Author: danefowlkes

“In the selfsame day, as God had said unto him.” Genesis 17:23

Instant obedience is the only kind of obedience there is; delayed obedience is disobedience. Every time God calls us to any duty, He is offering to make a covenant with us; doing the duty is our part, and He will do His part in special blessing.

The only way we can obey is to obey “in the selfsame day,” as Abraham did. To be sure, we often postpone a duty and then later on do it as fully as we can. It is better to do this than not to do it at all. But it is then, at the best, only a crippled, disfigured, half-way sort of duty-doing; and a postponed duty never can bring the full blessing that God intended, and that it would have brought if done at the earliest possible moment. (Streams in the Desert)

“There must be no debate. The moment you obey the light, the Son of God presses through you in that particular; but if you debate you grieve the Spirit of God. . . . Never live on memories; let the word of God be always living and active in you.” (O. Chambers)

Following Jesus requires that I come to the end of myself; understanding how to get to the end and live beyond is the key to discipleship. Jesus lays out a clear sequence to follow that begins with, “let them deny themselves…”

The word “deny” means to claim no allegiance to someone or something. It is the word John Mark used to describe Peter’s denial of Jesus. As Peter stood in the courtyard of the high priest a short distance, keeping an eye on Jesus and watching his own back, a maiden asked him, “Do you know this man?” (Mark 14:66-72). Peter vehemently denied any allegiance to Jesus, to the point of swearing and cursing. This is exactly the word Jesus chooses for our first step of obedience. As long as my first thought is self-preservation or self-advancement, I leave no room for Jesus to be Lord. Surrender never takes place until I distrust myself. Delayed obedience discredits the Master, and disqualifies me as Christ’s disciple.

Happy Mother’s Day

“We know not what we should pray for as we ought.” Romans 8:26

The way to peace and victory is to accept every circumstance, every trial, straight from the hand of a loving Father; and to live up in the heavenly places, above the clouds, in the very presence of the Throne, and to look down from the Glory upon our environment as lovingly and divinely appointed. (Streams in the Desert)

As far back as I can remember, I have felt special, due in no part to anything about me; instead, that impression has everything to do with my mother and father. My earliest memory goes something like this, “Son, you’re special because we chose you.” I did not comprehend it at the time, and they may not have fully understood it themselves, but Henry and Lois established a sure foundation from which to embrace the reality. Being adopted was better, in my undeveloped mind, than having been their natural-born son, although I secretly wished that I had inherited my father’s height, his James Dean good looks, and his deep bass voice. Chalk it up to masterful child psychology coming from a boilermaker and a church librarian, mainly because it was heartfelt and honest. They were unable to have children of their own, so they chose to lavish their love on someone else’s miscalculation, redeeming both child and themselves in the process. They believed adoption to be the will of God for them, and truth be known, it was for my sister and me as well.

I wish that every child could develop according to the strong impression that she or he is special and chosen for greatness. The truth is, life is special and you are too. The Father says to each of us, “You are special, because I chose you.” (From Ordinary Glory: Finding Grace in the Commonplace by Dane Fowlkes)

“All things are possible to him that believeth.” Mark 9:23

The “all things” do not always come simply for the asking, for the reason that God is ever seeking to teach us the way of faith, and in our training in the faith life there must be room for the trial of faith, the discipline of faith, the patience of faith, the courage of faith, and often many stages are passed before we really realize what is the end of faith, namely, the victory of faith.

Real moral fibre is developed through discipline of faith. You have made your request of God, but the answer does not come. What are you to do? Keep on believing God’s Word; never be moved away from it by what you see or feel, and thus as you stand steady, enlarged power and experience is being developed. The fact of looking at the apparent contradiction as to God’s Word and being unmoved from your position of faith make you stronger on every other line. Often God delays purposely, and the delay is just as much an answer to your prayer as is the fulfillment when it comes. (Streams in the Desert)

I am in constant danger of re-creating God according to my own image—a milquetoast deity fits the bill. When it comes to how God looks at me, I want Mister Rogers, not William Wallace (Braveheart); soft when it comes to my shortcomings, understanding when it comes to my errors, and tender when it comes to my failure. The last thing I want is a standard bearer, a strong and demanding Warrior Captain, a relentless Coach that will not settle for anything less than that for which I was created. I may be hard on myself, but God should take it easy on me.

