The Heart’s True Home

“(God) has put eternity into man's heart…” (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

We lived with a Westie for a number of years—a west highland terrier that looked a lot like the white dog on Dewar’s commercials. 

Wasties are tough little dudes, bred to kill badgers and other critters deemed pestiferous by the Scots. They were taught to tunnel into varmint holes and engage the enemy in its lair. Little Vietnam tunnel rats, they were. Bred to search and destroy. 

Our Westie was many generations removed from her origins, but she still retained that instinct. She hated “meeces to pieces”—rats, squirrels, rodents of all kinds, an instinct put into her through years of breeding. She couldn’t get that notion out of her head.

On one occasion she became obsessed by some critter under a rock in our back yard. She didn’t know what it was; we didn’t know what it was. No matter, nothing could dissuade her. She dug and dug until she tunneled under the rock. She would have forsworn meals and sleep if we hadn’t dragged her out of the hole and into the house each night. 

Now I ask you: Why do we busy ourselves with our compulsions? Why do we have to climb unclimbed mountains, ski near-vertical slopes? Run class-5 rapids, challenge the forces of nature? Why must we pursue, pursue, pursue that one existential break–through? What is it but an instinct for God. It has been bred into us. We cannot not want to find God. Eternity resides in our hearts.

We don’t know that, of course. We only know that we long for something. “You don’t know what it is you want,” Mark Twain said, “but you want it so much you could almost die.” 

Life, on one level, is very simple: God is our heart’s true home. As Augustine said, in that most famous of all phrases: ”Oh God you have made us for yourself and our hearts are restless until they find rest in you.“ 

And what is the heart? That unexplored, fathomless, mysterious abyss within us that only God can fill.

David Roper

11/19/16

Little Things

"He brought me to the Temple, and began to measure..." (Ezekiel 41: 1).

Ezekiel 40 and 41 is a precise, detailed description of the size, shape and configuration of an ideal temple. Details. Particulars. Minutia. It's difficult to read these chapters and harder still to apply them. What's the prophet's purpose in setting forth this assiduously detailed plan?

Some folks say that these are the plans for a literal Millenial temple to be constructed in Jerusalem. Others say it is a symbolic representation of the perfection of God’s plan for his restored people. I tend toward the latter explanation, because I have trouble squaring the idea of a renewed Old Covenant sacrificial system with the book of Hebrews. But I leave that one up to the experts.

One thought I had this morning is the notion that God has a detailed plan for my life, one that is thought out in Heaven and recorded for all time and eternity. This, it seems, is "God's will" for me—one I long to see realized.

But, I ask, how will I know what God has in mind for me today? Simply put, I must do the things He is asking me to do right now: quell a sinful thought; forgive a slight; love my neighbor; go the second mile, show hospitality to a stranger; listen to someone in crisis; pray with someone in need. The are the little things that God is asking me to do this minute. In so doing, His will will be worked out in me.

Paul writes, "This is the will of God: your sanctification (a holy life)" (1Thessalonians 4:3). This is the starting point for me.

David Roper

11.20.16

Carolyn sends out a more or less regular “Just for You” to pastors’ wives in our ministry (Idaho Mountain Ministries). Here’s what she wrote this morning. Actually, in my present state of mind, it was “Just for Me.” 

——

Good Morning Friends,

It’s been a rather trying and troubling couple of weeks around our house and sometimes in my heart. I imagine many of you can relate. At times it is that “one more thing” that brings tears close and an undone feeling grips us.

Maybe even a little thing that becomes the proverbial straw that breaks. You know what I mean.

This morning in my quiet space, my safe place, I read a section in Dare to Journey by Charles Ringma that resonated with me. He writes,

“At a particular moment issues can appear to be so pressing that we literally panic. Problems can appear to be so demanding that they press for immediate solutions. Projects and plans can seem to require quick resolution. Present difficulties can cause us an undue amount of distress and anguish. And disappointments may appear to be so severe that we think our present ‘world’ may cave in. In the heat of the moment, things can appear in such an urgent and accentuated manner.
   

It’s important, therefore, that we learn the art of disengagement....for we frequently have knee-jerk reactions rather than make considered responses....It’s important to create a place for reflection....From the benefit of hindsight, we can begin to learn that our anxious reactions in the heat of the moment are frequently inappropriate and wide of the mark. In the place of reflection we may be able to achieve a perspective that has the wisdom of hindsight.”
The Scripture at the beginning of this essay was Lamentations 3:25-26.

The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
    to the soul who seeks him.
 It is good that one should wait quietly
    for the salvation of the Lord.

