Receive the Cup of Sorrow

Receive the Cup of Sorrow

"Shall I refuse to drink the cup of sorrow which the Father has given me to drink?" (John 18:11, Weymouth).

God takes a thousand times more pains with us than the artist with his picture, by many touches of sorrow, and by many colors of circumstance, to bring us into the form which is the highest and noblest in His sight, if only we receive His gifts of myrrh in the right spirit.

But when the cup is put away, and these feelings are stifled or unheeded, a greater injury is done to the soul that can ever be amended. For no heart can conceive in what surpassing love God giveth us this myrrh; yet this which we ought to receive to our souls' good we suffer to pass by us in our sleepy indifference, and nothing comes of it.

Then we come and complain: "Alas, Lord! I am so dry, and it is so dark within me!" I tell thee, dear child, open thy heart to the pain, and it will do thee more good than if thou wert full of feeling and devoutness.  --Tauler

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I can surely relate with the those who have experienced the darkness of sorrows and griefs. There seems to be nothing pleasant amidst the pain. A superficial evaluation of the struggle and difficulties reveals no intrinsic value. However, when you understand that the struggle has come to build, not tear down. When you understand that the heartache has come to strengthen not destroy; you will get a glimpse into the power of pain.

Dr. Rick Wallace

The pain is from the hand of God sculpting the masterpiece that you will become. The heartache is the result of God pruning away all that is not beneficial or conducive to the final product. There is a natural proclivity to attempt  to circumvent life's struggles in search of a life of comfort, but there is no reward in sidestepping suffering, because it is in the flames of testing that we are purified and proven. It is during the long winds of suffering that the intricate details of the masterpiece that is us is hewed out.

I know that the pain can, at times, be excruciating. The loneliness can be stifling. Understand this, God is in the midst of the mayhem working miracles. You will look back one day and realize that the heartache took you to new heights. You will realize that the darkness increase your light. You will find that the struggles expedited your elevation. It is okay to drink from the cup of sorrow for it produces greatness. ~ Dr. Rick Wallace

He Has Overcome the World

"None of these things move me" (Acts 20:24).

We read in the book of Samuel that the moment that David was crowned at Hebron, "All the Philistines came up to seek David." And the moment we get anything from the Lord worth contending for, then the devil comes to seek us.

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When the enemy meets us at the threshold of any great work for God, let us accept it as "a token of salvation," and claim double blessing, victory, and power. Power is developed by resistance. The cannon carries twice as far because the exploding power has to find its way through resistance. The way electricity is produced in the powerhouse yonder is by the sharp friction of the revolving wheels. And so we shall find some day that even Satan has been one of God's agencies of blessing.  --Days of Heaven upon Earth

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A hero is not fed on sweets,

Daily his own heart he eats;

Chambers of the great are jails,

And head winds right for royal sails.

--Emerson

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Tribulation is the way to triumph. The valley-way opens into the highway. Tribulation's imprint is on all great things. Crowns are cast in crucibles. Chains of character that wind about the feet of God are forged in earthly flames. No man is greatest victor till he has trodden the winepress of woe. With seams of anguish deep in His brow, the "Man of Sorrows" said, "In the world ye shall have tribulation"--but after this sob comes the psalm of promise, "Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world." The footprints are traceable everywhere. Bloodmarks stain the steps that lead to thrones. Sears are the price of scepters. Our crowns will be wrested from the giants we conquer. Grief has always been the lot of greatness. It is an open secret.

"The mark of rank in nature.

Is capacity for pain;

And the anguish of the singer

Makes the sweetest of the strain."

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Tribulation has always marked the trail of the true reformer. It is the story of Paul, Luther, Savonarola, Knox, Wesley, and all the rest of the mighty army. They came through great tribulation to their place of power.

Every great book has been written with the author's blood. "These are they that have come out of great tribulation." Who was the peerless poet of the Greeks? Homer. But that illustrious singer was blind. Who wrote the fadeless dream of "Pilgrim's Progress"? A prince in royal purple upon a couch of ease? Nay! The trailing splendor of that vision gilded the dingy walls of old Bedford jail while John Bunyan, a princely prisoner, a glorious genius, made a faithful transcript of the scene.

