Tag Archives: Elisabeth Elliott

When I feel so useless..

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Declare what is to be, present it – let them take counsel together. Who foretold this long ago, who declared it from the distant past? Was it not I, the Lord? And there is no God apart from me, a righteous God and a Saviour; there is none but me…

“Listen to me, O house of Jacob, all you who remain of the house of Israel, you whom I have upheld since you were conceived, and  carried since your birth. Even to your old age and grey hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you. 

I am God, and there is no other; I am God and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please… What I have said, that will I bring about; what I have planned, that will I do… I will grant salvation to Zion, my splendour to Israel.

(Is 45.21; 46.3&4,9&10,13)

“When [our plans] are interrupted, his are not. His plans are proceeding exactly as scheduled, moving us always (including those minutes or hours or years which seem most useless, or wasted, or unendurable).” (Elisabeth Elliot; 1926-2015)

The sun is splitting the skies, the birds are singing and there is a tangible excitement as spring dances on the edge of our days, with so much light and colour and the promise of more to come.

And I am unwell; confined to the house; moving stiff and carefully; sleeping badly and feeling as though my world has contracted to a tiny space. What will I do with this challenge? Last week, I wrote that our speech and actions should not be determined by our circumstances… and now I am labouring to prove the strength of the Lord in pursuing patience, gentleness and acceptance of his plan for these days.

Such situations are always a good exercise in recognising how our ego likes to continually add up ‘worth-points’, totting up every activity on some invisible register which somehow makes me significant or valued by God. It is humbling when – as now – there is nothing to add up! Will I accept that for the moment, my Lord asks me to embrace inactivity, weakness and discomfort, and in and through those things, to find ways to praise him? There is so much to be thankful for; will I poison those good things by resenting what God has chosen to withhold? And surely that would show clearly that I value the gifts much more than their giver..

So often in these situations, I go to Elisabeth Elliot’s strong spiritual sense – she never pretended to anyone that being a Christian would be a bed of roses, and her uncompromising words brace me, showing me the truth – that my furious rejection of this season of illness is simply a tantrum of self, and a refusal to trust that God is good, and has a right to do as he pleases with his creation. I am not indispensable, and I am loved, saved and accepted not because of what I do, but because of Jesus’ love and death for me.

I have been brought into relationship with the God of creation, the Almighty and eternal One in order that I might share in his great purposes for the kingdom of Jesus. Do I believe that He will complete what He has begun? If I do, then my own part – anything which I can do is a privilege and not a means of earning my place – is entirely up to God to direct, and certainly not up to me to dictate! Pride and self-importance have no place in this relationship, all comes to me as God’s free and loving gift. The challenging and austere words of William Law show me how I can truly glorify the Lord in the trials of this time.. and also show me how very far I am from that state of highest faith and deepest trust.. may the Lord have mercy and sustain me to glorify him in whatever he may decree should lie ahead.

“Receive every inward and outward trouble, every disappointment, pain, uneasiness, temptation, darkness and desolation, with both thy hands, as a true opportunity and a blessed occasion of dying to self, and entering into a fuller relationship with thy self-denying and suffering saviour.

Look at no inward or outward trouble in any other view, reject every other thought about it: and then every kind of trial and distress will become the blessed day of thy prosperity. That state is best, which exerciseth the highest faith in, and fullest resignation to God.” (William Law; 1686-1761)

Actively waiting…

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Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God”? Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. he does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.

 (Isa 40. 27-31)

As you live this new life, we pray that you will be strengthened from God’s boundless resources, so that you will find yourselves able to pass through any experience and endure it with joy. You will even be able to thank God in the midst of pain and distress because you are privileged to share the lot of those who are living in the light. For we must never forget that he rescued us from the power of darkness, and re-established us in the kingdom of his beloved Son. For it is by his Son alone that we have been redeemed and have had our sins forgiven.

(Col 1.11-14; JB Phillips paraphrase)

Waiting on God requires the willingness to bear uncertainty, to carry within oneself the unanswered question, lifting the heart to God about it whenever it intrudes upon one’s thoughts.

