It was not in noise that He came. No procession announced Him, nor did a crown of laurels adorn His brow. He walked among men as a servant, and yet no king could be more worthy. He spoke with a gentle voice, and yet His gaze pierced through the centuries. He did not seek applause, but found the afflicted; He did not impose Himself, but healed with a touch.
This kind of love - it has always moved me. The one who sees the broken heart, and even without being called, draws near.
The one who waited for me, even when my faith was shy and my voice silent. He did not resent my silence.
He did not charge me for giving up too soon, nor rushed me to understand.
He loved - with constancy.
He endured rejection without returning offense.
He forgave even before He was understood.
I know this kind of love. Or at least, I long for it.
Because in the end, it is not the glitter of the world that sustains a soul,
but the quiet faithfulness of a Savior who never turned away.
1 John 5:10-21"he who believes in the Son of God has the testimony in himself" a call there to integrity, not just of belief, but of conduct. i thought: what are the holy and the profane if not two fields in which our affections can grow?
If someone wants to guide me beyond these first emotions - with patience, not haste - then let them teach me what constant love is. Perhaps a teacher. But a teacher whose own life is his lesson.
I've learned that there is a grace - silent, firm - that sustains us, like a lot of grass, growing constantly; it doesn't demand attention, but acts profoundly. .L It is this grace that God makes abound, not in luxury, but in sufficiency. And in sufficiency, there is peace.
I thought of the final verse - "Little children, keep yourselves from idols" - and found it most striking in its simplicity.
When John concludes with "Little children, keep yourselves from idols", I no longer think of distant statues or alien religions. I think of the idols that I have sometimes created in silence: a memory, a vanity, a sadness so cherished that it almost seemed like virtue. And I ask myself: how many times have I loved the idea of a happy ending more than the God who sustains the soul even when everything falls apart? God has given us understanding - and even if we each arrive on different paths, we are in the One who is true. We said little more after that. I believe each of us carried the weight of the words in her own way.
This kind of love - it has always moved me. The one who sees the broken heart, and even without being called, draws near.
The one who waited for me, even when my faith was shy and my voice silent. He did not resent my silence.
He did not charge me for giving up too soon, nor rushed me to understand.
He loved - with constancy.
He endured rejection without returning offense.
He forgave even before He was understood.
I know this kind of love. Or at least, I long for it.
Because in the end, it is not the glitter of the world that sustains a soul,
but the quiet faithfulness of a Savior who never turned away.
Who, with grace, persuaded me to believe again.
"And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work:"
Blessings
1 John 5:10-21"he who believes in the Son of God has the testimony in himself" a call there to integrity, not just of belief, but of conduct. i thought: what are the holy and the profane if not two fields in which our affections can grow?
If someone wants to guide me beyond these first emotions - with patience, not haste - then let them teach me what constant love is. Perhaps a teacher. But a teacher whose own life is his lesson.
I've learned that there is a grace - silent, firm - that sustains us, like a lot of grass, growing constantly; it doesn't demand attention, but acts profoundly. .L It is this grace that God makes abound, not in luxury, but in sufficiency. And in sufficiency, there is peace.
I thought of the final verse - "Little children, keep yourselves from idols" - and found it most striking in its simplicity.
When John concludes with "Little children, keep yourselves from idols", I no longer think of distant statues or alien religions. I think of the idols that I have sometimes created in silence: a memory, a vanity, a sadness so cherished that it almost seemed like virtue. And I ask myself: how many times have I loved the idea of a happy ending more than the God who sustains the soul even when everything falls apart? God has given us understanding - and even if we each arrive on different paths, we are in the One who is true. We said little more after that. I believe each of us carried the weight of the words in her own way.
God bless you!!!
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