DANE FOWLKES

“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)

“He maketh sore, and bindeth up: he woundeth and his hands make whole.” Job 5:18

As we pass beneath the hills which have been shaken by the earthquake and torn by convulsion, we find that periods of perfect repose succeed those of destruction. The pools of calm water lie clear beneath their fallen rocks, the water lilies gleam, and the reeds whisper among the shadows; the village rises again over the forgotten graves, and its church tower, white through the storm twilight, proclaims a renewed appeal to His protection “in whose hand are all the corners of the earth, and the strength of the hills is his also.” (Streams in the Desert)

“We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world” (C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain).

It is hard to be unwanted. She should be immune by now to faces turned the other way she told herself, but the sting of dismissal brought its own brand of shame she couldn’t shake. Unclean—she hated the word and the shun that accompanied judgment. She had done nothing to deserve the disgrace. Twelve years is an eternity for anyone enduring the ignominy of private torment and public ban. Her modest means of support was long gone with nothing to show for it. Some took her money hoping to help; others simply took her for a ride. Either way, her condition was worse now than in the beginning, and she was penniless to boot. With nowhere else to turn, hope ebbed away like the final grunts of a dying man when she overheard strangers speak of a healer headed her way. He was not approaching to find her, obviously, but she quickly formulated a plan. No one in their right mind would stop to help her, but perhaps she could reach out and touch the healer healing before he passed out of reach.

It was against the Law to do such a thing, but years of banishment from the temple and enduring public and private hell made her desperate. She knifed her way through the throng, ceremonially sullying all she touched in the process, and reached out and grasped his cloak from behind. The gesture was not intended to foster attention; she desired healing not notoriety, but the moment she brushed his garment the bleeding stopped. She looked down in bewilderment, stunned at the sudden change. In an instant, one touch secured more than twelve years of treatments and her last mite combined.

Jesus never leaves anyone anonymous. People were jostling and pushing into Him from all over, yet he stopped, turned, and asked, “Who touched me?” (Mark 5:30). The disciples were incredulous for the interruption, but Jesus knew that healing power had gone out of Him. We cannot “steal” a miracle from God. The crowd parted as the woman stepped forward and explained herself. To her astonishment and relief, Jesus said, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering” (Mark 5:34). Jesus placed desperation on par with faith, and healing was the result.

Contrary to popular opinion, faith does not paint God into a corner. Faith does not change God; it changes us. As a result, our focus shifts from gaining what we desire, to permitting God to do all He desires in and through us. We all need healing of one kind or another, whether we admit it or not. An inordinate amount of suffering is self-induced, but Jesus stands ready to heal that which we bring on ourselves as well as that which is outside our control. The healer never leaves us as he finds us. The question is not, “Do you want to be healed?”, but rather, “How willing are you to change?” In desperation, reach for the healer, and you will receive more than you bargained for.

“And it shall come to pass that whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be delivered.” Joel 2:32

Why do not I call on His name? Why do I run to this neighbor and that when God is so near and will hear my faintest call? Why do I sit down and devise schemes and invent plans? Why not at once roll myself and my burden upon the Lord?

Straightforward is the best runner–why do not I run at once to the living God? In vain shall I look for “deliverance anywhere else; but with God I shall find it; for here I have His royal shall to make it sure. I need not ask whether I may call on Him or not, for that word “Whosoever” is a very wide and comprehensive one. Whosoever means me, for it means anybody and everybody who calls upon God. I will therefore follow the leading of the text, and at once call upon the glorious Lord who has made so large a promise.

My case is urgent, and I do not see how I am to be delivered; but this is no business of mine. He who makes the promise will find ways and means of keeping it. It is mine to obey His commands; it is not mine to direct His counsels. I am His servant, not His solicitor. I call upon Him, and He will deliver. (Streams in the Desert)

A friend told me of miraculous answer to prayer in the Middle East that inspires me to call on the Lord. This true story begins by a tender youth opening her heart to Christ, with several relatives following her example. We will call her Mary. Hope dawned for the impoverished family in a dark landscape of fear and oppression, but dimmed again in the days that followed when her eyesight began to fail. Mary was carried to doctors to learn what could be done, but each physician pronounced the same verdict—inevitable blindness. Doctors suggested she should learn to read Braille, but the family was too poor to buy any books and there were no institutions to provide them for her. What began as an alarming situation was now even more grim, so the new disciples cried out in desperation to the Lord.