There’s only one problem with this whole business—the Omnipotent One refuses to fit into any mold of my own making. Our God is a God of grace, but his mercy is always in juxtaposition to relentless expectation. Remove the word “settle” from your Christian vocabulary—God grants unending grace, but he never settles for anything less than his plan for our lives.

“We went through fire and through water: but thou broughtest us out into a wealthy place.” Psalm 66:12

Paradoxical though it be, only that man is at rest who attains it through conflict. This peace, born of conflict, is not like the deadly hush preceding the tempest, but the serene and pure-aired quiet that follows it.

It is not generally the prosperous one, who has never sorrowed, who is strong and at rest. His quality has never been tried, and he knows not how he can stand even a gentle shock. He is not the safest sailor who never saw a tempest; he will do for fair-weather service, but when the storm is rising, place at the important post the man who has fought out a gale, who has tested the ship, who knows her hulk sound, her rigging strong, and her anchor-flukes able to grasp and hold by the ribs of the world.

When first affliction comes upon us, how everything gives way! Our clinging, tendril hopes are snapped, and our heart lies prostrate like a vine that the storm has torn from its trellis; but when the first shock is past, and we are able to look up, and say, “It is the Lord,” faith lifts the shattered hopes once more, and binds them fast to the feet of God. Thus the end is confidence, safety, and peace. (Streams in the Desert)

Approaching the terminus of an extremely stressful season, I intended to say “I’m beginning to decompress,” but it came out “I’m beginning to decompose.” That may be nearer the truth than I care to admit. Twin hands of demand and limitation grip hard and threaten to pull me apart at the seams. It is as if I’m living out Nigerian author Achebe’s novel, “Things Fall Apart.” My problem is that I am not now nor ever will be a great multitasker, which puts me behind the eight ball much of the time. Obligation and opportunity rarely approach single-file; life rushes at us from all directions.

Thank God the Father stands at the confluence of pain and disillusionment with outstretched arms. Like a Good Samaritan He heals my broken heart and binds my wounds. For my sin I need a Savior; for my damaged spirit I need a Healer. He pours out tender mercy like soothing balm on burning skin. Better still, He applies grace to the hurt I keep hidden from everyone but Him.

“Jesus is sweet upon the tongue, melody to the ear and joy in the heart. But it is also a healing medicine. Is one among us sorrowful? Let Jesus come into his heart, and rise thence to his lips. And behold, at the risen light of Thy Name, every cloud is scattered, and calm returns. Has anyone fallen into sin? More, does anyone run despairing into a noose of death? If he calls upon the Name of Jesus, shall he not breathe again in life?” (St. Bernard of Clairvaux)

“I had fainted unless…” Psalm 27:13

“FAINT NOT!” How great is the temptation at this point! How the soul sinks, the heart grows sick, and the faith staggers under the keen trials and testings which come into our lives in times of special bereavement and suffering. “I cannot bear up any longer, I am fainting under this providence. What shall I do? God tells me not to faint. But what can one do when he is fainting?”

What do you do when you are about to faint physically? You cannot do anything. You cease from your own doings. In your faintness, you fall upon the shoulder of some strong loved one. You lean hard. You rest. You lie still and trust. It is so when we are tempted to faint under affliction. God’s message to us is not, “Be strong and of good courage,” for He knows our strength and courage have fled away. But it is that sweet word, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Hudson Taylor was so feeble in the closing months of his life that he wrote a dear friend: “I am so weak I cannot write; I cannot read my Bible; I cannot even pray. I can only lie still in God’s arms like a little child, and trust.” This wondrous man of God with all his spiritual power came to a place of physical suffering and weakness where he could only lie still and trust.

And that is all God asks of you, His dear child, when you grow faint in the fierce fires of affliction. Do not try to be strong. Just be still and know that He is God, and will sustain you, and bring you through.