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Great is the facile conqueror;

Yet haply, he, who, wounded sore,

Breathless, all covered o'er with blood and sweat,

Sinks fainting, but fighting evermore

Is greater yet.

--Selected

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Christ did not promise that there would be no trails; in fact, he said, "In this world you will have tribulation..." Contrary to popular belief, this ethereal journey of Christianity is not one of ease, but one of challenge and difficulty. Fortunately, Christ did not end with His proclamation of tribulation. He finished by saying, "...but be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world." No, the life of a believer is not one of ease, but it is one of reward. 

I have often said that there can be no attainment of the promise without there first being an endurance of the process. The human body grows stronger and larger in correspondence to the resistance it meets. The human soul and spirit is no different. As the vicissitudes of life pour into your existence, as the enemy attacks from every side, as the waves of discomfort and disquietude smash against the walls of your sanity, know that God is using your pain to develop you. He is the potter and you are the clay. Though painful, your trials are working for you a far more exceeding weight in glory (2 Cor. 4:17). ~ Dr. Rick Wallace 

Flowers in the Canyon

"For our profit" (Heb. 12:10).

In one of Ralph Connor's books he tells a story of Gwen. Gwen was a wild, wilful lassie and one who had always been accustomed to having her own way. Then one day she met with a terrible accident which crippled her for life. She became very rebellious and in the murmuring state she was visited by the Sky Pilot, as the missionary among the mountaineers was termed.

He told her the parable of the canyon. "At first there were no canyons, but only the broad, open prairie. One day the Master of the Prairie, walking over his great lawns, where were only grasses, asked the Prairie, 'Where are your flowers?' and the Prairie said, 'Master I have no seeds.'

"Then he spoke to the birds, and they carried seeds of every kind of flower and strewed them far and wide, and soon the prairie bloomed with crocuses and roses and buffalo beans and the yellow crowfoot and the wild sunflowers and the red lilies all summer long. Then the Master came and was well pleased; but he missed the flowers he loved best of all, and he said to the Prairie: 'Where are the clematis and the columbine, the sweet violets and wind-flowers, and all the ferns and flowering shrubs?'

 

"And again he spoke to the birds, and again they carried all the seeds and scattered them far and wide. But, again, when the Master came he could not find the flowers he loved best of all, and he said:

"'Where are those my sweetest flowers?' and the Prairie cried sorrowfully:

"'Oh, Master, I cannot keep the flowers, for the winds sweep fiercely, and the sun beats upon my breast, and they wither up and fly away.'

"Then the Master spoke to the Lightning, and with one swift blow the Lightning cleft the Prairie to the heart. And the Prairie rocked and groaned in agony, and for many a day moaned bitterly over the black, jagged, gaping wound.

"But the river poured its waters through the cleft, and carried down deep black mould, and once more the birds carried seeds and strewed them in the canyon. And after a long time the rough rocks were decked out with soft mosses and trailing vines, and all the nooks were hung with clematis and columbine, and great elms lifted their huge tops high up into the sunlight, and down about their feet clustered the low cedars and balsams, and everywhere the violets and wind-flower and maiden-hair grew and bloomed, till the canyon became the Master's favorite place for rest and peace and joy."

Then the Sky Pilot read to her: "The fruit--I'll read 'flowers'--of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness--and some of these grow only in the canyon."

"Which are the canyon flowers?" asked Gwen softly, and the Pilot answered: "Gentleness, meekness, longsuffering; but though the others, love, joy, peace, bloom in the open, yet never with so rich a bloom and so sweet a perfume as in the canyon."

 

For a long time Gwen lay quite still, and then said wistfully, while her lips trembled: "There are no flowers in my canyon, but only ragged rocks."

"Some day they will bloom, Gwen dear; the Master will find them, and we, too, shall see them."

Beloved, when you come to your canyon, remember! ~ Streams in the Desert