Sovereignty | All is Well

The Rough Road

September 10, 2018 By Shelly Durkee

“My path has been rough, but I have not had one trial which my Heavenly Father could, in faithfulness, have spared me. I have not a doubt now, I shall see hereafter, that all His dealings with me have been for my good.” Susan Huntington, 1791-1823)

“In faithfulness.”

That’s the phrase that caught my soul, when I came across this quote from Susan Huntington while reading through a radio transcript featuring Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth, at the Revive Our Hearts website.

Susan Huntington was a pastor’s wife in New England in the early 1800s. According to the online sketches and biographies I’ve found about Susan, she was well-read in both scripture and theological commentaries. She was devoted to doing scripture study in order to fuel her own faith, and she shared what she learned with other women in her community, as well as her children.

She also was no stranger to hard, earth-shattering days:

She lost both of her parents in her mid-20’s
When she was 8 months pregnant, her husband died
Within 3 years of the loss of her husband, two of her children died
At age 33, Susan died after a long, painful illness

Her road was rough.

There are some who are reading this who may be experiencing suffering of this magnitude, but truly the mass majority of us have not experienced such tragic heartache, in such a small breath of time.

But, whether we have – or we haven’t – we have all known and walked the rough road, at one time or another.

And, there are some of us who have felt our souls utter, along with Job, the words “Though He slay me…..”, all the while struggling with willing our hearts and minds to cling to the second part of the phrase in Job 13:15: “…yet I will hope in Him.”

There are times that our roads do not only seem rough – they seem impassable.

That brings me back to Susan Huntington’s words, quoted above – “My path has been rough, but I have not had one trial which my Heavenly Father could, in faithfulness, have spared me.”

It’s the phrase “in faithfulness” that drives me to write tonight.

This would be a much different sentence, if the words “in faithfulness” had been omitted.

I often find hope in God’s sovereignty. While I struggled with the truth of His sovereignty for many years, I have come to a place where…most days…I realize that my hope is most assured, in the truth that He is sovereign. That He is ruler and orchestrates all that passes through my life – He knows the measure of my days, and while I do not understand, it is enough that He does. It is enough, that He goes before and behind me, as the quote by John Greenleaf Whittier describes, featured at the top of my website: “Before me, even as behind, God is – and all is well.”

Amen.

But there is something about the words from Susan Huntington, in her own attempt to describe the role of God’s sovereignty in the hard things of her life, that gives me pause: “in faithfulness”.

I think that it may be this:

It’s not just that God allows things to happen in our lives – hard things, shattering things, heart-stopping things….

an illness, loss of a loved one, financial hardship, abandonment – the list is long, and personal for each one of us….

but the beauty of His sovereignty is that, if He spares of us some of these hard things that make our road rough, He would not be faithful.

And, He is, oh, so very faithful.

It is one of His attributes. One of His characteristics.

We see it throughout scripture:

2 Timothy 2:13: “…if we are faithless, he remains faithful—for he cannot deny himself.”

2 Thessalonians 3:3: “But the Lord is faithful. He will establish you and guard you against the evil one.”

1 Corinthians 1:9: “God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.”

But I think it is the often quoted Jeremiah 29:11-13, that Susan Huntington’s use of the phrase “in faithfulness” has helped me to grasp at a different level tonight:

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.”

My road has been rough.

Despair. Doubt. Fear. Abandonment. Hopelessness.

These have often been my companions.

But.

God – in his faithfulness, allowed me to walk this road. He ordered this road for me, much like the words of the hymn “Be Still My Soul”:

Be still, my soul, The Lord is on thy side
Bear patiently, the cross of grief or pain
Leave to thy God, to order and provide
In every change, He faithful will remain.

Author: Kathrina von Schlegel

He has ordered the road I have walked – and, He has provided what I have needed, along the path.

And He has never changed. He has been faithful. And, precisely because He is faithful, He could not have spared me any of the rough road.

He has known and does know His plans for me – and for you, dear reader – and the rough road is at times, the road of hope – even if that hope is not fully known until we reach our eternal home, where our hope will be manifested in ways beyond our earthly comprehension can fathom.