A church in their neighborhood invited her along with other children to join them for a special program. The eager children pressed into the meager space, and giggled at the puppets, laughed at numerous dramatic presentations, and sang along as best they could. Every portion was carefully orchestrated to present Jesus Christ as Son of God and a willing Savior. At the end of the program, the leader announced a special surprise. Friends from America had sent a shoebox for each child filled with items they could keep. The boxes were distributed, and the leader counted down, “Three . . . two . . . one,” which signaled the children to open their boxes. Children laughed and cheered as they peered inside to find things most of them had never held before, much less possessed. Mary slowly removed the paper and top, and could not believe her failing eyes when she looked inside her own box to find a book written in Braille. She showed it in wonder to the adults, and all were stunned. They quickly went to the other boxes to see if that same gift was repeated in any others, but it was not. In God’s mercy and providence, He placed hope in the exact hands intended to receive it. No hurt is too secret and no need too impossible to share with the God of mercy.

“But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God: I trust in the mercy of God for ever and ever.” Psalms 52:8 | KJV

“The Lord hath prepared his throne in the heavens; and his kingdom ruleth over all.” Psalm 103:19

Then did He lay His hand upon me tenderly. “My child,” He said, “thy only safety is, in everything, to love and trust and praise.” (Streams in the Desert)

“I’ve been thinking….” How many times have I said that to myself or others, without pausing to consider the import of the thought? Much of what constitutes life is conducted in our minds, and every meaningful thought is predicated on honesty. There can be no deep reflection, no positive change without intellectual honesty; all other mental activity is smoke and mirrors. Dishonest thought is nothing more than senseless mental chatter. “What deadens us most to God’s presence within us, I think, is the inner dialogue that we are continuously engaged in with ourselves, the endless chatter of human thought. I suspect that there is nothing more crucial to true spiritual comfort . . . than being able from time to time to stop that chatter” (F. Buechner, Whistling in the Dark).

Unseen and frequently unsettling, our thought life reflects who we are and determines the people we become. “As a man thinketh …” (Proverbs 23:7); “When I was a child I thought like a child …” (1 Corinthians 13:11).  What am I doing to promote the spiritual discipline of rigorous and honest contemplation?

“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee. Trust ye in the Lord for ever: for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength.” Isaiah 26:3-4, KJV

“God that cannot lie promised.” Titus 1:2

Faith is not working up by will power a sort of certainty that something is coming to pass, but it is seeing as an actual fact that God has said that this thing shall come to pass, and that it is true, and then rejoicing to know that it is true, and just resting because God has said it.

Faith turns the promise into a prophecy. While it is merely a promise it is contingent upon our cooperation. But when faith claims it, it becomes a prophecy, and we go forth feeling that it is something that must be done because God cannot lie. (Streams in the Desert)

“Patience is not indifference; patience conveys the idea of an immensely strong rock withstanding all onslaughts. The vision of God is the source of patience, because it imparts a moral inspiration. Moses endured, not because he had an ideal of right and duty, but because he had a vision of God” (Oswald Chambers).

Faith always costs something. I fail the test when I balk at waiting, or am too timid to act upon the knowledge I do have. I met a small group of intercessors in western Michigan who have met every Monday morning for twenty years to pray for specific needs in the world, in their state, and those right next door. I shared indisputable evidence that God is answering one of their long standing prayers in a mighty way and they began to weep and worship God Almighty. I have rarely witnessed such gut wrenching gratitude. Their faith had obviously cost them much, but to a person they declared the results well worth the wait. Faith demands extravagant love for both the object of intercession, and the Father to whom we pray.

“And the ill favored and lean-fleshed kine did Eat up the seven well favored and fat kin…and the thin, ears swallowed up the seven rank and full ears.” Genesis 41:4,7

There is a warning for us in that dream, just as it stands: It is possible for the best years of our life, the best experiences, the best victories won, the best service rendered, to be swallowed up by times of failure, defeat, dishonor, uselessness in the kingdom. Some men’s lives of rare promise and rare achievement have ended so. It is awful to think of, but it is true. Yet it is never necessary.

