God the Father
God’s fatherly relationship with Jesus implies four things. First it implies authority. The father commands and disposes; the initiative which he calls his Son to exercise in resolute obedience to his Father’s will. Second, it implies affection; third, fellowship; fourth, honor: God wills to exalt his Son.
All this extends to God’s adopted children. In, through, and under Jesus Christ their Lord, they are ruled, loved, accompanied, and honored by their heavenly Father.
As Jesus obeyed God, so must they (1 John 5:1,3). As God loved his only-begotten Son, so he loves his adopted sons (John 16:27). As God had fellowship with Jesus, so he does with us (1 John 1:3). As God exalted Jesus, so he exalts Jesus’ followers, as brothers and sisters in one family (John 12:32; 17:24).
In these terms the Bible teaches us to understand the shape and substance of the parent-child relationship which binds together the Father of Jesus and the servant of Jesus.
We are Christ’s Heirs
Watchman Nee tells about a new convert who came in deep distress to see him. “No matter how much I pray, no matter how hard I try, I simply cannot seem to be faithful to my Lord. I think I’m losing my salvation.” Nee said, “Do you see this dog here? He is my dog. He is house-trained; he never makes a mess; he is obedient; he is a pure delight to me. Out in the kitchen I have a son, a baby son. He makes a mess, he throws his food around, he fouls his clothes, he is a total mess. But who is going to inherit my kingdom? Not my dog; my son is my heir. You are Jesus Christ’s heir because it is for you that He died.” We are Christ’s heirs, not through our perfection but by means of His grace.
Had to Bury His Own Wife and Son
Not long after arriving in new Hebrides as a pioneer missionary, John G. Paton and his wife rejoiced in the coming of a baby son to gladden their home. But the joy was short-lived. Soon death took both his wife and child, and Dr. Paton had to dig their graves and bury his loved ones with his own hands. In writing of this experience, he testified, “If it had not been for Jesus and the fellowship and grace He afforded me, I am certain I would have gone mad or died of grief beside their lonely graves.” Marvelously strengthened from above, the bereaved servant of God found that the promises of the Word were able to sustain him through the heartache and sorrow of his tragic loss.
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- We should be thankful for our tears: They prepare us for a clearer vision of God. - William A. Ward
It Almost Never Rains Here
In northern Chile, between the Andes Mountains and the Pacific Ocean, lies a narrow strip of land where the sun shines every day! Clouds gather so seldom over the valley that one can say, “It almost never rains here!”
Morning after morning the sun rises brilliantly over the tall mountains to the east. Each noon it shines brightly overhead, and every evening it brings a picturesque sunset. Although storms are often seen rising high in the mountains, and heavy fog banks hand their gray curtains far over the sea, Old Sol continues to shed his warming rays upon this “favored” and protected strip of territory. One might imagine this area to be an earthly paradise, but is far from that! It is a sterile and desolate wilderness! There are no streams of water, and nothing grows there. We often long for total sunshine and continuous joy in life, and we desire to avoid the heartaches that bring tears to our eyes. Like that sunny, unfertile part of Chile, however, life without clouds and even an occasional downpour would not be productive or challenging. But though showers do come, they will also end, and the sun will shine again.
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5).
Crying
Crying is common in this world. It does little good to ask the reason for it. Muddyscuttle is what one might call a weeping planet. Laughter can be heard here and there, but by and large, weeping predominates. With maturity the sound and reason for crying changes, but never does it stop. All infants do it everywhere—even in public. By adulthood most crying is done alone and in the dark. Weeping, for babies, is a sign of health and evidence that they are alive. Isn’t this a chilling omen? Not laughter but tears is the life sign. It leaves weeping and being synonyms.
Weaving
My life is but a weaving between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors He worketh steadily.
Oft times he weaveth sorrow and I in foolish pride forget
He sees the upper and I the underside.
Not till the loom is silent and the shuttle ceases to fly shall
God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.
Wife and Son Died
In 1858 Scottish missionary John G. Paton and his wife sailed for the New Hebrides (now called Vanuatu) Three months after arriving on the island of Tanna, his wife died. One week later his infant son also died. Paton was plunged into sorrow. Feeling terribly alone, and surrounded by savage people who showed him no sympathy, he wrote, “Let those who have ever passed through any similar darkness as of midnight feel for me. As for all other, it would be more than vain to try to paint my sorrows...But for Jesus, and [His} fellowship..., I [would] have gone mad and died.”
Gold
Let thy gold be cast in the furnace,
The red gold, precious and bright;
Do not fear the hungry fire,
With its caverns of burning light;
And thy gold shall return more precious,
Free from every spot and stain;
For gold must be tried by fire,
As a heart must be tried by pain!
In the cruel fire of Sorrow
Cast thy heart, do not faint or wail;
Let thy hand be firm and steady
Do not let thy spirit quail:
But wait till the trial is over
And take thy heart again;
For as gold is tried by fire,
So a heart must be tried by pain!
I shall know by the gleam and the glitter
Of the golden chain you wear,
By your heart’s calm strength in loving,
Of the fire they have had to bear.
Beat on, true heart, forever!
Shine bright, strong golden chain!
And bless the cleansing fire,
And the furnace of living pain!
- Adelaide Anne Proctor
The Road Is Too Rough
“The road is too rough,” I said,
“Dear Lord, there are stones that hurt me so.”
And He said, “Dear child, I understand,
I walked it long ago.”
“But there’s a cool green path,” I said;
“Let me walk there for a time.”
“No child,” He gently answered me,
“The green path does not climb.”
“My burden,” I said, “Is far too great,
How can I bear it so?”
“My child,” He said, “I remember the weight;
I carried My cross, you know.”
But I said, “I wish there were friends with me
Who would make my way their own.”
“Oh, yes,” He said, “Gethsemane
Was hard to bear alone.”
And so I climb the stony path,
Content at last to know
That where my Master had not gone,
I would not need to go.
And strangely then I found new friends,
The burden grew less sore;
And I remember—long ago
He went that way before.
- Olga J. Weiss