DANE FOWLKES

“By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed.” Hebrews 11:8

It is by no means enough to set out cheerfully with your God on any venture of faith. Tear into smallest pieces any itinerary for the journey which your imagination may have drawn up. Nothing will fall out as you expect. Your guide will keep to no beaten path. He will lead you by a way such as you never dreamed your eyes would look upon. He knows no fear, and He expects you to fear nothing while He is with you. (Streams in the Desert)

What if God is uninterested in my happiness but eternally committed to my Christlikeness? I commenced missionary orientation with wide-eyed naïveté more than twenty years ago, subconsciously convinced of my own invincibility and God’s commitment to my indestructibility; however, missionary training took an unexpected turn in the jarring opening statement by one of the orientation speakers. Maurice Graham, Southern Baptist missionary to Kuwait, was one of several Americans held hostage during the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in August of 1990. His liberation came on December 9, the day Southern Baptists had been asked to pray specifically for Graham’s release. I will never forget the impact as he stood before all of us wet-behind-the-ears would-be missionaries and said, “God is not concerned about your personal comfort. He is committed to His glory.” He went on to describe his terrible ordeal in detail, and for the first time that I can remember, the world shifted slightly away from me as its axis. I have wrestled with Graham’s statement many times since then, and each time my center moves a little more God’s direction.

Scripture is replete with reassurances that God knows us, loves us, and desires for each of us an abundant life (John 10:10), but this abundance is less tied to momentary happiness, and far more connected to enduring joy. Faith lifts my gaze beyond this moment. Happiness is a momentary emotion based on an ever-shifting set of circumstances; joy is an enduring character trait forged on the unchanging standard of the Incarnate Word, Jesus the Christ. Joy consists of grand abundance in facing every circumstance with the character of Christ.

“Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men! Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for power equal to your tasks” (Phillips Brooks).

Faith produces strength of character necessary to embrace abundance over against the tempting self-serving lure of transient pleasure.

“Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.” (1 Peter 1:8-9, NIV)

“I trust in thy word.” Psalm 119:42

Just in proportion in which we believe that God will do just what He has said, is our faith strong or weak. Faith has nothing to do with feelings, or with impressions, with improbabilities, or with outward appearances. If we desire to couple them with faith, then we are no longer resting on the Word of God because faith needs nothing of the kind. Faith rests on the naked Word of God. When we take Him at His Word, the heart is at peace.

Trials and difficulties are not the only means by which faith is exercised and thereby increased. There is the reading of the Scriptures, that we may by them acquaint ourselves with God as He has revealed Himself in His Word. Are you able to say, from the acquaintance you have made with God, that He is a lovely Being? If not, let me affectionately entreat you to ask God to bring you to this, that you may admire His gentleness and kindness, that you may be able to say how good He is, and what a delight it is to the heart of God to do good to His children. Now the nearer we come to this in our inmost souls, the more ready we are to leave ourselves in His hands, satisfied with all His dealings with us. (Streams in the Desert)

There is something to be said in favor of going through the motions. This may be explained in two words—muscle memory. When you need it, the tedious repetition kicks in and gets you through the rough spot. Athletes know that well executed repetition is their greatest ally when the stress level is high and victory on the line. They trust their muscles to flex and respond on demand without conscious effort. Discipleship, too, requires a great deal of ‘muscle memory’—holy rehearsal that results in pushing through the monotonous and mundane that constitutes much of what we call spirituality. Habits form by praying when we don’t feel like it, reading Scripture when we are bored with it, and living by faith when all evidence screams and pulls to the contrary, steeling us for whatever lies ahead. Faith is not as mysterious as one might think; trust results from repetition. Each right response to doubt and disappointment triggers future obedience. Sanctification is not measured by emotion response at any given moment, but by the residual effect of spiritual muscle memory.

