God Will Shew His Paths: Illustrated Quote

Who God is in the Book of Isaiah

(I found this in my drafts and remembered that I had never taken the time to arrange this properly and post it! This is speaking of 2014.)

I have started on a quest this year to highlight what God says specifically about himself, some of his names, and his character. Rather a daunting mission, once one begins to read Isaiah! I list here merely what is found in Isaiah alone. I have cut out of this list all references God makes of himself in relation to “Israel”, “Jacob”, “David”, etc. There still remain around 60 separate names, statements or characters. And that is in Isaiah alone. Try searching the entire Bible; then further consider that John stated that if all the works of Jesus had been recorded the world itself could not contain the books written; perhaps then we may begin getting a picture of the greatness of God.

  He that blotteth out thy transgression: Is. 43:25;
  He that will not remember thy sins: Is. 43:25;
  He that redeemed thee: Is. 44:22
  He that formed thee: Is. 44:24
  He that comforteth you: Is. 51:12;
  The Lord that is faithful: Is. 49:7;
  The Lord that hath mercy on thee: Is. 54:10;
  The Lord that created thee: Is. 43:1;
  The Lord that made thee: Is. 44:2
  The Lord that created the heavens: Is. 45:18;
  The Lord that maketh all things: Is. 44:24;
  Is. 33:22 “Our” o judge, o lawgiver, o king
  Counselor: Is. 9:6
  Holy: Is. 57:15 (whose name is);
  Holy, holy, holy: Is. 6:3
  Wonderful: Is. 9:6;
  The mighty God: Is. 9:6; Is. 10:21;
  Thy God: Is. 41:10
  The Living God: Is. 37:4, 17;
  Everlasting God: Is. 40:28;
  Everlasting Father: Is. 9:6
  Our father: Is. 63:16;
  God of truth: Is. 65:16 (twice)
  The God of the whole earth: Is. 54:5;
  God himself that formed the earth: Is. 45:18;
  God the Lord: Is. 41:5
  The Lord: [too numerous] Is. 41:8 “I am the Lord, that is my name.”
  The glorious Lord; Is. 33:21
  The Lord God: Is. 30:15; Is. 40:10; Is. 50:4, 5, 7; Is. 56:8;
  The Lord thy God: Is. 37:4 (twice); Is. 40:13; Is. 43:3; Is. 51:15; Is. 55:5;
  Jehovah: Is. 26:7
  The Lord Jehovah: Is. 12:2;

Have you forgotten?

Why Are You Following Jesus?

            “And a great multitude followed him, because they saw his miracles which he did on them that were diseased.” (Jn. 6:2)

Why do you follow Christ? In the beginning of chapter 6, we see these followed him because of the miracles of healing he had done. Just a bit further on in the chapter, we find those who followed him because of the miracle of the loaves and fishes which fed the hungry. Does the reason one follows Christ matter, as long as one IS following him? What does it really matter? Read on in chapter 6; we see in verse 26-27 that Jesus rebuked them for their motive for following him. So it must matter. But why? Continue reading John’s account: as Jesus spoke, those who followed for the afore mentioned motives “went back, and walked no more with him.” Apparently, those motives were not strong enough to carry one through in following the Lord.

But, beginning in verse 67, when Christ asks his disciples if they would “go away also”, we see a proper motive for following Christ. Peter’s reply shows a different motive, a different focus in his following: “To whom would we go?” Art not thou the all in all? Is there any beside thee? “Thou hast the words of eternal life” and naught else can satisfy our hearts created for eternity. “We believe and art sure that thou art that Christ, the Son of the living God”, the Lamb of God that cleanseth away our sins and maketh our sick souls well.

Christ himself is the only sure motive for following Christ; a knowledge that he is all in all, a longing for his words of eternal life, a belief in him as the Son of God. The motive must be hunger after himself alone, not merely a desire for what he can do for you.

So, why do you follow Christ?

The Lord's In His Heaven; Illustrated Quote

Restlessness: Illustrated J. R. Miller Quote

The Way to Save Man: A Modern Parable

by Leah S. Carpenter

There once was a man who felt called to be a sort of savior for man and he set about his task with hearty good will, despite disparaging words and looks from all living that saw him.

His work was in the cemeteries among the dead. As he proceeded with his work, his reputation was sullied, to say the least; he was considered a lunatic by the kindest. It was difficult work, resulting in bleeding and blistered hands, a weary back and aching arms, but he bore all cheerfully for the sake of saving some—or even all, for such was his goal. His work was so important, and there was so little time!