“God keeps His choicest cordials for our deepest faintings.” (Streams in the Desert)

Throwing in the towel is not the same as raising a white flag of surrender. Quitting is temporary insanity; a completely self-absorbed decision that refuses to acknowledge its consequences on anyone but ourselves. God never tells us to stand down; instead, He instructs us repeatedly to surrender. I may despair, but I cannot relinquish hope when I am abandoned to Christ. Momentary frustration or disappointment does not lead to resignation when I trust my future as well as my past to Grace.

“Are you prepared to let God take you into total oneness with Himself, paying no more attention to what you call the great things of life? Are you prepared to surrender totally and let go? The true test of abandonment or surrender is in refusing to say, ‘Well, what about this?’ If you totally abandon yourself to God, He immediately says to you, ‘I will give your life to you as a prize….’ The reason people are tired of life is that God has not given them anything— they have not been given their life ‘as a prize.’ The way to get out of that condition is to abandon yourself to God. And once you do get to the point of total surrender to Him, you will be the most surprised and delighted person on earth. God will have you absolutely, without any limitations, and He will have given you your life.” (Oswald Chambers)

“Abraham stood yet before the Lord.” Genesis 18:22

The friend of God can plead with Him for others. Perhaps Abraham’s height of faith and friendship seems beyond our little possibilities. Do not be discouraged, Abraham grew; so may we. He went step by step, not by great leaps. The man whose faith has been deeply tested and who has come off victorious, is the man to whom supreme tests must come. The finest jewels are most carefully cut and polished; the hottest fires try the most precious metal. Abraham would never have been called the Father of the Faithful if he had not been proved to the uttermost.

Read Genesis, twenty-second chapter: “Take thy son, thine only son, whom thou lovest.” See him going with a chastened, wistful, yet humbly obedient heart up Moriah’s height, with the idol of his heart beside him about to be sacrificed at the command of God whom he had faithfully loved and served!

What a rebuke to our questionings of God’s dealings with us! Away with all doubting explanations of this stupendous scene! It was an object lesson for the ages. Angels were looking. Shall this man’s faith stand forever for the strength and help of all God’s people? Shall it be known through him that unfaltering faith will always prove the faithfulness of God?

Yes; and when faith has borne victoriously its uttermost test, the angel of the Lord–who? The Lord Jesus, Jehovah, He in whom “all the promises of God are yea and amen”—spoke to him, saying, “Now I know that thou fearest God.” Thou hast trusted me to the uttermost. I will also trust thee; thou shalt ever be My friend, and I will bless thee, and make thee a blessing. (Streams in the Desert)

It is such a simple word that I rarely consider its meaning. I describe certain individuals past and present as “friends” to the exclusion of others. A technical definition indicates a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection. I prefer the definition offered by the Urban Dictionary:

“A friend is someone you love and who loves you, someone you respect and who respects you, someone whom you trust and who trusts you. A friend is honest and makes you want to be honest, too. A friend is loyal. A friend is someone who is happy to spend time with you doing absolutely nothing at all. . . . A friend is someone who not only doesn’t care if you’re ugly or boring, but doesn’t even think about it; someone who forgives you no matter what you do, and someone who tries to help you even when they don’t know how.”

Stated simply, a friend is a favored companion. If so, am I a friend of God? Do I thoughtlessly go about my business aloof from the Father, or do I consciously enjoy Him? Is He so important to me that to go one hour without Him on my mind and in my life would be unthinkable torture? My sister commented on something I wrote recently: “Growing older seems to make me desire even more that sweet communion with God. It brings peace and order to a sometimes jumbled, busy mess.” I cannot claim the Father as friend if I only address Him when I need or want something. Holy friendship is spending time together with no ulterior motive.

“Walking in the midst of the fire.” Daniel 3:25

The fire did not arrest their motion; they walked in the midst of it. It was one of the streets through which they moved to their destiny. The comfort of Christ’s revelation is not that it teaches emancipation from sorrow, but emancipation through sorrow.

O my God, teach me, when the shadows have gathered, that I am only in a tunnel. It is enough for me to know that it will be all right some day.

