I love vintage.  And I love modern.

Men and women of all ages and all eras speak wisdom of God.  Words of others inspire me to keep walking, step-by-step, with Jesus.  I depend on others’ writings to encourage me, comfort me, teach me, and fortify me.

Of course, all wisdom comes from God and only writings that dovetail with God’s Holy Word fill our deepest needs.  The literary vessels through whom God pours Himself are precious to me and I want to share their gift of words with you.

So, I’m starting something new here in this space I call True Life With God.

On Wednesdays, at least, I will still post what I sense the Lord is moving me to write, be it short or a bit longer.

On the other days, I will be sharing words of others I’ve read and reread, so thought-provoking and heart-moving they are to me.

Today’s words are about contrasts—seemingly opposite forces.  Are they really opposite?  Or are all part of God’s loving, sanctifying plan for our lives?

Today’s words comes from Robert Murray McCheyne (1813-1843), a Scottish minister:

“A believer is to be known not only by his peace and joy, but by his warfare and distress.  His peace is peculiar: it flows from Christ; it is heavenly, it is holy peace.  His warfare is as peculiar: it is deep-seated, agonizing, and ceases not till death.”

I wonder.

As Christians, as American Christians, do we seek peace and joy mostly?

Do we deny the reality that to identify with our suffering Christ, we too must suffer in order to bloom full and beautiful?

Why would a good God permit such suffering in us—in our world—if not to pull us closer to him who is our great Comforter, our Refining Fire, purifying us from all we believe we need, not knowing ourselves nearly as well as our Maker?  Our sovereign, all-loving God knows us better than we know ourselves.

We need God more than we need anything or anyone else.

Peace and joy.  Warfare and distress.

It’s not an either/or.  It’s a both/and.  At least not if you want to go all the way with Jesus.

Sometimes our greatest desire for wholeness forces like the tulips to accept what seems not natural.

Truth is, we can trust the holy hand who created us in perfect love.  Trusting God—a perfectly loving God— fortifies us to stay the course unto holiness where, one day Jesus will lift our veil, gaze into our eyes, and say . . .

“Welcome home.  I have prepared a place for you.  Let me carry you over the threshold, my love.”

Please Lord, never let me be content to stay lukewarm toward you.  Fan the flames of passion in me such that I am willing to face whatever “warfare and distress” you allow in my life.  I believe you will give me your grace to sustain me, no matter how I shake and cry out.  You will bring me through the fire, fashioned and refined according to your perfect plan—for.  And so it shall be for all who long for you with all their heart, soul, and mind.