S. D. Gordon has said that the only assurance of safety against this tragedy is “fresh touch with God,” daily, hourly. The blessed, fruitful, victorious experiences of yesterday are not only of no value to me today, but they will actually be eaten up or reversed by today’s failures, unless they serve as incentives to still better, richer experiences today.(Streams in the Desert)

A curious phrase gets batted around in Christian circles that smacks more of myth than reality, but is, nonetheless, quite en vogue among believers. The popular spiritual litmus test has to do with finding and following “God’s perfect plan for my life.” Hitting such a minuscule bullseye more resembles a Grimm’s fairy tale or Disney happily-ever-after than a genuine possibility. How could I ever hope to find and experience God’s best in light of the mess I have made of things up to this point? Perhaps I have already relinquished His best and will never get another chance. If mistakes and poor choices along the way disqualify me from God’s plan, I might as well close up shop and waste away with a Mai Tai at Trader Vic’s. In reality, knowing and following God’s purposes is far less fairy tale and much more mystery; full of twists and turns, momentary or enduring suffering, disillusionment and ecstasy, disappointment versus victory, and, sometimes, deep dark secrets.

“Certainty is the mark of the commonsense life: gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, we do not know what a day may bring forth. This is generally said with a sigh of sadness, it should be rather an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God. Immediately we abandon to God, and do the duty that lies nearest, He packs our life with surprises all the time” (Oswald Chambers).

What if God’s plan includes all the afore mentioned struggles? What if the Father uses wreckage and mishap to move me ultimately to where He wants? It is at this point that advice from my seminary days comes to my aid. Homiletics professor Dr. Fasol told us the most important lesson we would learn in seminary and in life is simply, “Go with what you’ve got.” No excuses; be present in every moment and live to the glory of God, regardless of what failures crowd your past or how unprepared you are at the moment. Anything you conjure up as the ideal is likely just a figment of your imagination anyway. Disciples slug it out in the trenches; they do not recline in ease on summits of splendor. God’s perfect plan is to surrender this hour to Him and take the next step by faith.

“Elias was a man subject to like passions as we are.” James 5:17

Thank God for that! He got under a juniper tree, as you and I have often done; he complained and murmured, as we have often done; was unbelieving, as we have often been. But that was not the case when he really got into touch with God. Though “a man subject to like passions as we are,” “he prayed praying.”  It is sublime in the original–not “earnestly,” but “he prayed in prayer.” He kept on praying. What is the lesson here? You must keep praying.

Come up on the top of Carmel, and see that remarkable parable of Faith and Sight. It was not the descent of the fire that now was necessary, but the descent of the flood; and the man that can command the fire can command the flood by the same means and methods. We are told that he bowed himself to the ground with his face between his knees; that is, shutting out all sights and sounds. He was putting himself in a position where, beneath his mantle, he could neither see nor hear what was going forward. He said to his servant, “Go and take an observation.” He went and came back, and said—how sublimely brief! one  word—“Nothing!”

What do we do under such circumstances?

We say, “It is just as I expected!” and we give up praying. Did Elijah? No, he said, “Go again.” His servant again came back and said, “Nothing!” “Go again.” “Nothing!”

By and by he came back, and said, “There is a little cloud like a man’s hand.” A man’s hand had been raised in supplication, and presently down came the rain; and Ahab had not time to get back to the gate of Samaria with all his fast steeds. This is a parable of Faith and Sight—faith shutting itself up with God; sight taking observations and seeing nothing; faith going right on, and “praying in prayer,” with utterly hopeless reports from sight.

Do you know how to pray that way, how to pray prevailingly? Let sight give as discouraging reports as it may, but pay no attention to these. The living God is still in the heavens and even to delay is part of His goodness. (Streams in the Desert)

“God knows our situation; He will not judge us as if we had no difficulties to overcome. What matters is the sincerity and perseverance of our will to overcome them.” (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity)

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, when you face trials of many kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance, and perseverance must finish its work in order for you to be mature and complete.” James 1:2-4

Perseverance is more valuable than ability. What matters in life, is not what you achieve in any given moment, but rather what you willingly endure to the end. Many persons of tremendous promise sparkle like a sprinter bursting forth from the blocks, only to learn that ours is a marathon, not 100 meter dash. One-hit wonders do not make good disciples. Youth inevitably fades like hair color, and time becomes either our friend or bitter enemy. Make certain the handwriting on the wall does not translate, “Weighed in the balance and found wanting” (Daniel 5:27). Perhaps the most pragmatic statement in Scripture is, “Strengthen that which remains” (Rev 3:2). Whatever comes your way today is no surprise to the Father, so bend into the wind and plod forward toward the finish line by God’s mercy.

