Fanning the flame

Why is it so easy to lose the warmth of our desire for God? Life's anxieties, problems, worries, and activities seem to be constantly warring against a burning passion for God. Often it becomes a case of what concerns me rather than what contributes to my relationship with God. The truth is we allow our busy western lives to crowd out the time needed to develop the true intimacy with God that keeps the flame of love for God alive. How do we fan the flame?

Seraphim of Sarov put it this way: "God is a fire that warms and kindles the heart and inward parts. And so, if we feel in our hearts coldness, which is from the devil--for the devil is cold--then let us call upon the Lord, and he will come and warm our hearts with perfect love not only for him, but for our neighbor as well. And from the presence of the warmth, the coldness of the hater of good will be driven away."

We start by asking God in his grace to stir our hearts with a new burning desire for him. Sometimes the best prayer we can offer is simply, "God, help me to want to know you." As we start with this simple request, God responds in his love and grace, and we then begin to make the willful decision to cooperate with him as he stirs that love in our hearts. He does his part, and we do ours.

The English 14th century monk, Richard Rolle, called one of his books, The Fire of Love. For Rolle, every part of his devotion to God was to burn as a consuming flame that would rid him of all that stood in the way of his love for God and the divine relationship that Christ came to make a reality.

May we strive for this kind of love, setting aside all that would hinder or make our hearts go cold, until we burst into flame renewed with a passionate burning of love for God.

A life of total devotion from Teresa of Avila

I recently found this rather rare poem from Teresa of Avila. It reflects a life wholly devoted to God--a high and lofty goal.

I am Thine, and born for Thee:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

Sov'reign Lord upon Thy throne,
Endless Wisdom, One and Whole,
Goodness that does feed my soul,
Good and great, One God alone:
Vile Thou seest me, yet Thine own,
As I sing my love for Thee.
What wilt Thou have done with me?

Thine I am, for Thou didst make me;
Thine, for Thou alone didst save me;
Thine--Thou couldst endure to have me;
For Thine own didst deign to take me.
Never once didst Thou forsake me.
Ruined were I but for Thee:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

What, O good and loving Lord,
Wilt Thou have this creature do?
This Thy slave, a sinner too,
Waiting till she hears Thy word?
With Thy will in close accord,
Sweetest Love, I come to Thee:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

Take, O Lord, my loving heart:
See, I yield it to Thee whole,
With my body, life and soul
And my nature's every part.
Sweetest Spouse, my Life Thou art;
I have given myself to Thee:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

Let me live, or let me die;
Give me sickness, give me health;
Give me poverty or wealth;
Let me strive or peaceful lie.
Weakness give or strength supply--
I accept it all of Thee:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

Fame or shame I may be given;
Chasten me or make me glad;
Comfort me or make me sad;
Send me hell or grant me Heaven.
Sun, with veil forever riven,
I have yielded all to Thee:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

Teach me, if Thou wilt, to pray;
If Thou wilt not, make me dry.
Give me love abundantly
Or unfruitful let me stay.
Sov'reign Master, I obey.
Peace I find not save with Thee:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

Give, I pray Thee, wisdom true,
Or remove it all from me;
Plenteous years I fain would see;
Years of drought and leanness too.
Days of light and darkness through,
Send me where Thou'd'st have me be:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

If in ease Thou'lt have me lie,
I accept it for Thy love;
If my constancy Thou'lt prove,
May I suffer till I die.
Tell me, sweetest Love, I cry,
How and when to die for Thee:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

Waste or fruitful land be mine,
Tabor's joy or Calvary's Cross.
Job be I, with pain and loss,
John, and on Thy breast recline.
Sterile stock or fruitful vine,
As Thou will'st it, may I be:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

Joseph, captive once in chains,
Rule in Egypt over all.
David, held in cruel thrall,
Soon a crown and kingdom gains.
Jonah suffers direst pains;
Then is cast up from the sea:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

Let me speak or hold my peace,
Rich or barren as Thou wilt;
Let the Law proclaim my guilt
Or the Gospel give release.
Let me joys or pains increase.
All my life I live in Thee:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

I am Thine, and born for Thee:
What wilt Thou have done with me?

Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)

Major transition

My family and I have just completed a major move across the pond from England back to the USA. After over 21 years in England, we felt that it was time to return to the USA. We will continue to do the work that we do with Searchlight Ministries (www.searchlight-missions.org); in fact, we hope to increase our efforts in producing helpful resources for Christians around the world. Hopefully this blog will soon return to a normal routine of new material. I just wanted to state the reason for the long silence.

Bruce

What's your story?

I am a great lover of biographies. I try to read the lives of the good and the great in a number of fields and walks of life. I'm currently reading the life of Winston Churchill and the incredible role that he played in the monumental conflicts of World War II. A few days ago, I was reading a short biography of the former UN Secretary General, Dag Hammerskjold. As I reflected on some of the quotations from his own diaries, Markings, I thought how easy it is for me, or for anyone, to hide behind the stories of other people. Because I can easily recount the heroic moral and spiritual exploits of others, I somehow justify the fact that much of the time the story of my own life may not be very heroic or spiritually inspiring.

Perhaps that's why our society is so consumed with "celebrity" or hero worship in its various forms. Maybe this is why the phenomenon of "reality TV" has reached such unimaginable heights (or perhaps "depths" would be more accurate). People tend to live their lives through others. They watch movies, reality shows, celebrity lives, and they don't have to face the fact that the story of their own lives isn't really saying much. Unfortunately this can be true for Christians as much as it can be for others. We have to admit that the cult of celebrity has infiltrated Christianity as much as it has other areas of society.