(Elisabeth Elliott)

As servants of our Lord Jesus, in one sense we are always ‘waiting’ on the Lord, because each day brings new opportunities to meet and serve him – in his people, in the tasks to which we are called, in appreciating all the good things he gives us. In another sense, we have seasons of waiting – perhaps for the arrival of a child, the outcome of a medical procedure, the termination of a time of testing at work, the occasions when decisions have to be taken about employment, retirement, choosing a house or a spouse. There are always things which we would like to have decided NOW, when God asks us to be patient, and to trust him as we wait for clarity, direction and decisions – the latter often lie in other hands and we are thus spared the temptation to fiddle with the process and accelerate it for ourselves! And ultimately, we are all waiting for the return of the Lord and the full inauguration of his kingdom, with the creation of new heavens and earth and his rule of justice, righteousness and peace.

What do we do in our waiting time? How do we deal with uncertainty and the challenges of day-to-day living when big questions seem to shake our foundations and make planning for the future so difficult?

The answer surely lies in the fact that we trust in a sovereign, good and gracious God – in other words, we accept that we cannot control or know the future, but that we are loved by the one who does! So we also accept that uncertainty is a prompt to faith, to cling to God’s word and promises, and to trust that his timing is perfect.

There are many questions to which I would like answers now, quite valid ones! But I must wait on the Lord’s timing, and in the meantime, I have a choice to make about my attitude to what is going on. If I choose trust, then I am proclaiming God’s sovereignty over my life, and my glad submission to his will. If I choose trust, then I can be busy each day with the tasks which are immediately to hand – I can look to serve his kingdom with the freedom and resources I have today. If I choose trust, then each day I am waiting on the Lord to do his will, and I will be strengthened to do so, to be about my Father’s business, and also surely also be in the best place to receive his guidance and direction for the future.

Friends, let us pray for one another, for this wisdom.

Eternal Father, and sovereign Lord of our lives, grant us we pray the wisdom to wait upon you each day in faith and trust. Your plans for us are perfect, and you have work for us to do each day which will build your kingdom. Help us to leave the unanswered questions to your time and answer, to be about your business and not to fret over a future which is not ours to dictate or forsee.

As we wait on you each day, may we find strength for the tasks at hand, and also for the waiting, for the offering up of the questions as often as they arise, for the deliberate choice to trust you in all things. Be glorified in us we pray, through Jesus our Lord who most perfectly waited on you through all his days, Amen.

A daily, hourly decision…

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“Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven… Anyone who loves their father or mother… their son or daughter, more than me, is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me.

(Matt 10.32,37&38)

[Jesus]  told them what they could expect for themselves: “Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat – I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to finding yourself, your true self.

(Lk 9.23&24, The Message)

Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honour the one who serves me. Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour?’ No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name!”

(Jn 12.26-28)

And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

(Heb 12.2&3)

When the will of God crosses the will of man, somebody has to die.

(Addison Leitch , quoted by Elisabeth Elliott in Passion and Purity, 2nd edition, 2014)

What does it mean to walk in ‘the way of the Cross?’ It is no uncharted road, although for each of us the particular features of the landscape through which we walk might be different. It is a road clearly marked out for us by Jesus, and the only way in which to truly live as one who has crowned Christ as Lord in their heart. It is a path which requires us continually to say – with Jesus – ‘Father, your will be done, not mine. Glorify your name in my life.’

To walk in the way of the Cross is to admit before God that my own desires are tainted and unreliable as a guide, that sin has cut me off from right-thinking and choosing, that I cannot trust myself to see what is good and what is evil. It is to return to the choices in Eden, and instead of stretching out my hand to take what is forbidden, I put my hand into God’s hand and ask his help to accept his definitions of good and evil.

If Christ died to save me, so that I can live in God’s love for ever, then surely I am motivated to surrender to his Lordship in all of my life. It is both a sacrifice of self and a joyful offering of my desires and will to God, as I learn to put His will first and centre.  Unwillingness to surrender will indicate those places in my life where I am denying Christ’s authority, and failing to trust in his love and goodness. Is Christ Lord of my budget? Is He Lord of my affections? Is He more precious to me than ambition or a good reputation and popularity in my community?