He dug up the caskets, lifted them out of the hole or pit they were in, and proceeded to open the casket. He dug quickly, calling any and all to help him if they would; sadly, no one chose to help him.

When he had opened the caskets, he spoke to the dead within, saying, “I have set you free from death; all you have to do is will to live. Do you wish to remain dead, or will you choose life?”

There was no answer: silence reigned now as it did before the casket was opened. He proceeded to plead with them.

“I have done all the work necessary to free you from death! Will you make my work void? I have sacrificed my reputation, my comforts, my all, to set you free. I have left the good life I had to work for your salvation. Won’t you please choose life?”

Still silence. He continued to plead for a time, but there were others to be rescued, so he had to move on. Yet the scene was repeated each time, with no variation. And never did any of those whom he sought so diligently, and worked so hard, to rescue ever live again.

Doesn’t it seem strange that with so much of the work already done, the dead did not live? The man grieved so over their hardness of heart. Why would they not choose to live!? The work was already done for them. The gift of life had been given free; all they had to do was choose it. But they wouldn’t; none of them ever willed themselves to receive the gift of life he had given. Finally, he moved to a new field to work.

He decided to work with children and to adopt some children for his own. However, all the children available already had a father, and though the father may not be good, yet they didn’t seem to desire any better. Nevertheless, he sent word around that he wanted some children—mere babies to be born into his family, as it were, or such as would become as little children and be willing to be guided by him in all things, so that the marks of their first family would be erased. He wanted children that he could teach and train so that they would never be any but his children.

Oh, he wasn’t in the least cruel, and he would surely never forbid them to know who their first—that is, natural—father was, but he wanted to raise them so that they would never desire to return to their first father. But he wanted to give them the choice.

He, therefore, also made public a list of ten easy rules which they must all live by, so the children could make intelligent, informed decisions about whether they wanted to live with and for him. The rules were very simple, and only such as would make them into his nature, and add to their truest happiness. Besides that, he also listed what would be their inheritance,—and a goodly one it was—a portion of which they would receive as soon as they became his.

But, alas, he failed here, too, for the children who were old enough to think were content with who they were, and saw no need or reason to change. Besides, the family they were in allowed them to do anything and everything they wanted to do, and life was pleasurable. And what did this new father do but begin by giving a set of rules!?

No, none of them chose him as their father, for they couldn’t see, with their pleasure-blinded eyes, that the life he offered was better than the one they led. Even the inheritance meant nothing to them, for it was so goodly of an inheritance that they didn’t know its worth, nor how to desire it. And the babies were too little to understand and make a choice, so he failed there as well, for he wouldn’t take them against their will.

Some, indeed, he took, but as soon as they were old enough, their other siblings convinced them to join them in a life of pleasure, and they left his roof for their natural father’s house and ways, and so were never truly his at all.

Ah! what grief of heart was his. Was there none who would, under any circumstance, choose him and his life? But he never found any that would. His whole life had been wasted, his plans thwarted by man. He had lived, and sacrificed, in vain, for he would not make the choice for them, and none would choose him of their own will.

Finally, he looked around him to find any children that he would like to have as his own. Having found some, and offering to them anew what he had offered to all before, he found that they still rejected his adoption. By this time, however, he loved them so much that he could not let them go, so he began to work in ways to bring them to himself.

He first made them to see that their family—including themselves—was not only dead but doomed because of their family traits. The only escape was if they received his help and became part of his family. As they came to understand this, they were quickened enough to realize their need and to cry out for help from someone. He then worked by drawing them closer and closer to him so that they received an intense desire to be his, to have his traits and his new life, and they couldn’t help pleading with him to take them into his family.

When they asked, they were taken into his family immediately, given the family clothing and the family spirit, so that all old desires and loves were changed. Their new father ruled in their hearts by the new spirit, molding them into his image as if they were clay and he were the potter.

So they were given a choice, but they were freed from the bondage of their first father by the working of the new father in changing their will. Their hearts were forever humble and filled with love toward him who had rescued them from death, even as they rejected his offer of life.

Ah! here, at last, was the answer to saving man.  

