Waste places

I want to write about C.S. Lewis, about clothes, about keeping Oliver and Henry, about wonderful friends, about church, about an old devotional given to me by one of said wonderful friends.
Hmmm.
I pick to simply quote Spurgeon.  I have been reading through the daily devotionals of Morning by Morning which one of the wonderful friends that sprang to mind gave me in college.  And it is kind of funny.  I have been trying and failing to read Isaiah recently and what do you know the first devotional (it goes by date) for me to read is from Isaiah, Isaiah 51 to be exact.  And so, I first read the chapter before looking at Spurgeon's thoughts.  And in my little black, spiraled-bound notebook I just kept writing down the verses, I didn't want to mess it up, there was no expounding or trying to work through and explain it to myself.  I couldn't help but smile and be annoyed that I couldn't write faster.

See, recently community groups have started up at our church and at the end of the first night we wrote down on a note card a prayer request and the leader shuffled them up and passed them back out.  I had written down for joy in the morning and the discipline to read my Bible in the morning, preferably without falling asleep.  And I know there were some mixed motives for getting me out of bed; but I mainly got out this past week because I know that regardless of the motives, God refines us as we simply obey Him; and then, maybe the motives get changed in us.  Our desires to please man and our own flesh (to sleep more or feel super-righteous because we read our Bible) start to be erased.  I say erased because we are still human, sinful desires will still be there, just like the image from a pencil remains no matter how new the pink eraser.

I recently had a rather odd experience with this erasing.  A few weeks ago, someone made a couple of comments that left me initially embarrassed and feeling a little more than just not-quite-good-enough.  But the thing that really stayed with me is that I am ok.  I left the encounter first, wanting a hug and a quiet, loving word from my husband (because he does that really well) and then I found myself just wanting God.  I found myself not obsessing over the comment but obsessing over the fact that He had given me a feeling of, "I'm ok, I'm not reeling."  And I was thankful and overwhelmed and a bit taken aback that He had indeed brought me "comfort in my waste places...(He had given me) joy and gladness...thanksgiving and the voice of song.'"  Psalm 51:3  He gave and gives me peace over who I am, a child of God, not a comment from the voice of the world.

I haven't simply quoted Spurgeon, sorry.  He puts this more beautifully.  And in reading the quote below, you may wonder how it all connects, it does in my head.  A chronic trial and "waste place" of mine is remembering who I am to God and my "vessel" had been put on its beam-ends recently in this area as I worked through in obedience to God, to not allow the world's comments to overtake my thoughts but to instead turn my mind to Him, "to things above."

In seasons of severe trial, the christian has nothing on earth that he can trust to, and is therefore compelled to cast himself on his God alone.  When his vessel is on its beam-ends, and no human deliverance can avail, he must simply and entirely trust himself to the providence and care of God.  Happy storm that wrecks a man on such a rock as this!  O blessed hurricane that drives the soul to God and God alone!