As we grow in faith and maturity as believers, God shapes our desires and wills, and we become increasingly like Christ. Many of our decisions and actions are good and just, and we are living gracious, God-honouring lives. But there will always be more to let go, and fresh occasions for surrender. As we keep focussing on Christ and his resolution to submit entirely to God’s will, do God’s work and seek God’s glory, we can be encouraged. It was not easy for our Lord,  so he understands how we struggle and shrink from the pain that God’s will for us may entail.  He also shows us that there is joy in such costly obedience and an eternal reward to be enjoyed. 

Friends, let us pray for grace to discern where self is masquerading as wisdom, prudence and even kindness to others, so that we may follow Christ to the place of surrender and reject our wills where they contradict God. Let us pray for strength to endure, and faith to motivate our daily choices – believing that when God says this is best, he can be trusted…

The Scottish minister, George Matheson, wrote of this paradox of losing one’s life to find it in this classic hymn of dependence and commitment:

Make me a captive, Lord, and then I shall be free.
Force me to render up my sword and I shall conqueror be.
I sink in life’s alarms when by myself I stand;
Imprison me within thine arms, and strong shall be my hand.

My will is not my own till thou hast made it thine;
If it would reach a monarch’s throne, it must its crown resign.
It only stands unbent amid the clashing strife
When on thy bosom it has leant, and found in thee its life.

(George Matheson 1842-1906)

When life gets holes in it….

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Lord, God of my rescue, by day I cried out, by night, in you presence. May my prayer come before you. Incline your ear to my song. For I am sated with evils and my life reached the brink of Sheol..

You put me in the nethermost pit, in darkness, in the depths. Your wrath lay hard upon me, and all your breakers you inflicted… My eyes ache from affliction. I called on you, Lord, every day. I stretched out to you my palms..

As for me – to you, Lord, I shouted, and in the morn my prayer would greet you. Why, Lord, do you abandon my life, do you hide your face from me?

(Ps 88.1-3,7,8,10, 14&15)

I know someone who describes their existence since the experience of early widowhood as being like ‘life in black and white’. She is one of the most godly women I have ever known, and her life as a widow has been full of service to others and relative peace and contentment. And yet… all the colour and joy has gone.

Are you mourning today? The death of a spouse, the death of a sibling, the death of a child? The passing of a parent, or a close friend? The loss of health and autonomy? The loss of satisfying employment or a precious relationship? The loss of a dream? The loss of hope for reconciliation and renewal?  What do we do when life seems to be ripped apart by loss, when the reality of our fragile hold on health, well-being and life itself has been forcibly demonstrated and we are weak with grief, dazed with loss, stunned into dumb agony?

Our culture shies away from recognising the incredibly limited control we actually have over our lives, so that it is easy to be lulled into a false sense of security, and any experience of loss becomes un-natural and outrageous.

Dear friend, loss is not only natural but inevitable in our fallen world. The question is not will it come, but rather, how must I prepare myself to respond to it? What does my God require of me, his all-too-frail creature, that I might rightly glorify him and be sustained through this experience. What do I do with my pain?

The topic is far too significant to be addressed in one short conversation, but today I would point you to saints who have shown the way for us, leaving words that we can use, and wisdom that we can learn from. First in this great hymn..

Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to thy bosom fly, while the nearer waters roll, while the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, till the storm of life is past; safe into the haven guide;
Oh, receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none, hangs my helpless soul on thee; Leave, ah! leave me not alone, still support and comfort me.
All my trust on  thee is stayed, all my help from thee I bring; cover my defenceless head with the shadow of thy wing.

Wilt Thou not regard my call? Wilt thou not accept my prayer? Lo! I sink, I faint, I fall—
Lo! on thee I cast my care.
Reach me out  thy gracious hand! While I of thy strength receive, hoping against hope I stand, dying, and behold, I live.

(Charles Wesley: 1707-1788)

Wesley invites us to ditch our pride and all pretence of competence – fling yourself upon the Lord, plead recklessly and constantly for his aid in full confidence that he will supply your need.