(Special thanks to Sarah Kanz for editing :-))

The Necessity of Daily Prayer from J. R. Miller's "Living Victorious"

"But you, when you pray, go into your room, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in the secret place; and your Father who sees in secret, will reward you openly." Matthew 6:6
     In the Christian's devotional life, prayer has an essential place. The godly men of the Bible were all men of prayer. Jesus, who showed us in Himself the ideal Christian life--had regular habits of prayer. He who would live the Christian life well, must regularly commune with God!
     It is important, however, that we understand clearly what it is to pray. It is not enough that at stated times we go over certain forms of prayer. We only pray, when we speak to God what is in our heart as a desire, a longing, or a burden.
     Jesus teaches that we are to pray to God as our Father. We must come to Him, therefore, as His redeemed children--with the genuineness, the simplicity, the confidence of children. When we stand at God's throne of grace and speak the name "Father" and ask for a child's blessing--we are sure of instant welcome. 
     Many people think of prayer only as coming to God with requests. They only tell Him their needs. They never bow before Him nor speak to Him, unless there is something they wish Him to do for them.
     What would you think of a friend of yours who never came to you nor talked with you, except when he wanted to ask some favor of you? True friendship finds many of its sweetest moments, when there is no help to ask--but when only love's communion fills the happy time. It should be so in our relation with our heavenly Father. If we care to be with Him only when we have a favor to ask of Him--then there is something lacking in our love!
     We are not to suppose that when Jesus spent whole nights in prayer, He was making requests all the time. He went away from the trying, struggling, troublesome life of the busy days among the people--to find shelter, rest, and renewal of strength, in sweet converse with His Father. Just so, most of the time we spend in prayer should be given to communion with God.
    A minister relates that one Saturday morning, when he was in his study preparing his sermon, his little child opened the door and came in, stealing softly to his side. Somewhat impatiently, the father turned to her and asked, "What do you want, my child?"
"Nothing, papa," the child replied. "I only want to be with you."
     This is oft-times the only desire of the true Christian when he comes to pray. He has no requests to make--he just wants to be with his Father!
     The most profitable season of devotion, is that in which there is also meditation upon God's Word. It is related of a godly Christian who was known to spend much time in his prayer-closet, that a friend once secreted himself in his study to learn something of his devotional habit. The godly man was busy all the evening at his work. At eleven o'clock he put away his books and pen and opened his New Testament. For a whole hour he bent over its pages, reading, comparing, pondering the sacred words. Sometimes he would linger long over a sweet verse and his heart would glow with rapture. When the clock struck twelve, he closed the book and sought his bed. He was not once on his knees during all the hour. He offered no petition in words. He had spent the whole time in communing with God in His Word, breathing out his love, his adoration, his longings and desires--and receiving into his heart the assurances, the encouragements, the promises, the joys of the Father's love.
     There could be no better way of devotion than this! Praying alone, without meditation on the Word of God, meets only one phase of our need. We talk to God when we pray. But it is quite as important that God talks to us--and He will only talk with us, when we open the Scriptures and wait reverently to hear what He will say to us.
     What is the HELP that we are to receive from prayer? First of all, prayer holds us close to Christ. We breathe Heaven's air when we commune with Christ. Life in this sinful world is not easy. It has its struggles, its duties, its difficulties, and its sorrows--which exhaust our strength. Hence we need continually to return to Christ to have our grace renewed. We cannot live today, on yesterday's food; every morning we must pray for our daily bread. Nor can we be faithful, strong, happy and helpful Christians today--on yesterday's supply of grace. We need to pray daily. Thus our life is kept from running down, and we are held near our Master all the while.
     The true Christian life also grows--and it can only do so by daily communing with God. Our life should never run two days on just the same level. The days should be ladder rungs lifting our heart ever a little higher, nearer to God, into purer air, into loftier experiences, into holier consecration.
     Prayer brings God down into our life. It was when Jesus was praying, that He was transfigured. True prayer always transfigures! One who lives habitually with Christ, becomes like Christ. Our earthly affairs become means of grace, if Christ is with us. Prayer lifts all the experiences of our life and lays them in the hand of Christ--who makes them all work together for our eternal good!

Shared from Gracegems.org daily devotionals.