As you and I begin to practice the art of disengagement so that we can withdraw to a quiet place of reflection, seeking the One who so loves us, He can change our perspective. He can give us His wisdom and quiet rest. As we cultivate this habit of the seeking heart the results will be long-lasting, rather than a quick fix. Of course our circumstance may not change but our perspective certainly can. And we can be refreshed and strengthened to adventure on in the very place, in the very circumstances God has placed, trusting Him as we go.

After reading this essay from Ringma this morning, I was praying, including praying for you as well as for me. While praying, this short hymn came to mind.  May it bless you as it has blessed me once again.

With so much love,
Carolyn

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHCTRKXONcA

Don't Panic

If the foundations are destroyed,

What can the righteous do?

The Lord is in His holy temple,

The Lord's throne is in heaven. —Psalm 11:3,4

“Here, have a look at this,” said Ford. He sat down on one of the mattresses and rummaged about in his satchel. Arthur prodded the mattress nervously and then sat on it himself: in fact he had very little to be nervous about, because all mattresses grown in the swamps of Sqornshellous Zeta are very thoroughly killed and dried before being put to service. Very few have ever come to life again. Ford handed the book to Arthur. “What is it?” asked Arthur. “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. It’s a sort of electronic book. It tells you everything you need to know about anything. That’s its job.” Arthur turned it over nervously in his hands. “I like the cover,” he said. “‘ Don’t Panic.’ It’s the first helpful or intelligible thing anybody’s said to me all day.” The Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe

Old timers have always thought that the world is going to hell in a hand basket, but, by golly, we may have actually arrived. Here we are, beset by a whole new set of corrupting influences, bad manners and indecent behavior, political craziness and a lack of responsible, rational, moral leadership. The foundations are crumbling! What's a body to do? 

Well, put simply (but not too simply), the answer is God. 

Look, just read His book: It tells us everything we need to know about anything. That's it's job. And what, I ask you, is the answer to our present angst? "The Lord is in His holy temple." God is seated firmly on the throne. All things are under His absolute control, even this nutty election cycle.

The prophet Habakuk knew Psalm 11 and the principle it enshrines and quoted it to himself as he watched the armies of Babylon march on Jerusalem and contemplated the the imminent death of his nation. His response? “'God is in His holy temple.’ Quiet, please" (Habakuk 2:19). [Habakuk's word for "quiet" is a sibilant, hus, the direct equivalent of the word we use to calm an anxious child: "shhhh."]

God knows what He's doing."Don't panic" is writ large on the cover and every page of his book. Trust Him. Hope in Him. Rest in Him. Shhhh. You're safe between the paws of the true Aslan (C.S. Lewis).

God is working out his purpose 

'spite of all that happens here. 

Lawless nations in commotion, 

restless like a storm-tossed ocean. 

He controls their rage and fury 

so his children need not fear. 

Let our hearts then turn to heaven 

where he bides his time in peace 

Giving him our heart's devotion 

till the present troubles cease.

David Roper

11/7/16

Tetchiness

"As we get older, we grow tetchy..." —James Wolcott

The troubles of old age can make us cranky and out of sorts, but we should never excuse these bouts of bad behavior, for they can wither the hearts of those we live with and love and spread misery all around us. We have not fulfilled our duty to those in our household until we have learned to be pleasant. 

Poet Hannah More wrote this:

Since trifles make the sum of human things,

And half our misery from our foibles springs;

Since life's best joys consist in peace and ease,

And though but few can serve, yet all can please;

Oh, let the ungentle spirit learn from hence,

A small unkindness is a great offense.

Ancient Greek philosophers had a word for the virtue that corrects our unpleasantness—praus, a term that suggests a kind, patient demeanor. A soul at rest. It was considered the “queen of the virtues” for it governed and blessed all the rest. The author of the book of James, who understood the classical use of the word, describes the consummate good life as deeds done “in the gentleness [prautes] of wisdom.” 

Praus has the power to be kind and considerate in the face of pain or disruption. It is willing to accept limitations and ailments without taking out our aggravation on others. It shows gratitude for the smallest service rendered and tolerance for those who do not serve us well. It puts up with bothersome people—especially noisy, boisterous little people, for kindness to children is a crowning mark of a good and gentle soul. It speaks softly in the face of provocation. It is silent, for calm, unruffled silence is often the most eloquent response to unkind words.

Jesus was (and is) “gentle [praus] and humble in heart” (Matthew 11:29). If we ask Him, He will, in time, create His likeness in us. “From tones that jar the heart of another, from words that make it ache… from such, He (Jesus) was born to deliver us” (George MacDonald).

David Roper

10/24/16