A Severe Mercy...

After the pain comes the learning. At sixty one is not used to having their entire life called into question by those that don't really know you. Such, I suppose, is the world in which we live. We judge with the shred of evidence and think we are doing God's work.

But God is still in His heaven, even when I am too angry to even pray more than a sentence at a time. God is still there. More that simply being, He understands and He is already starting the process of turning pain into empathy and compassion for others. Our Lord is always merciful, even to His wayward pouting children, but sometimes His is a severe mercy.

His greatest lessons often emerge from the fiery furnace and not the pasture of plenty. I could not really reach out to the grieving, hold the hand of one dying, until I had felt my soul rent asunder by the death of my parents. Now I am learning that following Him requires a total abandonment to His will. But oh the price with which this lesson is being bought! It hurts like the fires of hell themselves. The pain, the indecision, the conflicting demands of honor and humility, the giving up of self feels like having the heart ripped out on an Aztec altar. The master said it himself, to whom much is given, much will be demanded. I have become rich in the spirit, and perhaps a bit complacent by His generosity. Thinking after thirty five years in the ministry I was past the pain, past the point at which all falls down. Perhaps I had begun to trust in my own strength to carry me into His presence and so it was...stepping into the furnace door without even noticing it was there until the fire fanned about me.

There is an end, I know that. There will be a time when the hours of prayer feel natural and right again, I am going to say Vespers as soon as I finish here. But my future is unclear, my wife cries sometimes in her sleep, and His mercy is severe. Will I come to the point when I can thank Him for the fire? When I can walk about unscathed in the furnace? Perhaps, my sin may be what causes me to feel the flame now. Perhaps like dross, the fire is to burn it away. Perhaps...