Reading "Doctrinal" or "Bible Help" Books

      I have been enjoying some very worthwhile books the last two years, books that have blessed my heart and enriched my life. Books that have caused me to look more at Christ, and that have shown me more of God than I have seen heretofore. In the past, I didn’t like to read “religious” books such as those by Charles Spurgeon, Andrew Murray, A.W. Tozer, etc., because I had the Bible, and shouldn’t be turning to man’s teaching. I had people in my life that nearly scoffed at such books, and certainly didn’t encourage reading them, because one ought to read the Bible! I do not recall what caused me to begin reading “such books”, but I “fell in love”, as the saying goes, with J.R. Miller (You that know me knew that name would come in sooner or later, didn’t you? :-)), and I have expanded my reading from there, especially after reading an A.W. Tozer book recommended to me by our assistant pastor. As my understanding of God and adoration for Christ increased through the readings, my love for, interest in, and understanding of, the Scriptures grew. I still had the slight niggling of worry because, after all, I didn’t need those books: I had the Bible. Let me say here that I never replaced my daily Bible reading with the other authors; I still faithfully read the Holy Scriptures. But I was enjoying these books, and learning from them. Then I began wondering…why was it not just okay but even necessary to hear the preaching of the Word when we could just read it? Why was it fine to listen to teaching on the Word when we ought (?) to “just read it”? Why was it fine to read articles in homeschool magazines and church-based papers, if it wasn’t fine to read books that taught the Word? Furthermore, God’s Word says he gave “some teachers”: so what is so wrong about writing preaching and teaching down, printing it, and passing it on in book form for the coming generations? Aren’t these books merely the preservation of the preached or taught word? Another argument against them was that “They are written by man, so you can’t trust them. Stick to reading the Bible”. True, one must take everything to the Light of Scripture, but we must do that with every sermon we hear. More than that, we must do that with all our own opinions and convictions of the Scriptures themselves. But by all means, be teachable! So now I thoroughly enjoy them, read them without a guilty conscience, and reap the good from them I can. Meanwhile, I’m growing in love for the Lord and his Word.
      Elementary? I know.
      I’m currently reading my first Andrew Murray book, “With Christ in the School of Prayer”, as well as listening to his “Absolute Surrender and Other Addresses”. Since January 2012, I’ve read many J.R. Miller books, “Discover Your Destiny” by Cary Schmidt, “Just Do Something: A Liberating Approach to Finding God’s Will” by Kevin DeYoung (Not recommended without reservation!), “Because He Loves Me” by Elyse Fitzpatrick, “The Pursuit of God” by A.W. Tozer, “Better Not” by John Heyl Vincent, and others, while I’ve also listened to more than those. I also count the many, many, many A.L.O.E. books I’ve read, as they are so rich in lessons in spiritual life. So, what good books have you been reading lately?

Illustrated Quote: World of Chance

The Problem of Faith: Illustrated J. R. Miller quote

Nevertheless Afterward By J. R. Miller

(I read this yesterday and was so blessed that I had to share it! :-) I hope it is a blessing to you as well, even though it may seem a bit long.)

"If we could see beyond to-day

As God can see;

If all the clouds should roll away,

The shadows flee—

O'er present griefs we would not fret,

Each sorrow we would soon forget,

For many joys are waiting yet

For you and me.

"If we could see, if we could know,

We often say,

But God in love a veil doth throw

Across our way;

We cannot see what lies before,

And so we cling to him the more.

He leads us till this life is o'er;

T

Trust and obey."

HINGS are not finished as we see them to-day. Tomorrow they will appear larger, greater. The bud you see one morning in the garden will be a full blown rose in a little while. The brown seed you dropped in your window-box will be a beautiful plant by and by. Wherever there is life there is growth. Every act has its consequences. We cannot foretell what results shall follow from any choice we may make. We must always take account of the afterward, whatever it is we are doing, through whatever experiences we are passing. The writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews has a suggestive passage about chastening. He quotes from the Book of Proverbs: "And ye have forgotten the exhortation which speaketh unto you as unto children, My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him: For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth." People sometimes chafe when they have troubles. They fret and blame God. "What have I done," they ask, " that God is punishing me so? " But God may not be punishing them at all. Chastening is not punishing. "All chastening seemeth for the present to be not joyous but grievous; yet afterward it yieldeth peaceable fruit unto them that have been exercised thereby." The present is hard and painful, but there will be an "afterward." Chastening now; afterward, peaceable fruit.

The figure of pruning is used by our Master. He tells us that every fruitful branch of the vine the wise husbandman prunes—the fruitful, not the unfruitful, branch. It is a wonderful comfort to suffering Christians to know that pruning is therefore really a mark of approval. "Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth." There is a purpose also in the pruning. It is not any reckless trimming— the husbandman knows what he is doing. Pruning seems destructive. Sometimes it appears as if the whole vine is being cut away. But there is an afterward—that it may bear more fruit.