As I sat thinking about Dag Hammerskjold and the impact that one life story can have on those around it, I felt convicted that I have often avoided the story that God wants to write with my own life. Maybe the story was going to involve risks, or sacrifice, or steps into the unknown, and I simply wasn't ready... or willing. Maybe you can say the same about your own story.

The truth is we're all called to allow God to write a story with our lives. It may not necessarily be on the level of a Winston Churchill or David Livingstone or Dag Hammerskjold, but God wants to write a story that, when read, will bring glory to him. The story we allow him to write will be seen primarily through the relationships we develop and the people that we allow to impact our personal world.

The apostle Paul could say to the Corinthian Christians, "You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts" (2 Corinthians 3:2-3). What a challenging comment!

The world around us is looking for good news. Christians carry within them the Spirit of the living God who is constantly writing his glorious eternal story of life and hope. What story are you allowing him to write with your life?

John Chrysostom on Mercy

I was all set to post something else today, but this morning I read the Introductory Discourse to Chrysostom's Homilies on Philippians. I thought this was a challenging excerpt on Mercy.

"Let us put on this ornament. Let us make a golden chain for our soul, of mercy I mean, while we are here. For if this age pass, we can use it no longer. And why? THERE there are no poor, THERE there are no riches, no more want THERE. While we are children, let us not rob ourselves of this ornament. For as with children, if they become men, these are taken away, and they are advanced to other adornment; so too is it with us. There will be no more alms by money, but other and far nobler. Let us not then deprive ourselves of this! Let us make our soul appear beautiful! Great is alms, beautiful, and honorable, great is that gift, but greater is goodness.

"If we learn to despise riches, we shall learn other things besides. For behold how many good things spring from hence! He that gives alms, as he ought to give, learns to despise wealth. He that has learned to despise wealth has cut up the root of evils. So that he does not do a greater good than he receives, not merely in that there is a due recompense and a requital for alms, but also in that his soul becomes philosophic, and elevated, and rich. He that gives alms is instructed not to admire riches or gold. And this lesson once fixed in his mind, he has gotten a great step toward mounting to Heaven, and has cut away ten thousand occasions of strife, and contention, and envy, and dejection. For you know, you too know, that all things are done for riches, and unnumbered wars are made for riches. But he that has learned to despise them, has placed himself in a quiet harbor, he no longer fears damage.

"For this has alms taught him. He no longer desires what is his neighbor's; for how should he, that parts with his own, and gives? He no longer envies the rich man; for how should he, that is willing to become poor? He clears the eye of his soul.

"And these are but here. But hereafter it is not to be told what blessings he shall win. He shall not abide without with the foolish virgins, but shall enter in with those that were wise, together with the Bridegroom, having his lamps bright. And though they have endured hardship in virginity, he that has not so much as tasted these hardships shall be better than they. Such is the power of Mercy. She brings in her nurslings with much boldness. For she is known to the porters in Heaven, that keep the gates of the Bride-Chamber, and not known only, but reverenced; and those whom she knows to have honored her, she will bring in with much boldness, and none will gainsay, but all make room.

"For if she brought God down to earth, and persuaded him to become man, much more shall she be able to raise a man to Heaven; for great is her might. If then from mercy and lovingkindness God became man, and He persuaded himself to become a servant, much rather will He bring his servants into his own house.

"Her [mercy] let us love, on her let us set our affection, not one day, nor two, but all our life long, that she may acknowledge us. If she acknowledge us, the Lord will acknowledge us too. If she disown us, the Lord too will disown us, and will say, 'I do not know you.' But may it not be ours to hear this voice, but that happy one instead, 'Come, you who are blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world' (Matthew 25:34). Which may we all obtain, by his grace and lovingkindness, in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father and the Holy Ghost, be glory, strength, honor, now and for ever, and world without end. Amen."

John Chrysostom (c. 400)

It's not all about us

One of my goals for this year is to read through Butler's Lives of the Saints. Every day there is a brief, or not so brief, biography of some spiritual male or female forerunner from the past centuries. More often than not I am left challenged by the character, spirituality, and devotion that is seen in the lives of the saints.

A couple of days ago I was reading about a man named Peter Nolasco. He lived in Spain in the 13th century at a time when the Moors possessed a considerable part of Spain. Consequently, numerous Christians were suffering under the tyranny of slavery both in Spain and in Africa. Peter Nolasco was moved to compassion by the thought of all these believers being under the yoke of slavery, so he started an order whose specific objective was to free as many of these slaves as he possibly could. He and his order worked tirelessly to redeem captives from many locations and situations. His life was literally spent for others. Butler sums up Peter Nolasco's life with the following comments:

"Charity towards all mankind was a distinguishing feature in the character of the saints. This benevolent virtue so entirely possessed their hearts that they were constantly disposed to sacrifice even their lives to the relief and assistance of others. Zealously employed in removing their temporal necessities, they laboured with redoubled vigour to succour their spiritual wants, by rooting out from their souls the dominion of sin, and substituting in its room the kingdom of God's grace. This conduct of the saints, extraordinary as it is, ceases to appear surprising when we recollect the powerful arguments our Blessed Saviour makes use of to excite us to the love of our neighbour. But how shall we justify our unfeeling hard-heartedness, that seeks every trifling pretence to exempt us from the duty of succouring the unfortunate? Have we forgot that Jesus Christ, our Redeemer, who alone has bestowed on us whatever we possess, has made charity towards our fellow-creature, but especially towards the needy, an indispensable precept? Do we not know that he bids us consider the suffering poor as members of the same head, heirs of the same promises, as our brothers and his children who represent him on earth?"

It's easy to forget, but the simple truth is that following Christ is so much more than getting our spiritual blessings and fulfilling our life goals. It's about living for Christ and for others. And one thing is certain: It's not all about us.