“For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: so shall we ever be with the Lord.” 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17

It was “very early in the morning” while “it was yet dark,” that Jesus rose from the dead. Not the sun, but only the morning-star shone upon His opening tomb. The shadows had not fled, the citizens of Jerusalem had not awaked. It was still night—the hour of sleep and darkness, when He arose. Nor did his rising break the slumbers of the city. So shall it be “very early in the morning while it is yet dark,” and when nought but the morning-star is shining, that Christ’s body, the Church, shall arise. Like Him, His saints shall awake when the children of the night and darkness are still sleeping their sleep of death. In their arising they disturb no one. The world hears not the voice that summons them. As Jesus laid them quietly to rest, each in his own still tomb, like children in the arms of their mother; so, as quietly, as gently, shall He awake them when the hour arrives. To them come the quickening words, “Awake and sing, ye that dwell in dust” (Isa. 26:19). Into their tomb the earliest ray of glory finds its way. They drink in the first gleams of morning, while as yet the eastern clouds give but the faintest signs of the uprising. Its genial fragrance, its soothing stillness, its bracing freshness, its sweet loneliness, its quiet purity, all so solemn and yet so full of hope, these are theirs. (Streams in the Desert)

My good friend and neighbor across the lane enhanced my vocabulary this morning. Our paths typically intersect en route to set out trash for pickup. I look forward to these casual opportunities to swap snippets of theology and offer morsels for meditation throughout the week ahead. A handful of us gather for worship on Sunday nights in Dick’s recording studio near his house, so Monday mornings are a good occasion for reflection. Dick is essentially a philosopher who happens to also be an accomplished musician, and I enjoy when he shares what he is reading at the moment, or an experience that sets him to thinking. Today, my musically inclined philosopher friend shared over trash cans a new word added to his vocabulary from his current reading. The word is “dotage.” He explained that at first he thought it had something to do with doting over someone, like a proud mother does to a cherished son, but that isn’t it at all. It holds a far more sobering meaning. Dotage is the stage of life when health, vigor, and mental faculties deteriorate (“you could live here and look after me in my dotage”). These are declining years, the autumn or even winter of one’s life.

Dick dropped this linguistic bomb then bade me farewell, leaving me to contemplate my own dotage while wearily toting garbage the remaining distance to its appointed place. For some odd reason I suddenly felt years older. Perhaps the soreness in my lower back is not merely muscle strain, it is muscular degeneration, and the fatigue I feel isn’t caused by overwork, it is due to deteriorating physique. Almost as suddenly, Scripture sprang to the rescue and arrested my mental downward spiral: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” (Lamentations 3:22-23, ESV). Oh, the wonder of the thought—fresh mercy every morning! I may be sauntering into the autumn of life or slogging unaware through aging’s winter snow, but God’s grace never tires and Christ’s mercy is always young.

“And the hand of the Lord was there upon me; and he said unto me, Arise, go forth unto the plain, and I will there talk with thee.” Ezekiel 3:22

Did you ever hear of any one being much used for Christ who did not have some special waiting time, some complete upset of all his or her plans first; from St. Paul’s being sent off into the desert of Arabia for three years, when he must have been boiling over with the glad tidings, down to the present day? God’s love being unchangeable, He is just as loving when we do not see or feel His love. Also His love and His sovereignty are co-equal and universal; so He withholds the enjoyment and conscious progress because He knows best what will really ripen and further His work in us.

God provides resting places as well as working places. Rest, then, and be thankful when He brings you, wearied to a wayside well. (Streams in the Desert)

I am, to state it mildly, directionally-challenged. My wife frequently wonders aloud how I ever found my way to any destination prior to the advent of the handheld GPS. I assure her that I navigated the African savannah quite well on my own, thank you very much. All I had to do was steer toward the next outcropping on the horizon. The truth is, I have always struggled to keep my bearings without a visual reference point. Losing sight of where you are headed is a fast track to becoming lost.

Today’s trials threaten to steal my hope and confidence that all of this makes sense somehow. Hopelessness is a strain of spiritual amnesia; I lose sight of whose I am and where I am headed. God never induces a comatose existence, leaving me numb and disconnected from the moment; while not always removing or resolving my strife, grace reminds that this momentary struggle is part of a journey that leads back home. One of the prized books on my shelf is entitled, “No Picnic On Mount Kenya;” it describes the ordeal of Italian prisoners of war who escaped and climbed their way to freedom over Africa’s tallest peaks. Today may not resemble a picnic in any shape, form, or fashion, but the beauty of it all is that our Father is helping us over boulders on our way back home.