Then Elisabeth Elliott – twice widowed and thus purified through extreme suffering – says this: offer up your pain to God, to do with it as he will. Make it your offering to him and then give thanks that he can – and will – work in it for your blessing and his glory. For her, widowhood became ‘ a gift, a call and a vocation, not merely a condition to be endured’. Having received it from the Lord, she then offered it up for his use, and chose acceptance and trust. (Eliott, E. The Path of Loneliness, 1988)

None of this takes away pain; it doesn’t replace what is gone: but it may transform our thinking and attitude to the losses which we will inevitably experience. The missionary Amy Carmichael learnt this lesson over many years of suffering, and pressing hard to bring it to God in the darkness of grief. Her poem ‘Nothing in the house’, is a meditation on knowing God in the midst of it. May it speak comfort and encouragement to you today.

Thy servant Lord, hath nothing in the house, not even one small pot of common oil;
For he who never cometh but to spoil hath raided my poor house again, again,
That ruthless strong man armed, whom men call Pain.

I thought that I had courage in the house, and patience to be quiet and endure,
And sometimes happy songs; now I am sure thy servant truly hath not anything,
And see my song-bird hath a broken wing.

My servant, I have come into the house – I who know Pain’s extremity so well
That there never can be the need to tell His power to make the flesh and spirit quail:
Have I not felt the scourge, the thorn, the nail?

And I, his conqueror, am in the house, Let not your heart be troubled: do not fear:
Why shouldest thou, child of mine, if I am here? My touch will heal thy song-bird’s broken wing, and he shall have a braver song to sing.

(Amy Carmichael : 1867-1951)

Against self-pity

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In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith – of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire – may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honour when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love 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 1.6-9)

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

(Hebrews 12.2)

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

(James 1.2-4)

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ…..I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings…

(Philippians 3.7&10)

I am often guilty of wishful thinking; of comparing my situation to that of other people and wondering why I should have to bear my particular burdens. I know this is foolish – who knows what hidden struggles and trials plague the lives of others? I know it is sinful, and yet I find myself longing, wondering, scheming to find a way out of my own personal darkness.

I resent my sufferings; I don’t want anyone else to have to bear them, but I don’t want them either! And then I read these words from Paul…and Peter…and James, and am rebuked and see clearly what my attitude is saying.

I am accusing God of dealing unfairly with me; of giving me a burden which is too great for me to carry; of asking too much; I am refusing to trust that this God – who has so devastatingly shown his love for me on the cross – has my best interests at heart. I consider Jesus, my saviour, and also my example of obedient, holy living, and am ashamed of my disobedient, grumbling attitude.

We are taught that our sufferings have a purpose – the maturing of our faith, until it becomes like pure gold in which the maker can see his own likeness clearly reflected – but that can produce a stoic, teeth-gritting determination rather than a humble, thankful acceptance. I believe that there is another element to the process, which can transform our attitude. Have you ever considered that once we are in glory with Christ, we will never again have the privilege of suffering anything at all in his name and for his sake? There will be nothing to endure, only to enjoy!

Our trials in this world are our opportunity to prove God faithful in his promises to strengthen, comfort and keep us.  When, in the mystery of his will, we are permitted to experience trials and troubles of every kind, then I believe that he is inviting our partnership in the process of creating Christ-likeness in us. The late Helen Roseveare, missionary doctor and one who suffered much at the hands of the Congolese rebels in 1964, wrote of how God spoke to her in the midst of great suffering:

“Was He saying to me,’Yes, I could have kept you out of this situation: I could have rescued you….but I thought I could trust you to go through this with me, as I have a plan and purpose for the future..Can you thank me for trusting you with this experience even if I never tell you why?” (Count it All Joy; Helen Roseveare 2017)

If, when faced with our own particular trials, we take refuge in self-pity, in blaming God, and devote all our energies to getting out of the situation by our own efforts, then I believe we are neglecting an opportunity – to grow in faith; to let God shape us through this particular experience of leaning and depending on him; to witness to his power at work in our situation and above all to glorify Jesus by our desire to offer our suffering up in worship. In my own experience, it is in the darkest nights that the tenderness of my Lord’s love is most dear, most present – shall I refuse to meet him there again?

