught it.
The true test of our spirituality occurs when we come up against injustice, degradation, ingratitude, and turmoil, all of which have the tendency to make us spiritually lazy. While being tested, we want to use prayer and Bible reading for the purpose of finding a quiet retreat. We use God only for the sake of getting peace and joy. We seek only our enjoyment of Jesus Christ, not a true realization of Him. This is the first step in the wrong direction. All these things we are seeking are simply effects, and yet we try to make them causes.
“Yes, I think it is right,” Peter said, “. . . to stir you up by reminding you . . .” (2 Peter 1:13). It is a most disturbing thing to be hit squarely in the stomach by someone being used of God to stir us up— someone who is full of spiritual activity. Simple active work and spiritual activity are not the same thing. Active work can actually be the counterfeit of spiritual activity. The real danger in spiritual laziness is that we do not want to be stirred up— all we want to hear about is a spiritual retirement from the world. Yet Jesus Christ never encourages the idea of retirement— He says, “Go and tell My brethren . . .” (Matthew 28:10).
We say, “Oh, if only I really could believe!” The question is, “Will I believe?” No wonder Jesus Christ placed such emphasis on the sin of unbelief. “He did not do many mighty works there because of their unbelief” (Matthew 13:58). If we really believed that God meant what He said, just imagine what we would be like! Do I really dare to let God be to me all that He says He will be?
Openly declare to Him, “I will be faithful.” But remember that as soon as you choose to be faithful to Jesus Christ, “You are witnesses against yourselves . . .” (Joshua 24:22). Don’t consult with other Christians, but simply and freely declare before Him, “I will serve You.” Will to be faithful— and give other people credit for being faithful too.
Thank God that He does give us difficult things to do! His salvation is a joyous thing, but it is also something that requires bravery, courage, and holiness. It tests us for all we are worth. Jesus is “bringing many sons to glory” (Hebrews 2:10 , and God will not shield us from the requirements of sonship. God’s grace produces men and women with a strong family likeness to Jesus Christ, not pampered, spoiled weaklings. It takes a tremendous amount of discipline to live the worthy and excellent life of a disciple of Jesus in the realities of life. And it is always necessary for us to make an effort to live a life of worth and excellence.
God gives us a vision, and then He takes us down to the valley to batter us into the shape of that vision. It is in the valley that so many of us give up and faint. Every God-given vision will become real if we will only have patience. Just think of the enormous amount of free time God has! He is never in a hurry. Yet we are always in such a frantic hurry. While still in the light of the glory of the vision, we go right out to do things, but the vision is not yet real in us. God has to take us into the valley and put us through fires and floods to batter us into shape, until we get to the point where He can trust us with the reality of the vision. Ever since God gave us the vision, He has been at work. He is getting us into the shape of the goal He has for us, and yet over and over again we try to escape from the Sculptor’s hand in an effort to batter ourselves into the shape of our own goal.
The vision that God gives is not some unattainable castle in the sky, but a vision of what God wants you to be down here. Allow the Potter to put you on His wheel and whirl you around as He desires. Then as surely as God is God, and you are you, you will turn out as an exact likeness of the vision. But don’t lose heart in the process. If you have ever had a vision from God, you may try as you will to be satisfied on a lower level, but God will never allow it.
Don’t plan with a concern for evil in mind. Does God really mean for us to plan without taking the evil around us into account? “Love . . . thinks no evil” (1 Corinthians 13:4-5). Love is not ignorant of the existence of evil, but it does not take it into account as a factor in planning. When we were apart from God, we did take evil into account, doing all of our planning with it in mind, and we tried to reason out all of our work from its standpoint.
Don’t plan with a rainy day in mind. You cannot hoard things for a rainy day if you are truly trusting Christ. Jesus said, “Let not your heart be troubled . . .” (John 14:1). God will not keep your heart from being troubled. It is a command— “Let not. . . .” To do it, continually pick yourself up, even if you fall a hundred and one times a day, until you get into the habit of putting God first and planning with Him in mind.
Have you been propping up that foolish soul of yours with the idea that your circumstances are too much for God to handle? Set all your opinions and speculations aside and “abide under the shadow of the Almighty” (Psalm 91:1). Deliberately tell God that you will not fret about whatever concerns you. All our fretting and worrying is caused by planning without God.
If the closest relationships of life clash with the claims of Jesus Christ, He says it must be instant obedience to Himself. Discipleship means personal, passionate devotion to a Person, Our Lord Jesus Christ. There is a difference between devotion to a Person and devotion to principles or to a cause. Our Lord never proclaimed a cause; He proclaimed personal devotion to Himself. To be a disciple is to be a devoted love-slave of the Lord Jesus. Many of us who call ourselves Christians are not devoted to Jesus Christ. No man on earth has this passionate love to the Lord Jesus unless the Holy Ghost has imparted it to him. We may admire Him, we may respect Him and reverence Him, but we cannot love Him. The only Lover of the Lord Jesus is the Holy Ghost, and He sheds abroad the very love of God in our hearts. Whenever the Holy Ghost sees a chance of glorifying Jesus, He will take your heart, your nerves, your whole personality, and simply make you blaze and glow with devotion to Jesus Christ. The Christian life is stamped by ‘moral spontaneous originality,’ consequently the disciple is open to the same charge that Jesus Christ was, viz., that of inconsistency. But Jesus Christ was always consistent to God, and the Christian must be consistent to the life of the Son of God in him, not consistent to hard and fast creeds. Men pour them selves into creeds, and God has to blast them out of their prejudices before they can become devoted to Jesus Christ.
If you find yourself asking, “I wonder why I’m not growing spiritually with God?”— then ask yourself if you are paying your debts from God’s standpoint. Do now what you will have to do someday. Every moral question or call comes with an “ought” behind it— the knowledge of knowing what we ought to do.
Do it quickly— bring yourself to judgment now. In moral and spiritual matters, you must act immediately. If you don’t, the inevitable, relentless process will begin to work. God is determined to have His child as pure, clean, and white as driven snow, and as long as there is disobedience in any point of His teaching, He will allow His Spirit to use whatever process it may take to bring us to obedience. The fact that we insist on proving that we are right is almost always a clear indication that we have some point of disobedience. No wonder the Spirit of God so strongly urges us to stay steadfastly in the light! (see John 3:19-21).
“Agree with your adversary quickly . . . .” Have you suddenly reached a certain place in your relationship with someone, only to find that you have anger in your heart? Confess it quickly— make it right before God. Be reconciled to that person— do it now!
The Christian life is a maimed life initially, but in Matthew 5:48 Jesus gave us the picture of a perfectly well-rounded life— “You shall be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect.”
“Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do. . . I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13-14).
“. . . having nothing . . . .” Never hold anything in reserve. Pour yourself out, giving the best that you have, and always be poor. Never be diplomatic and careful with the treasure God gives you. “. . . and yet possessing all things”— this is poverty triumphant (2 Corinthians 6:10).
Sorrow removes a great deal of a person’s shallowness, but it does not always make that person better. Suffering either gives me to myself or it destroys me. You cannot find or receive yourself through success, because you lose your head over pride. And you cannot receive yourself through the monotony of your daily life, because you give in to complaining. The only way to find yourself is in the fires of sorrow. Why it should be this way is immaterial. The fact is that it is true in the Scriptures and in human experience. You can always recognize who has been through the fires of sorrow and received himself, and you know that you can go to him in your moment of trouble and find that he has plenty of time for you. But if a person has not been through the fires of sorrow, he is apt to be contemptuous, having no respect or time for you, only turning you away. If you will receive yourself in the fires of sorrow, God will make you nourishment for other people.