“And Jesus being full of the Holy Ghost returned From Jordan, and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, being forty days tempted of the devil.” Luke 4:1-2

Jesus was full of the Holy Ghost, and yet He was tempted. Temptation often comes upon a man with its strongest power when he is nearest to God. As someone has said, “The devil aims high.” He got one apostle to say he did not even know Christ.

If a man has much of the Spirit of God, he will have great conflicts with the tempter. God permits temptation because it does for us what the storms do for the oaks–it roots us; and what the fire does for the paintings on the porcelain–it makes them permanent.

You never know that you have a grip on Christ, or that He has a grip on you, as well as when the devil is using all his force to attract you from Him; then you feel the pull of Christ’s right hand. (Streams in the Desert)

“The word temptation has come to mean something bad to us today, but we tend to use the word in the wrong way. Temptation itself is not sin; it is something we are bound to face simply by virtue of being human. Not to be tempted would mean that we were already so shameful that we would be beneath contempt. Yet many of us suffer from temptations we should never have to suffer, simply because we have refused to allow God to lift us to a higher level where we would face temptations of another kind” (Oswald Chambers).

Temptation is not unnatural or necessarily devastating. Each temptation is an opportunity to reveal what we are made of, and to step forward into greater character strength and Christlikeness. Fearing temptation is largely due to subliminal doubt built upon layers of previous failure. Thankfully, we may turn the tide at any moment. The next strong response fosters future strength; overcoming leads to overcoming. Just as exposure produces immunity, rightly handled temptation steels against a repeat of the same and yields enhanced rigidity against assorted future attacks. Work at building godly character; withstanding temptation is the hallmark of holiness.

“What I tell you in the darkness, speak ye in the light.” Matthew 10:27

Our Lord is constantly taking us into the dark, that He may tell us things. Into the dark of the shadowed home, where bereavement has drawn the blinds; into the dark of the lonely, desolate life, where some infirmity closes us in from the light and stir of life; into the dark of some crushing sorrow and disappointment. Then He tells us His secrets, great and wonderful, eternal and infinite; He causes the eye which has become dazzled by the glare of earth to behold the heavenly constellations; and the car to detect the undertones of His voice, which is often drowned amid the tumult of earth’s strident cries.

But such revelations always imply a corresponding responsibility—‘that speak ye in the light—that proclaim upon the housetops.” We are not meant to always linger in the dark, or stay in the closet; presently we shall be summoned to take our place in the rush and storm of life; and when that moment comes, we are to speak and proclaim what we have learned. (Streams in the Desert)

I make the hour-and-a-half drive from my home to Dallas on Monday evenings to teach a class of graduate students. The hour is late and the drive becomes increasingly demanding as the semester lingers and other responsibilities hold priority; still, I look for ways to make the drive time beneficial so that I do not begrudge the three hour commute as wasted time. On longer trips I listen to books on CD, and my wife and I do the same together on vacation drives, but the shorter journey is more conducive to listening to music. Half way through this Monday’s trip northbound on Interstate 35 I inserted a musical CD I received back at Christmas.

I drove impassively, minding my own business on the construction laden freeway when track three began. The Tommy Coomes Band crooned its own arrangement of the age old hymn, “I Stand Amazed in the Presence.” The hymn, written by Charles H. Gabriel in the late 19th Century, is so familiar to me from my childhood in church that I know the lyrics by heart, but for some unexplained reason on this drive at that particular moment, I listened to the words as if hearing them for the first time.

“I stand amazed in the presence
of Jesus the Nazarene,
and wonder how he could love me,
a sinner, condemned unclean.
How marvelous! How wonderful!
and my song shall ever be;
How marvelous! How wonderful!
is my Savior’s love to me!”

I sang out loud with the soundtrack and began bawling like a baby as my heart erupted:

“… He took my sins and my sorrows

And He made them His very own

And bore the burden to Calvary

And suffered and died alone…”

I am not prone to emotional outbursts, and certainly not accustomed to outstretched arms and having tears trail down my face while driving on a busy interstate, but the intersection of divine revelation and personal need released a flood of gratitude and praise that would not be silenced. Light destroys darkness, and joy shatters silence. Worship breaks free when God’s Spirit touches our spirit in a way that allows us to see both He and ourselves as we are. When heaven in the heart is exposed for all the world to see, we are changed as well as those around us.