Therefore, friends, take comfort in Susan Huntington’s words – this young mother who walked the rough road and died at age 33. If she could speak to us today, I am certain that she would tell us that yes – His dealings with her had been for her good.

And, His dealings with us – in joy and sorrow – are also for our very good.

Be still, my soul, thy best thy heavenly friend
Through thorny ways, leads to a joyful end.

Closer to the Ground

May 5, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

“The closer to His sovereignty that you step, the closer to the ground your face will be in worship, gratitude and humility. Faith to be immovable and unconquerable will find its place in the sovereign will of our God.” –Jeff Beard

I’ve been mulling this quote over, in my mind and soul, since I heard it Sunday in a sermon.

I couldn’t even tell you what the sermon was about, really. I was fidgety that morning. Antsy. Distracted by many things.

So I wasn’t paying close attention. But, as always, when the word “sovereignty” came up, the cacophony in my brain quieted down for a bit, and I laser-focused in on what was being said.

I don’t know anything about Mr. Beard, other than he was a mentor to the pastor of my church, and he wrote this quote on the inside of a book (by R.C. Sproul) that he gave to my pastor several years ago.

Whoever he is–his words have occupied a lot of my brain this week.

I find the sovereignty of God to be a tough thing to grasp. And, sometimes, a tough thing to accept.

Sovereignty of God is the biblical teaching that all things are under God’s rule and control, and that nothing happens without His direction or permission. Nothing takes God by surprise. He is sovereign in both principle (de jure) and practice. (de facto).

All things. The joyful things; yes, absolutely.

But also the hard things.

We learn from stories like Abraham and Sarah, Ruth, and Job–and even Jesus’ experience in the garden where he prayed right before his crucifixion–that God is sovereign. What He wills, happens.

And, what He permits happens, too.

Oh, my soul: sometimes knowing that the hard stuff has been allowed, or permitted, by God is so hard to bear. Especially when in the throes of the hard things of this life.

However, when we–or, I–step back and really think about it; when I really delve into the truth of what this means, I realize that it is exactly His sovereignty that provides hope. Because, were He not sovereign over all things, then I fear that the senselessness of evil would threaten to drown out the grace and mercy of who He is.

And His grace and mercy far outshine the deepest choking darkness.

This I know is truth, because I’ve lived it.

But–here is where Mr. Beard’s quote got me: “The closer to His sovereignty that you step……”

That’s hard stuff.

It’s hard, because I find myself–and maybe you do, as well–not wanting to step closer to His sovereignty, but rather distance myself from it. Or, maybe a better phrase is this: I try to fly under His radar. I don’t want to get too near. I don’t want to look into His eyes; I don’t want Him to look into mine. Cynicism, stoicism, and hard-heartedness is easier, then either the enfolding joys or the damning griefs.

Don’t love too much. Don’t draw God’s attention to your soul.

I pride myself on being immovable. Unconquerable.

Sinfully pride, that is.

But that’s where I found Mr. Beard’s words to be the most interesting. He asserts, essentially, that the only way to truly be immovable and unconquerable, is to be nestled within God’s sovereign will.

To step closer to His sovereignty, not to run from it. Or hide from it.

In faith, no less–that very odd, at times elusive concept, or act, of trust. Complete trust.

Trust in the sovereign God, who directs and permits. All things.

And when we step closer to God, the result is worship, gratitude and humility–the exact antithesis of the sinful pride of cynicism and heart-heartedness and stoicism–the three default modes I quickly run to for safety….

….when it is my sovereign God who is the safest place of all, and who will truly cause me to be immovable and unconquerable….

…when I step close to Him and fall on my face and worship.

Our God is in the heavens; he does all that he pleases.

Psalm 115:3

‘Tis So Sweet….

February 23, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

‘Tis So Sweet, to Trust in Jesus,

Just to Take Him At His Word….

These are words that I heard this morning, early, as I made the drive from the airport in Atlanta, 90 miles down the road to Warner Robins, for a series of work meetings.

