New Desk

This isn't just a new desk, it is an expression of love from a talented son. It fits perfectly in a little corner of my dining room. No excuses now for not making posts.

Thankfulness for Present Blessings

     The Lord's goodness hasn't failed us in the past. We were wonderfully blessed during our year in Washington, and we thanked God for many things. Nonetheless, in the months since Lee's heart event, we have felt a special blessing in a multitude of little ways that I simply do not know how to put into words.

   I say these things in a desire to express my sincere thankfulness for a myriad of things that might sound silly if I listed them ~ but I won't ~ not so much out of a fear of wearying my readers as from the fact that I don't necessarily know what to call them. And for fear of leaving out the things that are actually more important. By way of example, however, the thing that often comes to mind is my front door.

   A front door isn't very useful without a house.  We have a lovely farmhouse that is just the right size for us and is situated in a beautiful, quiet place.  The front door isn't the best thing about the house.  But it is the thing that stands out in my mind as evidence of the Lord's goodness to us.  It is just such a door as I have long wanted, and when I walked into the house and saw it, I knew it was a gift from him to me.  It is something I would have never thought to ask for and could not have missed if it hadn't been here.  But it is here, and I thank God for it.

   More amazing is that Lee has a Greek pupil. It isn't something he sought or expected to find, but here in a little town in central North Dakota, in a small church of about twenty people, there is one young man who is sincerely motivated to learn Greek.  Lee gave him a copy of Machen's grammar. He is reading it and asking questions.

   The saints have blessed us in numerous ways, fixing up the house, clearing the driveway, burning the ditches, and helping us to settle in to North Dakota life.  It doesn't seem right to mention Dan and his interest in Greek and leave so many bigger things unsaid.  But the saints in other places have been good to us, too.  I mention one of the things that stands out as an emblem of the Lord's blessing in a way that differs from the lifelong goodness we have known.

The Sacrifice of Praise

Due to distractions, I missed "Thankful Thursday" today, but it isn't too late to be thankful.

The Sacrifice of Praise

      Impossible it seems,

      Amidst my shattered dreams,

To break the power of discontent

To which my selfish soul is bent.

      And yet I make the choice

      In all things to rejoice;

To offer thanks in everything

And teach my weary heart to sing.

      It is my Lord’s command,

      And by His strength I stand,

So, even in my darkest days,

I make the sacrifice of praise.

      If I will but obey

      And cast my doubts away,

He always will the faith impart

To praise Him wholly from the heart.

      A sacrifice it is

      To bend my will to His,

But, oh, the peace and joy it pays

To make the sacrifice of praise!

Martha Hall, Faithful in Adversity

Some of the things I am especially thanful for this week are:
~ A good visit with Harmony.
~ The completion of a wood rack for hanging pans in my kitchen.
~ Word that the following poem was used for good in one woman's life.

      Martha Hall*

                      By Nita Brainard

The marriage union God has given

To be a type and taste of heaven.

Both man and wife He means to bless,

Increasing earthly happiness,

But in the case of Martha Hall,

It didn’t work that way at all.

The lot that fell to her through time,

Was her misfortune, not her crime.

Job’s friends would find in her the fault,

And so her character assault,

But suffering isn’t always sent

To those deserving punishment.

Sometimes to lift the favored up,

God gives them first a bitter cup.

The wickedness of selfish man

He uses to fulfil this plan.

Thus, sorrows Martha had to face

Became a sanctifying grace.

The man she wed and thought would be

A haven of security,

A comfort to her longing heart,

And to her soul a counterpart,

Though outwardly a seeming fit,

Was shortly proved a hypocrite.

When in her house a maid gave birth,

The servants thought the girl not worth

Their timely and their needed aid,

For they despised the unwed maid.

When Martha asked what cause they had,

She learned her husband was the dad.

Though wracked herself with untold pain,

Yet Martha saw her duty plain.

She looked in pity on the maid,

And gave her still the needed aid.

Her husband, pleased with such a wife,

Reformed a while his wicked life.

The mending didn’t last for long.

He soon returned to going wrong.

A godly man he once appeared,

But through the years his conscience seared.

At length he openly avowed

That he was numerous “wives” allowed.

One time when he a girl beguiled,

He brought his wife the bastard child;

With orders placed it in her hands —

And she obeyed the base commands.

A crib she dutifully prepared

And for the needy infant cared.

Without a word, she meekly bore

Both this abuse, and much, much more.

Although he filled it with disgrace,

She honoured his God-given place.

Without reproach or bitter whines,

She even helped his concubines.

When asked how she could do such things,

Her answer many a conscience stings:

Not as a woman do I act,

But as a Christian, bound by pact.

Oh, who has faith to do the same?

And who will such a calling claim?

How little do we wives endure,

And yet don’t act at all like her!

How quick we are with a complaint;

How quick to blame; how quick to faint;

How quick to justify a course

That could end up in a divorce!

A man may fail to rise above

The weakness of his promised love,

May fail to honor, fail to guide,

Nor for his wife’s true needs provide,

Yet when her brightest hopes are crushed,

Let even just complaints be hushed!

O woman, fix on Christ your eyes;

Above your troubles you may rise.

Perhaps your bliss is incomplete;

Your earthly prospects not so sweet;

It lies in your own interest still

To meekly bend your stubborn will.

Although the journey can be rough,

The end is sure, and blest enough:

For Martha now is with her Lord,

And e’en on earth had this reward,

That when her husband came to die,

She was an angel! was his cry.

---

* 1707-1791, Martha Hall was the next younger sister to John Wesley.  The details of this story are substantiated in Memoirs of the Wesley Family by Adam Clarke.

Thank You

       

I thank you, I thank you, My Savior;

        I thank you for giving me grace.

I thank you for patience in suffering;

         And even for pain in its place.

I thank you for strength in my weakness;

         For power in Christ to abide;

For faith that in every temptation

         A way of escape you provide.

I thank you for every affliction

        That draws me yet closer to you.

I thank you for quiet assurance

         That safely you’ll carry me through.

I thank you for hearing the heart-cries

         Wrung out of a vessel so weak.

I thank you for offering wisdom

          To all who are willing to seek.

I thank you for love overflowing,

          I thank you for joy in my heart.

I thank you for glimpses of Jesus,

          Which coruage and vict’ry impart.

I thank you for present salvation;

          I thank you with all of my soul.

I thank you for giving your life-blood

          My sin-shattered heart to make whole.