“And when with the ransomed in glory

His face I at last shall see

It will be my joy through the ages

To sing of His love for me.”

“Show me wherefore thou contendest with me.” Job 10:2

God trains His soldiers, not in tents of ease and luxury, but by turning them out and using them to forced marches and hard service. He makes them ford through streams, and swim through rivers and climb mountains, and walk many a weary mile with heavy knapsacks on their backs. Well, Christian, may not this account for the troubles through which you are passing? Is not this the reason why He is contending with you?

To be left unmolested by Satan is no evidence of blessing. (Streams in the Desert)

There is no saving faith apart from a crisis of faith; there can be no new horizon for faith without a mountain to climb. Discipleship demands growth, and growth results from addressing and conquering successive challenges. Worship that lulls into narcissistic slumber is not authentic. Genuine faith always draws me out of myself and refocuses all on Christ. It is not enough to have your heart moved; you must move your feet. Take the first step or the next step. God orchestrates moments of holy discontent to prevent us from settling for the comforts of this world.

Do not fear. Acknowledge your problems on your knees, then get back on your feet and advance. Jesus relentlessly offers us unsafe situations to make us braver Christians. Adversity requires us to either seek safety or seek courage. The Father wants us to be brave for our own benefit—God knows there is no joy in fear. We lead sad and small lives when we are afraid. He needs brave people to do His work in the world. We are called to tell the truth in a world of lies, to love people in need in a hurting world; this will be dangerous. Following Jesus eventually demands us to either be brave or be safe; we cannot do both. Choosing to be brave means choosing not to be safe. The goodness of God shows through the courage of the people of God. Discipleship is by design a dangerous adventure. When you catch yourself saying “I’ll follow if,” or praying, “Tell me the path, tell me the cost, tell me it will succeed,” you can know the Father responds by saying:

“But if I do that, I wouldn’t have to make you brave. I love you more than that.”

“All these things are against me.” Genesis 42:36

“All things work together for good to them that love God.” Romans 8:28

When God wants to bring more power into your life, He brings more pressure. He is generating spiritual force by hard rubbing. Some do not like it and try to run away from the pressure, instead of getting the power and using it to rise above the painful causes. Opposition is essential to a true equilibrium of forces. The centripetal and centrifugal forces acting in opposition to each other keep our planet in her orbit. The one propelling, and the other repelling, so act and re-act, that instead of sweeping off into space in a pathway of desolation, she pursues her even orbit around her solar centre.

So God guides our lives. It is not enough to have an impelling force—we need just as much a repelling force, and so He holds us back by the testing ordeals of life, by the pressure of temptation and trial, by the things that seem against us, but really are furthering our way and establishing our goings.

Let us thank Him for both, let us take the weights as well as the wings, and thus divinely impelled, let us press on with faith and patience in our high and heavenly calling. (Streams in the Desert)

Spiritual power is produced by hard rubbing, but there is a fine line between strength and callous. Few of us determine the degree of hardship and challenge we face, but each of us decide their effect upon us. I prayed just this morning for a former college classmate serving at great personal sacrifice in an orphanage in Uganda, who endures wave after wave of difficulty, yet does so with a heart of worship and faith. Another dear former missionary colleague tenderly cares for his wife who is succumbing to Alzheimer’s. They display strength and beauty despite the ravages of a hideous disease. Still another family I love and served with in East Africa is pushing through arduous treatment for a son with leukemia. I would alleviate the suffering of these if it were within my ability to do so, but doubt they would choose an out if offered to them. Sacrifice does not exempt from suffering, but deepens the weight of glory in those that turn to the Father rather than away from Him in the press.

“Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.”  2 Corinthians 12:10

The literal translation of this verse gives a startling emphasis to it, and makes it speak for itself with a force that we have probably never realized. Here It is: “Therefore I take pleasure in being without strength, in insults, in being pinched, in being chased about, in being cooped up in a corner for Christ’s sake; for when I am without strength, then am I dynamite.”