One tells of a visit to a great hot-house, filled with wonderful clusters of luscious grapes. The owner said, "When my new gardener came, he said he would have nothing to do with these vines unless he could cut them clear down to the stock; and he did, and we had no grapes for two years. But this is the result." Stems and branches cut, bleeding, almost destroyed; afterward, a marvellous vine bending under its load of fruit. It is only when we learn the truth about life that we are able to live with faith and courage. Because they have not learned it, many people fall into despair in the midst of present disappointments and sufferings. They see only the hard things

in their circumstances, and pains that make the days almost unbearable, the wrongs and injustices that are crushing them. They stand right in the midst of all the bitter trials and see no light, no hope, no comfort. We need to learn to stand away from the immediate present and get a view of the experience from a remoter distance. We see only part of the experience while we are in its midst. A visitor to Amsterdam had heard about the wonderful chimes of St. Nicholas—so the story runs. He was told that he must hear them, whatever else he might miss in the old Dutch city. The tourist did not know how best to hear the chimes, so he went up into the tower of the church to get as close as he could to the bells. He thought he would thus be best able to get the full benefit of his visit. There he found a man with great wooden gloves, like hammers, pounding on a keyboard. All he could hear was the crash of the keys, the harsh clanging and the deafening noise of the bells above his head. He wondered why his friends had talked so enthusiastically of the chimes of St. Nicholas. To his ears there was no music in them, nothing but terrible clatter and clangor. Yet at that very time there floated over and beyond the city the most entrancing music. Men in the fields a mile or more away paused in their work to listen. People in their homes and travellers on the highways were thrilled by the marvellous notes that fell from the tower. The place to listen to chimes is not close to them, but a distance away, where the clangor has softened into sweet music.

So it is with the experiences of life. When we are in their midst we hear only the jarring notes of pain, the bitter cries of suffering. "All chastening seemeth for the present to be not joyous but grievous." We are too close to it yet. But when we get farther away, when the sharpness of the pain is past, when the hardness is over and forgotten, the music grows sweet. Not until afterward comes with its comfort, its alleviation, its peaceable fruit, its new blessing, do we begin to understand the meaning of the discipline of the experience that was so hard. Afterward it yieldeth peaceable fruit.

It is only afterward that the meaning of many of God's providences can be clearly read. Now we see through a glass darkly; afterward we shall see face to face. Now we know in part; afterward we shall know fully. The things we think destructive and calamitous are blessings yet in their first stage, fruits still green and bitter, not yet ripened and mellowed.

"Then be content, poor heart;

God's plans like lilies pure and white unfold.

We must not tear the close-shut leaves apart,

Time will reveal the calyxes of gold.

And if, through patient toil, we reach the land

Where tired feet, with sandals loosed, may rest,

When we shall clearly see and understand,

I know that we will say,' God knew the best.'"

Life is a school. All its experiences are lessons. God is educating us. School is not easy. All true education looks to the building of the finest, noblest character in the end. It is especially so in God's school, for he is the perfect Teacher. His purpose is not to give us an easy time at present, but to make something of us afterward. Sometimes we chafe and fret, saying that God is harsh and severe, perhaps that he is even unkind. We cannot see that good ever can come out of the painful discipline. But there are lives which only in the school of severity can ever reach their best. There are some plants that would die in the warmth of a conservatory. They must be kept in the cold if they would live and grow. One of the papers not long since told of a strange plant recently discovered in northern Siberia. It shoots up out of the ice and frozen ground. Its leaves grow on the side of the stem toward the north. Each leaf appears to be covered with little crystals of snow. On the third day the extremities of the anthers show minute glistening specks like diamonds. These are the seeds.

Is not this plant an illustration of many Christian lives? God seems to set them in beds of ice and snow, and yet they grow up out of the wintry cold into fair and wondrous beauty. We should say that the loveliest lives of earth would be those that are reared amid the kindliest influences, under summer skies, in the warm atmosphere of ease and comfort. But the truth is that many of the noblest developments of Christian character come from the wintry gardens of hardship, struggle, and sorrow. Trial, therefore, is not something meant to discourage us, to stunt and dwarf our life and mar its beauty. The snow plant would die in a tropical garden. There are lives that never could become Christ like and never could reach heaven without the discipline of hardness. No hardness is too severe which teaches us to live worthily. " To serve God and love him," says some one, " is higher and better than happiness, though it be with wounded feet,

bleeding hands, and heart loaded with sorrow."

"So much we miss

If love is weak; so much we gain

If love is strong. God thinks no pain

Too sharp or lasting to ordain

To teach us this."

