Before you read today, you have the option of listening as I read and share my heart with you. If you’d find that helpful, just click the play arrow above. Thank you for choosing to spend time with me today, whether you’re listening or reading, that means a lot.
Early this morning, I took a walk. Before anyone was stirring, while predawn mist still moistened the air. Before cool temps started rising too far, I took the long path down Mom’s hill to explore favorite childhood hideaways again. These woods and hills hold memories of climbing trees, forts, an imaginary dream home complete with a tiny kitchen, and lazy afternoons spent on a quilt in fresh air and sunshine (with a book, of course).
When I was quite young and still fearful of snakes, I was walking along my favorite woods’ path at dusk when the idea occurred to me that I could “ward off evil” by singing. Loud singing. For all the dangerous critters who might be hiding in thick darkness, I belted out the most robust “warrior songs” that a little girl of five could muster: “I’m in the Lord’s Army” where the “Amen!” and “Yes Sir!” was loud enough to send away any threats. “I’ve Got the Joy of Jesus Down in My Heart!” shook the woods like thunder.
This morning, familiar paths were reminders of many sweet and powerful moments like that with my Savior as a little girl.
While Jesus walked among us, it was evident how He loved spending time with children and must’ve smiled at their desire to draw close to Him. I think about that often. I don’t dare assume, but now that I’m much older and have walked with Him through many decades, tears flow as I picture Him walking closely with that little girl who loved Him so fiercely. And I believe He was smiling down on me with love (while probably protecting me from many snake encounters, too).
It was in these woods, on a hill with a view of my childhood church, where I gave my promise to Jesus that if He was willing to die on that cross for me, the least I could do was to live for Him. That earnest commitment as a young girl led me to imagine what that might look like.
Of course, like many other earnest new believers, I assumed I would serve as a missionary to Africa. And I believed I was ready to do to that. So, the next day, I stood in front of my fourth grade (public school) class to announce God’s “plan for my life.” Many years later, I did finally go to Africa to teach the Word and serve with my husband in many areas as he preached. We shared the gospel in homes, prisons, and schools. We fell in love with the people and carry them in our hearts to this day.
But that childhood desire was only partially fulfilled. Spending my life serving in another country isn’t what my Savior had in mind for me.
She didn’t know it, but that little girl was in training in those Ozark woods, but not for a foreign mission field—as exciting as that sounds in childhood. The training you and I receive happens in our simple daily tasks but there are special lessons that come in the darkest seasons.
Training in dark places has purpose, but we don’t always know what that purpose is or what God is doing.
He is always at work, orchestrating events to prepare us to fulfill His purposes. It’s good to remind ourselves of that when we’re losing heart. It’s necessary to “remember” to walk back through those paths of training, when the darkness starts to suck us under.
In the darkness, a believer can feel forgotten and wonder whether God is still at work or even cares. Losing heart is something we are warned about at least six times in the New Testament (from my count anyway) so apparently folks need some help with this. The passage that the Lord put on my heart several years ago to adopt as my “life passage” provides a strategy for not losing heart.
It goes like this:
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus the source and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that lay before Him endured the cross and despised the shame and has sat down at the right hand of God’s throne.
For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, so that you won’t grow weary and lose heart.
In struggling against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood.” (Hebrews 12:1—4)
Do you see the precious treasure in this passage?
I love it! Not only is it a provision for not losing heart, but it’s also the “way of escape” when I’m hit with all sorts of temptations. It provides me with courage to face any fear. And don’t miss this, it holds the key to overcoming self-pity.
So, here’s the good news. There is a prescription available for the losing heart malady. But It’s not like the cough syrup or stinky meds I had to take as a child. This heart-prescription isn’t unpleasant at all, instead it’s delightful.
This antidote to losing of heart, is to gaze on, to behold the beauty of Christ.
What a pleasant prescription!
There is so much richness in these four verses, so much more I want to share (and will in future posts) but today, I just want us to take a few moments to think about a couple of key words.
The middle verses are perspective-adjustment-instructions. They provide help by giving us what we can do to protect ourselves from losing heart. Losing heart leads to such a dark and hopeless place and that, dear reader, is why I’m sharing with you this passage. I don’t want you to remain in the darkness from losing heart!
