Current events are becoming interesting. California has practically banned home education. Obama and Hillary are fighting it out at the polls, and might even run together in the general election. Nationally, we are a welfare state in a recession, worse than anything we’ve seen since the Great Depression. A man is standing trial for preaching the gospel in Salem, Mass. Who else feels the oppression, the iron curtain beginning to slide closed on our freedoms? Is persecution just around the corner?
In all my wondering, I wonder what the view is from heaven—how the Lord sees my life, day by day, worrying, anxious, fearful, praying, while He’s already given answers in His infinite timing. How often does He shake His head, whispering, “Abigail, be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted in the earth.”
During church, Papa read a sermon by Charles Spurgeon from First Timothy chapter two: Does God really desire ALL men to be saved? Once upon a time our family read this man’s life story, his dedication to preaching the truth—whatever He found in the scriptures. His words, though quaint, were rich and uplifting, filled with the perfection of the gospel.
Josh and Josiah had just dived into First John when I joined them. We took the whole book in a sitting, watching Josh discover the tests, the commands (to believe in Jesus and love the brethren) and the beauty. “I like that,” he’d say, marking the passage with a purple twist-up crayon. “Oooh, I don’t like that,” and he’d mark it, too, knowing it was good. Again and again I am amazed to see the Lord’s hand in his life and heart, the Holy Spirit’s working, leading him into truth and obedience. After the other guys had left, we discovered Josh had been patiently waiting his turn. “Okay, Lane,” he said to my dad, after eagerly accepting an invitation for supper. “Can we have some me time? I’ve got some questions for you.”
Meanwhile, Josiah and I slipped quietly outside and out into the woods, rambling through the green briar, underbrush and falling darkness, crossing the stream on slippery stones and talking about whatever concerned us. Muddy and windblown and full of thorns, we trouped into his room and tumbled to the floor. “Do you want to pray?” I asked. Together we both answered, “For everyone.” We started, sharing back and forth, but suddenly he took off, pouring out his heart for anyone and everyone the Lord brought to his mind, pleading for salvation, asking for peace. When he said my name, a little shiver passed through my body and slipped out my toes, leaving me warm behind it. Not so long ago he was shy to pray aloud with anyone else. Tears slid from my eyes as I prayed for him—with thanksgiving.
Lord, the greatest blessings Thou dost give,
Aside from Thy own grace to live,
Are those who love to seek Thy face
And so reveal Thy matchless grace.
My heart is full of what Thou dost
In teaching sinful man to trust
In standing to receive our prayer.
Where two are gathered, Thou art there.