“When the Israelites cried out for help to the Lord, he raised up a deliverer for the Israelites who rescued them. His name was Othniel son of Kenaz, Caleb’s younger brother. The Lord’s spirit empowered him and he led Israel. When he went to do battle, the Lord handed over to him King Cushan-Rishathaim of Aram and he overpowered him.”  Judges 3:9-10

God is preparing His heroes; and when opportunity comes, He can fit them into their place in a moment, and the world will wonder where they came from. Let the Holy Ghost prepare you, dear friend, by the discipline of life; and when the last finishing touch has been given to the marble, it will be easy for God to put it on the pedestal, and fit it into its niche.

There is a day coming when, like Othniel, we, too, shall judge the nations, and rule and reign with Christ on the millennial earth. But ere that glorious day can be we must let God prepare us, as He did Othniel at Kirjath-sepher, amid the trials of our present life, and the little victories, the significance of which, perhaps, we little dream. At least, let us be sure of this, and if the Holy Ghost has an Othniel ready, the Lord of Heaven and earth has a throne prepared for him. (Streams in the Desert)

It is easy to lose eternity in the daily grind. I am certain Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. meant well when he said, “Some people are so heavenly minded that they are of no earthly good,” but problem is just the opposite. I tend to forget Heaven, or at the very least, ignore it. Absorbed with the press of work demands and financial responsibility, I muddle through a string of disconnected moments with no sense of what went before or what lies ahead. In the worst of ways, I whittle away my life treading water. I fall victim to garden-variety myopia when I refuse to see the Father at work in the mundane, and when I fail to recognize His voice midst the incessant racket that vies for my attention. Heaven is but a breath away, and God is even nearer than that. When we see this moment through the lens of eternity, both come into clearer focus.

“A continual looking forward to the eternal world is not (as some modern people think) a form of escapism or wishful thinking, but one of the things a Christian is meant to do. It does not mean that we are to leave the present world as it is.

If you read history you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were just those who thought most of the next. The Apostles themselves, who set on foot the conversion of the Roman Empire, the great men who built up the Middle Ages, the English Evangelicals who abolished the Slave Trade, all left their mark on Earth, precisely because their minds were occupied with Heaven.

It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this. Aim at Heaven and you will get earth ‘thrown in’: aim at earth and you will get neither.” (C. S. Lewis, in Mere Christianity)

“And the one who lives! I was dead, but look, now I am alive – forever and ever – and I hold the keys of death and of Hades!” Revelation 1:18

Flower! Easter lilies! Speak to me this morning the same dear old lesson of immortality which you have been speaking to so many sorrowing souls.

Wise old Book! let me read again in your pages of firm assurance that to die is gain.

Poets! recite to me your verses which repeat in every line the Gospel of eternal life.

Singers! break forth once more into songs of joy; let me hear again the well-known resurrection psalms.

Tree and blossom and bird and sea and sky and wind whisper it, sound it afresh, warble it, echo it, let it throb and pulsate through every atom and particle; let the air be filled with it.

Let it be told and retold and still retold until hope rises to conviction, and conviction to certitude of knowledge; until we, like Paul, even though going to our death, go with triumphant mien, with assured faith, and with serene and shining face. (Streams in the Desert)

I am not intelligent enough to explain in metaphysical detail what takes place when breath and heartbeat cease, but I am wise enough to admit that I do not know how to explain it. Some say death is the start of a gradual journey toward the ultimate reunion. My thoughts run counter to such linear speculation, for I see heaven as a matter of dimension, not distance. Heaven is not a far-off place—some biblical Land of Oz—and the Father is not, as Bette Midler sang, “in the distance.” Scripture throbs with passionate cadence that God is near, making heaven not a trip, but merely a step—what Marcus Borg calls “Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time.” For all that I’m worth, I believe that those who die in the Lord immediately meet Jesus again for the first time; the only waiting for them is for the opportunity to introduce us. (From Ordinary Glory: Finding Grace in the Commonplace by Dane Fowlkes)