Hebrews 12:2 tells us to “look intently” and that is followed by the word “consider” in the next verse. Now, those who know me well, know my love of words and this word is exquisite in its ability to convey the strategic nature of this necessary spiritual discipline.
The Greek word translated “consider” is actually a combination of a prefix (ana) attached to a verb (logizomai). The prefix (ana) implies repetition. The verb (logizomai) is the root of the English word for logical and can mean to “take into account; to deliberately and carefully reason; to weigh in comparison and reach a logical conclusion.” When we put this combination together, it means that we’re to repetitively do this.
So, Hebrews 12:3 instructs us to “Consider, take into account, deliberately and carefully reason” and logically, and repeatedly, weigh this: the harrowing sight of the cross. Don’t rush past that picture. Let that sink in and stop you in your tracks, please!
Take a long look at the lovely Life-Giver hanging naked, bloody, mocked and rejected for you. Focus intently on the perfectly innocent, kind, Shepherd on display as a freshly slaughtered lamb impaled for public viewing.
Do you have that picture securely in focus?
I hope so. Because I’ve truly found this helpful.
This is solid ground when I’ve lost my footing. This is how it works out in a practical way when I feel myself fainting, struggling in the darkness, and starting to lose my balance.
As a young woman, I adopted a spiritual discipline that involves “remembering.” And speaking of that, remember how many times God told His people to “remember?” He often used physical symbols to “remind” people of important events or works that He did like an Ebenezer stone. That instruction to “Remember” goes along with this spiritual discipline of “looking intently” or considering.”
From my early days of walking with Jesus, He started answering prayers. And when on down the road, I’d be discouraged or even a bit distraught (being an emotive child that could happen quite frequently, just ask my folks!), the Lord would graciously whisper that little word in my heart: “Remember.”
Immediately, that would trigger a reminder of something He’d done in the past, some answer to prayer, a moment in worship, a hymn or song when He moved my heart. I’d “Remember” and in those moments of remembering, be led to worship. That still happens today, and tears are actually dripping down my face right now as I’m typing, because I’m so grateful for His kindness to do that. I’m so thankful for this spiritual instruction to “consider” and the practice of remembering.
If we’re to gaze on or “look intently” at Jesus, according to verse 2, and we’ve never actually seen His physical face, how can we possibly follow these instructions?
Just like I did as a little girl. We can see Jesus clearly all through the gospels. We can walk with Him there. We see Him holding the children, weeping at the graveside, healing the blind, and feeding the hungry. We can gaze on Him there and behold His beauty.
We can ask Him questions about whatever we’re seeing in the pages of Scripture. He delights in us asking.
But the next part gets a little harder. We not only look at the gentle Lord Jesus in all of His rugged beauty, but in addition to that, we must ponder, deeply consider, even logically and repetitively, consider the ugly realities of the cross, the blood, the nakedness, the absolute horror of the cross. We must not only look at that grotesque death—but we must weigh it against the hurt, pain, rejection, and loss we’re experiencing.
We must put both of these on the scales to weigh the comparison, put it in the “balance” and every time I do that, I see that my sorrows are “as the small dust of the balance compared with thy Lord’s” (C.H. Spurgeon).
Why is it necessary to focus on the horrors of the cross? To fix our eyes on something we would rather look away from and close our eyes to?
Because when we stop considering Jesus and His work on the cross, we’ll be tempted to lose heart in the dark seasons. But when we remember His love, combined with the shame (which He thought nothing of, in comparison to the joy of rescuing His bride), then our heart is renewed.
But, dear reader, don’t leave Jesus on the cross. Go to the resurrection, follow the instructions in 2 Corinthians 4 to be renewed with hope:
“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:16—18)
When we look to the eternal realities, step out of these shadowlands and keep our eyes on the glory of all that is more substantial than what we can see and feel, then, dear reader, we have the strength to press on, the willingness to sing and even shout the loud “warrior” songs. We will not lose heart when we’re keenly fixed with a steadfast focus on His heart.
Grateful for you dear friends, all for His glory!
Thank you, Kim! Very encouraging to be reminded of the cross! When we consider the price that was paid, and sacrifice that He made, it really puts into perspective how 'light and temporary' suffering can be. Love the option of hearing the devotional! Much love to you and LeRoy!
Inspiring and beautifully put!