It was pouring rain, with lightning strikes and thunder and water on the roadway. But the weather wasn’t what was creating uneasiness in my mind and soul, as I traveled. In fact, the ride itself was smooth–I had scored a free upgrade to a Jeep Renegrade SUV; I was quite safe as I navigated the traffic and the weather.

But my soul and heart were, and are, maybe still, a bit….uneasy.

I love my job; very much so. And, I don’t really mind the occasional travel that it requires. I enjoy meeting up with my team members in different cities, to do excellent work. They are among some of the finest people, in the industry. Plus, they are just fun to be around.

But the timing of this trip, for my crew, is not good. Some challenging situations that have cropped up in the past 8-10 days, made leaving them so much harder this time.

So when I turned on Pandora, and this old hymn that expresses these sentiments so surely and confidently came on, I found myself thinking of the words.

How could the author of the words–written in 1882–sing this with such unwavering steadfastness? How could she–her name was Louisa M. Stead–how could Mrs. Stead say that trusting Jesus is..sweet? As opposed to using words such as “hard”? And, “unnerving”? And, even, a bit frightening?

I think it is easy to say or sing the words–they are beautiful, indeed. And scriptural. In fact, we often turn to such words, in scripture, when we are in turmoil:

Psalm 28:7:

The Lord is my strength and my shield;
in him my heart trusts, and I am helped;
my heart exults,
and with my song I give thanks to him.

How often have I–and you–and we turned there, for comfort and assurance? And these words, too, found also in the book of Psalms:

Psalm 112:7

He is not afraid of bad news;
his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.

Saying them, when we are not in the midst of hard things, or even saying them when we are, and are looking for comfort and assurance, is one thing.

But doing them–applying them as verbs to our souls and minds, is quite another. When the “bad news” comes, what does it mean to “Take Him at His Word?” How do we rest upon His promise? Upon the sovereignty that rings through the phrase “Thus Sayeth the Lord?” How do we cease both sinfulness and self-centeredness? How do we sing to God—and mean it–“Just to know that thou art with me”?

And, how do we know that He will be, to the end? And, beyond the end, into eternity?

It’s hard to live the verbs of these phrases, when the bad news comes. It’s hard to do the active clinging to the promises in scripture, as parents, when we see our children hurting, and making wrong choices. It’s hard to–can I say, obey?–the call to trust God, when the diagnosis comes, and our world is spinning.

I don’t know about you, dear reader and friend, but I find the words of this beautiful hymn to be challenging.

The author of the lyrics of this song, knew those tough times. One sunny afternoon, she, her husband, and their 4-year-old daughter decided to picnic off of Long Island Sound. At some point during their time together that day, they heard a boy calling for help, from the water. Mr. Stead entered the water in an attempt to rescue the boy, but they both drowned.

And Louisa Stead found herself alone–a young widow, with a young child to raise.

And it is from that flash-point need to decide where she would turn to, in the frightening days that lay before her, that these words were born out of her soul.

Later in life, Louisa and her daughter would travel to South Africa as missionaries. And, according to Kenneth W. Osbeck, author of 101 More Hymn Stories, Part 2, this is the message she sent back to the United States, upon arriving in what was then known as Rhodesia, but today is known as Zimbabwe:

“In connection with the whole mission there are glorious possibilities, but one cannot, in the face of the peculiar difficulties, help but say, ‘Who is sufficient for these things?’ But with simple confidence and trust we may and do say, ‘Our sufficiency is of God.’”

Simple confidence and trust. Our sufficiency is of God.

But where lies the ability to connect these words with the action of trusting God?

Looking over the hymn tonight, and over scripture, I wonder if it might not lie, in the living of these words:

“How I’ve proved Him, o’er and o’er…”

Has He not been faithful? Has He not been steadfast? Has He not seen? And known? And acted?

Is His love not evident, in the very Gospel itself–that He came to earth to be among us–God in flesh–and then became the sacrifice for our salvation–not because of anything we have done to earn that kind of love, but simply because He loves us.

Has He not been our Lord and Savior, our Father, our shepherd, the holy and righteous one who is sovereign in all things?

