To Glory in Knowing God

You say, "Glory in Me"
But here I stand:
Glorying in folly that I call "wisdom,"
poverty that I claim as "wealth,"
and impotence that I have termed "strength."
I foolishly deem my position to be secure.

But You will not leave me to my own devices.
You strip and crush my life until I am
undone,
broken,
desolate,
laid in the dust,
wounded,
disconsolate,
shattered,
poor and needy.
Hopeless, apart from You.

I begin to know seeking with the whole heart,
hungering and thirsting after righteousness.
Your Spirit teaches me.
You allow me to know Your love
shed abroad in my now-open heart.
You have taken away everything--
Everything that I had clutched and boasted in--
And You have jealously claimed me to be Yours alone.

And now You say, "Glory in Me."
But still I recoil.
I am too shallow to take You at Your Word.
I think that I must manufacture righteousness on my own...somehow...
I still fail to recognize that
You are who You say You are.
You are the God Who exercises
lovingkindness,
forgiveness,
mercy.
The God Who delights in steadfast love.
The God Who takes pleasure in manifesting Himself.

And so You take me still lower:
revealing pride,
touching fears,
uprooting self,
illuminating sin,
warring against everything that keeps me in bondage to myself,
You take my life to the cross.
You cause its shadow to fall across my entire being,
and I am left
silent,
humbled to the dust,
yielded,
resting in You alone,
slowly lifting my eyes to gaze at You,
weeping with a joy that crushes,
mourning with a burden that restores.

Then You say, "Glory in Me."
And I understand now.
I allow You to take my hand and draw me to my feet.
I stand before You whole--though I have never been so weak and empty.
I cannot take my eyes off of Your face.
I throw back my shoulders,
and begin to sing of You with a confidence that comes from knowing You.
But then, in the midst of my song, I realize what You have actually done for me:
You have let me know You.
And I do know You now.

My song of You is flowing from a heart that is
weeping uncontrollably at the sight of
Your Person and Your ways--Who You are and what You have done.
I am just starting to see Your perspective on all of this:
I am who I am. I am a finite, sinful, created being. I am nothing apart from You.
And that is OK. It is irrelevant.
Because You are Who You are. And You have determined to make me know You, and You are determined to bring Yourself glory.
You have spared nothing to accomplish Your purpose.
What You have done to and for me has brought You glory and pleasure,
and as I accept the riches and the righteousness that You lavish on me,
I can live to the praise of the glory of Your grace.
This is what it means to glory in You.
It is to not insult Your fullness by living in my own resources.
It is to experience continually my life being brought to the foot of the cross,
being marked by its shadow.
It is to be confident in that position,
knowing that You are Everything--literally Everything--to me.

So when You say, "Glory in Me,"
I can rightfully boast in the one thing that I have the least right to know: Knowing God.
I can lift up my head and sing...about my Savior.
Yes, I can glory...in knowing You
And You alone.

The Beauty of Surrender

These two quotes were emailed to me just now by a good friend:

"When He asks for and receives our all, He gives in return that which
is above price--His own presence. The price is not great when
compared with what He gives in return; it is our blindness and our
unwillingness to yield that make it seem great." Rosalind Goforth

"I had utterly abandoned myself to Him...Could any choice be as
wonderful as His will? Could any place be safer than the center of His
will? Did He not assure me by His very presence that His thoughts
toward us are good, and not evil? Death to my own plans and desires
was almost deliriously delightful. Everything was laid at His
nail-scarred feet, life or death, health or illness, appreciation by
others or misunderstanding, sucess or failure as measured by human
standards. Only He Himself mattered." V. Raymond Edman

What could possibly be sweeter than a walk with Christ?

A Thought

The Vine Dresser is never nearer to the vine than when He is pruning it.