We must guard against the dreading of the cost of life's best things. If we cannot pay the price we cannot get the blessings. We must have the sharp, biting winter if we would get, by and by, the genial spring with its bursting blossoms. We must have the ploughshare cutting through the ground if we would have the harvest of golden grain. There is no trial in our lives that does not come to us as the bearer of good. We meet a grievous loss when we are not profited by the hard or painful experience that comes to us. We cannot see this to-day. It seems to us in the keenness of our sorrow that nothing which may come in any afterward will make up for what we are now suffering. But if not in this life, then somewhere in the great eternal afterward we shall be able to say: "Now I understand." "All chastening seemeth for the present grievous; yet afterward it yieldeth peaceable fruit."

Remember Joseph. He was cruelly wronged by his brothers, torn away from his home, sold as a slave, maligned and cast into chains—a dark beginning, surely, for a young man's life. Yet afterward came honor, power, glory. It takes time to work out God's best things. There is a story of a rabbi who met a child carrying a basket closely covered. "Tell me, little maid," said the rabbi, " what you have in that basket." The child answered, " If my mother had wished that any one should know what is in this basket, she would not have covered it up." If God had meant us to know all his plans of love for us, he would not have covered them up under experiences of pain and suffering. We may be sure, however, that for all our times of chastening and trial there is an afterward, full of glorious good, waiting for us. We miss a great deal by living so entirely in the present and not having ourselves to think of the afterward. We are alarmed when we find ourselves in hard conditions and circumstances, forgetting altogether that these are only processes through which we must pass to reach fineness of character, sweetness of spirit, strength, courage, discipline, and all the qualities which go to make up the best life. We are too short-sighted when we are in trouble. We see only the suffering, the loss, the struggle, and think not of the mission of the trouble and what is coming out of it. We should widen our vision so as to take in the afterward as well as the present hour.

Life is all one piece. One experience follows another. God always loves us—loves us just as surely and as tenderly, when all things seem to be against us as he does when all things seem to be favoring us. When trouble comes, no matter what its direct and natural cause, it has a mission—it comes to make us better, to cure us of some fault, to cleanse us of some blot, to make us gentler, to teach us to be trustful and strong, to make us more thoughtful and more helpful. Instead of vexing and fretting ourselves with the question how God can truly love us and yet allow us to suffer, to endure loss, to be treated unjustly and wrongfully, we would better change our attitude altogether toward our trials and ask rather what errand this pain or affliction has for us, what it should teach us, what change it should work in us. There is no trial in our lives

that does not come to us as the bearer of a blessing. We meet a grievous loss when we are not profited by any hard or painful experience that comes to us. The other morning one told of an unhappiness which came from the loss of a friend—not by death, but by the friend's unfaithfulness. Well, it is hard when one has to lose out of one's life such a friend, who for years has seemed to be true and whose friendship has come to mean so much of strength, of companionship, of joy; but there will be an afterward, and we may be sure that when the afterward has opened its treasures into the lonely life, it will be seen that God is good and loving in just what he did. You do not know what poison was hidden in the cup you thought was filled to the brim with happiness. God took it out of your hand to save you from a deeper, bitterer sorrow than that which you are now enduring.

You cannot see this to-day. It seems to you in the keenness of your sorrow that nothing that may come in afterward will make up for what you have lost. But trust God with that. The future is long. It stretches away into the eternal years. If not in this life, then somewhere in the great eternal Afterward you will be able to say: "Now I understand."

"When the last day is ended,

And the nights are through;

When the last sun is buried

In its grave of blue;

"When the stars are snuffed like candles,

And the seas no longer fret,

When the winds unlearn their cunning,

And the storms forget;

"When the last lip is palsied,

And the last prayer said,

Love shall reign immortal

While the worlds lie dead!”

A Truly Seeking Heart: Illustrated Quote

Doing God's Will: Illustrated Quote

Christ Saves Men By Becoming Their Friend: Illustrated J. R. Miller Quote

Some excellent thoughts here!

We Would Wreck Everything

Not only does God love us and desire our good--but His wisdom is infinite. He knows what is best for us, what things will do us the good we need. We ourselves do not know. The things we think would bring us blessing--perhaps would bring us irreparable harm! The things we dread as evil, and shrink from--perhaps are the bearers to us of divinest good! We would make pitiful work of our lives--if we had the ordering of our affairs in our own hands. If for but one day we could take matters into our own hands, out of God's hands--we would wreck everything!
J.R. Miller via gracegems.org

He Can Surely Manage Them

Cheap Entertainment: Illustrated Quote

Whatever the Experiences Be...Illustrated Quote

Rutherford Illustrated Quote