Here is the secret of Divine all-sufficiency, to come to the end of everything in ourselves and in our circumstances. When we reach this place, we will stop asking for sympathy because of our hard situation or bad treatment, for we will recognize these things as the very conditions of our blessing, and we will turn from them to God and find in them a claim upon Him. (Streams in the Desert)

God never gets the blues. For him to be moody would imply that one moment he is better than he is at another, and that would be heresy. “God is the same yesterday, today, and forever.” Yet, I wrestle regularly with the self-imposed inclination to gauge God’s goodness (or its opposite) according to the transitory and unreliable emotion (my own) of the moment, as if his character fluctuated like the Dow Jones. Why do I insist on attempting to recreate God in my own image? For lack of any better explanation, I am forced to admit that I do so when feeling powerless because I want a God who knows and is intimately involved, but when life unfolds the way I want, I prefer his mood to shift toward indifference.  I seem to prefer a god who is little more than the elongated reflection of myself.

“Father, break through my self-orientation and bend me to the wholly Other. Radically impose your heart and superimpose real faces on your will, but do not allow them to be my own. Open my eyes to recognize you at work in my aching joints, in strained relationships, in family members I desperately long to influence toward the Cross, in my wife who I pray detects in me Jesus implementing a towel. Reproduce yourself in me so fully that I embody the hope of glory.”

“to whom God was pleased to make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Colossians 1:27 RV1885

“Their strength is to sit still.” Isaiah 30:7

In order really to know God, inward stillness is absolutely necessary. I remember when I first learned this. A time of great emergency had risen in my life, when every part of my being seemed to throb with anxiety, and when the necessity for immediate and vigorous action seemed overpowering; and yet circumstances were such that I could do nothing, and the person who could, would not stir.

For a little while it seemed as if I must fly to pieces with the inward turmoil, when suddenly the still small voice whispered in the depths of my soul, “Be still, and know that I am God.” The word was with power, and I hearkened. I composed my body to perfect stillness, and I constrained my troubled spirit into quietness, and looked up and waited; and then I did “know” that it was God, God even in the very emergency and in my helplessness to meet it; and I rested in Him. It was an experience that I would not have missed for worlds; and I may add also, that out of this stillness seemed to arise a power to deal with the emergency, that very soon brought it to a successful issue. I learned then effectually that my “strength was to sit still.” (Streams in the Desert)

Stillness is a gift that requires a goodly measure of effort on my part. I find that that sacred space fuels the right frame of mind to be still and remember Who is God. My own sanctuary is a small wooden structure with metal roof and stained glass windows that I designed for house plants but find well suited for meditating and writing. I built the greenhouse for my wife, but sit here often, accompanied by a small assortment of Kimberly Queen ferns, a potato vine that insists on conquering its surroundings, a Bird’s Nest fern, a grapevine that yielded grapes last month and then needed an escape from the summer sun, and an understated begonia. It is an eclectic mix. Tonight I am able to see across the way to our neighbor’s fire pit. We have had enough rain this spring to lift the burn ban, so “Sparky” (my wife’s nickname for our neighbor) is making the most of his window of incendiary freedom. Life on a country lane is simple, especially after dark. Nights are a gift from God.

As a child the dark terrified me. I remember crouching in bed, pulling covers overhead like a cotton force field, and quoting mantra-like the first Bible verse I ever committed to memory—“What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee” (Psalm 56:3). The night no longer frightens me; in fact, I embrace it as solace for body and spirit. Insects exclaim the glory of their Creator while I do the same in mind and heart. Distant traffic sounds encourage me by virtue of the fact they remain in the distance. This space to be and the close of a day to consider what it means to be, are divine gifts, ones I guard jealously. When schedules become hectic and demands on my time exceed my ability to fulfill them, I experience the full grief cycle, albeit in a shortened span: denial, anger, acceptance. But tonight there is no grief, no anger, and nothing to accept apart from a peace so strong that it must be a sweet shadow of the greater peace that awaits beyond time and space. Author Barbara Brown Taylor encourages just such a transformed view of the night in “Learning to Walk in the Dark.”  Instead of avoiding the dark’s mystery or opposing it as some nocturnal enemy, try seeing it as a gift. Pause, remember, evaluate, meditate, dream, pray, and most of all, enjoy.

“I will give you the treasures of darkness and riches hidden in secret places, so that you may know that it is I, the Lord, the God of Israel, who call you by your name.” Isaiah 45:3 KJV