He has. He is. Oh, how I have proved Him, o’er and o’er, my friends. So many times. With so many to go, I am certain.

But here is where you–and I–must live our lives, every day–it is where we must return to consistently and continually and always–in the joyful times and in the dark times–we must recognize our need for the last line of the chorus of this beautiful hymn:

O, for grace…to trust Him more!

And, in those moments when we are in need of that grace to not just say that we trust Him, but truly to trust–in those heart-stopping, mind-numbing moments, or those weary-long-day moments, we must turn to Him for that grace, because truly it only comes from Him.

²⁰And they brought the boy to him. And when the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. ²¹And Jesus asked his father, “How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood. ²²And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” ²³And Jesus said to him, “‘If you can’! All things are possible for one who believes.”

²⁴Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, “I believe; help my unbelief!”

(Mark 9)

O, for grace, to trust Him more.

The Heavy and Good Sovereignty of God

January 8, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

Sometimes, there are chapters in scripture that–well–are autobiographical.

Maybe not literally–we have to use much caution in reading scripture, to not “read into” scripture what is not there. And we have to be very careful in studying scripture, to not bend it like hot metal, to make it “fit” what we seek to explain out of our own minds, or souls, or lives.

And, we have to be so very careful, to let scripture interpret scripture, and to keep things in context. We must pay attention to the intended audience, the historical and cultural surroundings, the author’s purposes.

That said, there are times that we read scripture, and it is like reading our life.

And–as long as we keep the above things in mind, I think that is how we are intended to read scripture. It is history, yes. It is literature, absolutely. It is poetry and laws and prophecies and stories and parables and biographies and so many other literary genres.

But—it is also so personal.

Sometimes….sometimes it seems to be too personal. Too close to home. Too accurate.

But, if it were not that way, then really would we experience fully the truly personal nature of our relationship with God….our Father? With Jesus….our Savior? With the Holy Spirit….our comfortor?

Lamentations 3 is one of those chapters–at least, I’ve found that is the case, for me.

When I come upon Lamentations 3 in both my paper version of the Bible, and in my Bible study software, it is marked up. Lined. Noted. Stuff written in the margins. Notes linked to the verses. Sermons linked to the verses. It is smudged. The page is even torn, in my paper Bible. I’ve been on that page, a lot.

So many things, in these 66 verses, shout loudly in my mind and soul.

The book of Lamentations–as a whole–is devastating. The ESV Study Bible describes it as a “formal expression of grief in a high literary style.” It is not an “emotional outburst”. There is a preciseness to it; a methodical-ness to it, a rhythm to it. It is raw and honest, but not uncontrolled without reasoning and thorough thinking.

I can appreciate that. I can relate to that.

Here’s the interesting thing, though, about chapter 3—

The subject of the book, overall, is Jerusalem. God’s punishment on Jerusalem, to be precise. The grief of Jerusalem, to press in a bit deeper.

But Lamentations 3 comes at these things from a different bent. Lamentations 3 presents a sudden “narrowing” of focus. From the wide view of the grief of Jerusalem, down to the narrow and very personal grief of the author.

It is, undoubtedly, intense.

Not out-of-control, lack-of-reasoning, wildly abandoned grief. No, rather a laying bare of the griefs this man has seen and known and experienced and is experiencing and is knowing and is seeing.

Because life can be intense.

I won’t write tonight about what I see in here, that is so close-cutting. I can’t bear too; nor is it necessary. Those are the things that are poured out before my seeing and knowing God.

I know these words, intensely. On many levels.

And you do, too.

God’s sovereignty, at times, can feel so very heavy.

But here’s the key, in the midst of this very autobiographical lament, that we all can relate to–His sovereignty which extends over the wide focus of the world, and in this passage, over Jerusalem, and in this third chapter, over the personal experience of the author–and the experiences of us and the experiences of me–is the very same sovereignty that gives hope.

The sovereignty that causes grief, also has compassion, and provides mercies new every morning:

Verse 31: For the Lord will not cast off forever, 32 but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love…

and this:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; 23 they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 24 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”

Life is hard. This I know, to be truth.

God is good. This truth I know, to be my saving grace.