They tell me that I shall stand upon the peaks of Olivet, the heights of resurrection glory. But I want more, O my Father; I want Calvary to lead up to it. I want to know that the shadows of this world are the shades of an avenue the avenue to the house of my Father. Tell me I am only forced to climb because Thy house is on the hill! I shall receive no hurt from sorrow if I shall walk in the midst of the fire. (Streams in the Desert)

Of all the classes I’ve taught to university or seminary students through the years, my favorite was one called “Ministry Formations.” My primary objective in the course was to encourage students to develop early on a lifelong commitment to maintaining balance between personhood and performance—who we are in Christ with what we do for Christ.

“He chose David his servant and took him from the sheep pens; from tending the sheep he brought himto be the shepherd of his people Jacob, of Israel his inheritance. And David shepherded them with integrity of heart; with skillful hands he led them.” Psalms 78:70-72 | ASV

I tend to trip into the performance trap. Deadlines become obsessions, and winning isn’t a good thing—it is everything. An unhealthy diet of doing without corresponding attention to being signals impending disaster. I experienced as such early in ministry, and struggle with the dichotomy to this very day. What I need to remember daily is that consistent communion with God trumps anything I might accomplish in His name. Quite honestly, many of the things I claim to do for Him are actually self-centered acts undertaken for my own benefit and reputation. People-pleasers find it hard to be the friend of God. Lay down the awful burden of garnering praise and earning affection; do not run from the fire but learn to rest in the midst of it by relishing the Father’s love and enjoying His companionship.

“He spoke a parable unto them… that men ought always to pray, and not to faint.” Luke 18:1

No temptation in the life of intercession is more common than this of failure to persevere. We begin to pray for a certain thing; we put up our petitions for a day, a week, a month; and then, receiving as yet no definite answer, straightway we faint, and cease altogether from prayer concerning it. This is a deadly fault. It is simply the snare of many beginnings with no completions. It is ruinous in all spheres of life. The man who forms the habit of beginning without finishing has simply formed the habit of failure. The man who begins to pray about a thing and does not pray it through to a successful issue of answer has formed the same habit in prayer. To faint is to fail; then defeat begets disheartenment, and unfaith in the reality of prayer, which is fatal to all success. (Streams in the Desert)

“Patience is more than endurance. A saint’s life is in the hands of God like a bow and arrow in the hands of an archer. God is aiming at something the saint cannot see, and He stretches and strains, and every now and again the saint says — “I cannot stand any more.” God does not heed, He goes on stretching till His purpose is in sight, then He lets fly. Trust yourself in God’s hands. For what have you need of patience just now? Maintain your relationship to Jesus Christ by the patience of faith. “Though He slay me, yet will I wait for Him.” (Oswald Chambers)

Faith is not emotional knee-jerk, but robust confidence established through the good of our days as well as the bad. “Faith is the heroic effort of your life, you fling yourself in reckless confidence on God” (Chambers). Endurance is not resignation to a pointless inevitability; although we may not now be able to connect the dots of our circumstances, we know the Father. He never disappoints. “Shipwreck occurs where there is not that mental poise which comes from being established on the eternal truth that God is holy love” (Chambers). Instead of hurling accusations the divine direction, pray to know Him despite disappointment or disillusionment.

“The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him.” Psalm 25:14

There are secrets of Providence which God’s dear children may learn. His dealings with them often seem, to the outward eye, dark and terrible. Faith looks deeper and says, “This is God’s secret. You look only on the outside; I can look deeper and see the hidden meaning.” Sometimes diamonds are done up in rough packages, so that their value cannot be seen. When the Tabernacle was built in the wilderness there was nothing rich in its outside appearance. The costly things were all within, and its outward covering of rough badger skin gave no hint of the valuable things which it contained.

God may send you, dear friends, some costly packages. Do not worry if they are done up in rough wrappings. You may be sure there are treasures of love, and kindness, and wisdom hidden within. If we take what He sends, and trust Him for the goodness in it, even in the dark, we shall learn the meaning of the secrets of Providence. (Streams in the Desert)

“It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are – even if we tell it only to ourselves – because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing. . . . Finally, I suspect that it is by entering that deep place inside us where our secrets are kept that we come perhaps closer than we do anywhere else to the One who, whether we realize it or not, is of all our secrets the most telling and the most precious we have to tell” (Frederick Buechner, in the Introduction to Telling Secrets).

