The Restoration Of Devastation

I looked out and saw a barren wasteland.  The black ashes of faith and the smoldering tendrils of compromise rising into the air.  Black and gray, waterless and lifeless, as far as the horizon and beyond.  As I looked down at my feet in hopelessness, I saw that I was standing on a small circle of green grass.  Where I stood, there was life.  I looked back up at the black desolation and prayed with longing in my heart, "Father, regain this ground."  

As I prayed, I looked back down at the small patch of green at my feet and it began to slowly radiate outward.  As hope began to fill my heart, so the green began to reclaim the black.  I set my face against the blackness and spoke truth.  As I spoke, I began to see others standing on small patches of green.  They were alone, they were scattered, but when the truth was spoken they stood alert and were drawn to it.  Like moths to a flame, they came to the green grass that radiated outward.  They began to gather together, and as they gathered, their own small patches began to radiate outward.  An island of life and a pasture of truth began to slowly reclaim the barren wasteland.  As life begets life, so faith begets faith.  The faith among the few kindles the hope in their hearts and the life of the Son radiates outward, drawing, reclaiming, restoring.

"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a basket. Instead, they set it on a lampstand, and it gives light to everyone in the house." (Matt 5:14,15)

"The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, shining brighter and brighter until midday. But the way of the wicked is like the darkest gloom; they do not know what makes them stumble." (Prov 4:18,19)

"They go from strength to strength, until each appears before God in Zion. O Lord God of Hosts, hear my prayer; give ear, O God of Jacob." (Ps 84:7,8)

"Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may be blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and perverse generation in which you shine as lights in the world as you hold forth the word of life;" (Phil 2:14-16)

"Once again, Jesus spoke to the people and said, 'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.'" (John 8:12)

"The Spirit of the Lord God is on Me, because the Lord has anointed Me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent Me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release from darkness the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of our God's vengeance, to comfort all who mourn, to provide for those who grieve in Zion-- to give them a crown of beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and a garment of praise in place of a spirit of despair. So they will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified. They will rebuild the ancient ruins; they will restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities, the desolations of many generations." (Isaiah 61:1-4)

The Mendicant's Thorn

A mendicant is a beggar, someone who relies chiefly or exclusively on charitable donations for their survival.  A mendicant is utterly dependent upon the goodwill of others for their support.  As I think on this word, "mendicant," I envision myself standing before the throne of God, in torn and tattered garments of my own efforts, reaching upward in dependent desperation with both hands, grasping for His goodwill and grace.  I envision myself standing before the throne of God as a mendicant, wholly dependent upon Him for my spiritual survival and support.  That is an accurate description of us all.  We are all mendicants before the throne of grace, with nothing to offer but our need. 

There is a poem I often reflect upon because it so profoundly articulates my own life.  It is a poem by Martha Snell Nicholson entitled "The Thorn."  In it, she speaks of standing as a mendicant before God's royal throne, begging Him for a priceless, unique gift.  The gift that He gives her is a thorn that pierces her heart.  She questions God as to the hurtful gift, but He assures her that all His gifts are good.  At first, she is tormented by the thorn, but over time, she learns to love it, because she learns that "He never gives a thorn without this added grace, He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face."

I often brood over this poem because I have some very deep wounds that have shaped me as a person.  I have some very nasty scars on my soul that serve as a perpetual reminder of those wounds.  And like the woman in this poem, I grieve over the thorns that have pierced my heart.  I often stand as a mendicant at the foot of God's throne, and beg for His grace to help me get over those wounds.  But also like the woman in this poem, God is teaching me that such wounds can serve as the very things that keep us in right relationship with Him.

I've experienced things in my life that are like a thorny dagger which has pierced my heart.  I didn't put that dagger there,  I don't want that dagger there, but if God removed it, I would bleed out.  Like a stab wound that pierces an artery, to remove it would mean certain death.  Thus, the very thing that wounds becomes the very thing that saves.  The thing that was meant to take life, is used to preserve life.  As long as I stay close to God, as long as I shelter under the cover of His wings, Satan cannot reach that dagger.   But, should I stray too far away from the shelter of His wings, should I wander too far from the Shepherd's hook and get within reach of the wolf of souls, the wolf will twist that dagger in my heart causing me extreme pain which sends me running back to the Shepherd.  In His infinite wisdom, God uses the dagger as a gift which keeps me in close proximity to Him.

That dagger also makes me prone to sin.  Its presence makes me vulnerable to perceiving things according to my wounded perspective and reacting to my circumstances according to my own flawed reasoning, rather than according to the wisdom and leading of God's Spirit which works within me.  Because I recognize this vulnerability, I also recognize the need for my walk with God to be exceedingly close and intimate, so that I do not stumble and fall.  I recognize that it is necessary for me to have an exceptionally intimate relationship with God so that my perspective stays aligned with His, rather than becoming aligned with the dagger.  God uses the dagger to pin aside the veil which hides His face, revealing His will over my own, giving me guidance and much needed grace.

At 2 Corinthians 12, Paul speaks of a thorn in his flesh.  He refers to it as "a messenger of Satan" which torments him (2 Cor 12:7).  We are not told what this thorn-- or messenger of Satan-- is which torments him.  We are only told that God uses it to keep Paul from becoming prideful (v.7).  We are told that God uses the thorn to keep Paul in right relationship with Him-- the thorn preserving Paul in righteousness, keeping him pinned-down in humility at the hem of God's garment. 

Through my own experience with the thorn, I can see that it also kept Paul in the sort of relationship with God that enabled him to be mightily led by His Spirit.  You see, far too often we try to come to God dragging our junk with us, holding on to things we don't want to let go of.  But we can only be mightily led by God's Spirit when we come to Him with empty hands and an empty cup-- when we stand before Him as a mendicant, in complete and total surrender and utterly dependent upon Him and His Spirit for every thought, every desire, every opinion, and every move we make. 

When Paul begged God to release him from his thorn, God told him no.  He said, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is perfected in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9).  You see, God's power in us works alone, it doesn't need our help.  And His power in us is perfected through the sweet, soul-preserving torment of the mendicant's thorn.

The Thorn

by Martha Snell Nicholson

I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne

And begged Him for one priceless gift, which I could call my own

I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart

I cried, "But Lord, this is a thorn and it has pierced my heart.

"This is a strange, a hurtful gift which Thou has given me."

He said, "My child, I give good gifts and gave My best to thee."

I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,

As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.

I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,

He take the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face.