I read this in one of my devotional books a couple of weeks ago, and it's been with me ever since.
"But is it our business to pry into what may happen tomorrow? It is a difficult and painful exercise which saps the strength and uses up the time given us today. Once we give ourselves up to God, shall we attempt to get hold of what can never belong to us- tomorrow? Our lives are His, our times in His hand, He is Lord over what will happen, never mind what may happen. When we prayed, 'Thy will be done,' did we suppose He did not hear us? He had indeed, and daily makes our business His and partakes of our lives. If my life is once surrendered, all is well. Let me not grab it back, as though it were in peril in His hand but would be safer in mine!" ~ Elisabeth Elliot, "Keep a Quiet Heart" (Book given to me by my friend Ruth.)
I can always count on Elisabeth Elliot to put things into the right perspective. Oh, how wonderfully true these words are! Lately, I have found myself worried about various things in my life, all of which I cannot control and cause me grief in one form or another. When I read these words, it was like seeing my reflection in a mirror. Did I walk away immediately transformed? I wish! No, it is a daily surrender.
I remember reading Elisabeth Elliot's "Through Gates of Splendor". In that book, she writes of the journey that resulted in the death of her husband and four other missionary men in Ecuador. When the men were on what would be their final mission, "Operation Auca", they had planned to contact their wives by radio at a designated time to let them know of their progress. At the appointed time, the radio was silent. The women knew something was wrong, but they didn't give in to despair or grief. Elisabeth, in fact, went on to teach one of her classes even as the fate of her husband was still uncertain. She didn't do what I would have done, which would have consisted of canceling everything so I could sit and fret until I heard word.
When the ladies did finally learn the truth, no one lost control or threw themselves on the floor in a fit of tears. No one cursed God and pounded the floor with their fists, nor did they start saying, "Why me?" They understood that His plans are infinitely bigger than ours. Though they did grieve the loss of their husbands and the fathers to their children, they did so with dignity, all the while trusting in their Savior.
What a lesson for us all! How I wish my faith were as strong, and I pray that God is not done with me yet, but that as He keeps dipping me back into the furnace, I will eventually, even faintly, resemble something of His image.