There are days when the hardest part of waking up is not facing the world but myself. Frustrated recently for a myriad of piddling reasons, I offered to no one in particular the off-handed comment, “That’s the story of my life.” I muttered it as complaint, but the statement revealed more than intended. Taken at face value, my resignation indicated that my story is to be read as the lineage of one frustrating circumstance after the next, but there is more to our narrative than what perches precariously on the surface. The story of our lives is written so deep within that we may fail to recognize it unless we pause long enough to look beneath the veneer.

“Would not God discover this? For he knows the secrets of the heart.” Psalm 44:21

One of the things we hold in common with God Almighty are secrets. We all have them, and so does He; the difference is we work hard to conceal ours, while God invites us into His hidden places. I admit to thoughts and feelings I wish He didn’t know, but we cannot conceal anything from Him. Instead of attempting a futile cover-up, come clean with the Father; tell Him the secrets He already knows, and you will discover more about Him and yourself than you ever imagined possible. Routine is comfortable and reflection disruptive, but do not yield to the easy way. Explore the hurt you buried long ago and force yourself to face your fears. Admit each honestly before the Lord, and allow Him to expose still deeper sin to confess and pain that needs the Healer.

“When they began to sing and praise, the Lord set ambushments… and they were smitten.” 2 Chronicles 20:22

Oh, that we could reason less about our troubles, and sing and praise more! There are thousands of things that we wear as shackles which we might use as instruments with music in them, if we only knew how. Those men that ponder, and meditate, and weigh the affairs of life, and study the mysterious developments of God’s providence, and wonder why they should be burdened and thwarted and hampered—how different and how much more joyful would be their lives, if, instead of forever indulging in self-revolving and inward thinking, they would take their experiences, day by day, and lift them up, and praise God for them.

We can sing our cares away easier than we can reason them away. Sing in the morning. The birds are the earliest to sing, and birds are more without care than anything else that I know of. Sing at evening. Singing is the last thing that robins do. When they have done their daily work; when they have flown their last flight, and picked up their last morsel of food, then on a topmost twig, they sing one song of praise.

Oh, that we might sing morning and evening, and let song touch song all the way through. (Streams in the Desert)

Music and memory go hand-in-hand. Funny how often I forget that I remember something. It happened again when I randomly tuned in a Christian station in South Michigan and heard an old hymn that elicited emotions so powerful that I was physically affected (I discreetly wept). I had forgotten that I remember the moving text of, “My Lord is near me all the time.” From the first line, this hymn composed by Barbara Fowler Gaultney awakened deeply embedded childhood memories. One moment I was behind the steering wheel of an Avis rental car; the next I was transported back to Trinity Baptist Church in Port Arthur, Texas, sitting as a boy on curved plywood theater seats that were fastened to an asbestos tile floor. Men wore polyester suits with wide ties, women were in knit dresses and panty hose, and choir members wrapped in blue satin robes with gold satin stoles sang out:

When the thunder shakes the mighty hills
And trembles ev’ry tree, Then I know a God so great and strong Can surely harbor me.

More than anything else I remember God’s closeness. Years later, I read the works of Francis Schaefer, who liked to speak of the “God who is there.” I do not disagree with his theology, but more than ever I cling to the memory that God is near and am increasingly relying on the present reality of a God who is here. I had forgotten that I remember just how much I need a loving Father to embrace and harbor me.

In the lightning flash across the sky
His mighty pow’r I see,
And I know if He can reign on high,
His light can shine on me.

I’ve seen it in the lightning, heard it in the thunder,
And felt it in the rain;
My Lord is near me all the time,
My Lord is near me all the time.

When the thunder shakes the mighty hills
And trembles ev’ry tree,
Then I know a God so great and strong
Can surely harbor me.

I’ve seen it in the lightning, heard it in the thunder,
And felt it in the rain;
My Lord is near me all the time,
My Lord is near me all the time.

When refreshing showers cool the earth
And sweep across the sea,
Then His rainbow shines within my heart,
His nearness comforts me.

I’ve seen it in the lightning, heard it in the thunder,
And felt it in the rain;
My Lord is near me all the time,
My Lord is near me all the time.

(“My Lord Is Near Me All the Time”, words and music by Barbara Fowler Gaultney)