I, the least of the Lord’s servants, am being counted worthy of suffering in his name – and I have his example to inspire me – scorning the shame, and for the joy that is to come, I can receive my trials as a means of blessing. The missionary and author Elisabeth Elliott – who like Dr Roseveare proved God faithful through many trials – puts it perfectly:

“Refuse self-pity. Refuse it absolutely. It is a deadly thing with power to destroy you. Turn your thoughts to Christ who has already carried our griefs and sorrows.”

Oh Loving God, Heavenly Father, grant me wisdom, faith and courage, to trust you and embrace all that you choose to permit in my life, for your glory and the blessing of others.

Finishing the race…..

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O Lord, by all thy dealings with us, whether of joy or pain, of light or darkness, let us be brought to Thee. Let us value no treatment of thy grace simply because it makes us happy or because it makes us sad, because it gives us or denies us what we want;

But may all that thou sendest us bring us to thee, that,

knowing thy perfection, we may be sure in every disappointment that thou art still loving us, and in every darkness that thou art still enlightening us, and in every enforced idleness that thou art still using us;

yeah, in every death that thou art still giving us life, as in his death thou didst give life to thy Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ, Amen

(Phillips Brooks, 1835-1893)

I was introduced to this prayer by the writing of a woman called Elisabeth Elliott, a woman whose words have shaped my faith and thinking about faith since I discovered her as a teenager. She is known primarily for her many books, exploring in ruthlessly practical ways, the business of working out what it looks like to be a follower of Jesus – as a man, a woman, a parent. She wrote with a lyrical power, without frills, taking the reader straight to the heart of the matter, and always challenging – because every page is saturated with the truth of God.

Her words are strong meat for the soul, leaving the reader with no excuses for not understanding and acting on what God has said. But she is also very comforting to read, because her life experience has included being widowed twice – the first time after only 2 years of marriage, by the martyrdom of her husband at the hands of the Auca Indians in South America. This woman can write about trusting God in the dark times and be taken seriously, because if anyone has proved God’s promises, she has. I wholeheartedly commend her books to anyone who wants to take the business of living a faithful christian life seriously.

The prayer which I quoted above sums up her own faith and overwhelming desire to trust in God, seeking him alone, and not only his gifts. This rings all through her writings, and I believe that is because it is central to faith for us all. If we ever find ourselves desiring anything above God himself, then we are setting up an idol, and heading for trouble. Our desire for God may be weak and fitful, but we long to see it grow, and to become the ruling passion of our lives. Elisabeth Elliott could testify to the struggle which is involved in trusting, at many different stages of her life and through many trials. Her ability to articulate that struggle, and her honesty in identifying the weakness which drags us down, the doubts which undermine us, make her writings enormously helpful to others. Here we find someone who has travelled the road ahead and can prepare us for what we might meet, encourage us to persevere, and provide strong scripture staffs on which we can lean. This quotation from her book ‘The Path of Loneliness’ (1988, Thos Nelson Publishers), demonstrates all these qualities:-

“Accept your share of the hardship that faithfulness to the gospel entails in the strength that God gives you. For he has saved us from all this evil and called us to a life of holiness – not because of any of our achievements but for his own purpose. Before time began he planned to give us in Christ Jesus the grace to achieve this purpose” (2 Tim 1.8-10; JBPhillips.)

That is a wonderfully comforting word to me. God had included the hardships of my life in His original plan. Nothing takes Him by surprise. But nothing is for nothing either. His plan is to make me holy, and hardship is indispensable for that as long as we live in this hard old world. All I have to do is accept it….a distilled act of faith, a laying one’s will alongside God’s, a putting of oneself at one with His Kingdom and His will.

Elisabeth Elliott died on 15 June 2015, after living for several years from dementia. She was  ready to finish the race, to enter into the rest of her Lord, and I rejoice to think that now all her suffering and waiting is over. Surely for her, the voice has rung out, “Well done, good and faithful servant!”

But for myself, I am rebuked by the way in which my life continues to fall short of the faith and trust she so humbly demonstrated. May God give me grace to learn afresh how to receive all that he sends with joyful acceptance, offering it up in responsive praise to him again.

All my hope on God is founded, he doth still my trust renew;

me through change and chance he guideth, only good and only true!

(Joachim Neander 1650-1680, translated, Robert Bridges 1844-1930)