Till We Have Faces

Of holy fear, homesickness, and revolution.

I've contemplated long and hard on the title for this account - a summary of the lessons, trials, and triumphs of my late life. It speaks of a holy fear of God. It speaks of revolution. It speaks of my case before a holy God. It is the account of my joys and of my sorrows, my hopes and my doubts, my graces and my thorns. I don't know whom it may interest - I only know it must be written.

The hardest part is knowing where to begin.

The following is part of a series of thoughts under the grand title "Till We Have Faces". Although it is similar to the thoughts of others I have lately read, I believe I should like to share a few more words with you.

A deep breath before the plunge... and the journey begins.

Part I: Looking for Overland

'Men swear by something greater than themselves, and the oath confirms what is said and puts an end to all argument. Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled totake hold of the hope offered to us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf.

Hebrews 6:16-19a

There is a chest in the middle of my room, worn and well-used - and, from the looks of it - well-loved in its time. It sits right up next to my dresser and mirror, the place of much daily traffic and bustle and preparation. Though the place may somehow sound prominent, it's really not - half-hidden it lies behind my bedpost, submerged in half-light and a bit of mystery. Looking at its dented cover and rusted gold locks, the more alert imagination would conjure up in its past a good deal of mystery and a few well-kept secrets. I guess we'll never really know.

The chest inherited a few secrets of my own a week or so ago, when Tia lovingly carried it out from among her late findings and into my room, remembering the faint sparkle in my eye when first I saw it. After its unexpected arrival into my bedroom, I threw my arms around Tia's neck in a wondrous fury of excitement, spoke a few words of profuse thanks, and, gently closing the door behind me, I began to slowly pace the room, trying to choose wisely its new contents, and where it would be placed. Then, as suddenly, I pulled aside the closet curtain and (on my very tip-toes, for lack of height) I reached up for an old paper shoe box gathering dust on its top shelf.

As I removed the lid and began to peruse the contents of that one small box, memories flooded the forefront of my mind as each small artifact recalled someone dear; a moment I had loved. It's funny how striking and memorable an old school eraser can be. An old letter from my brother; an old picture from the summer camp that I dressed like Princess Leia. Old quotes from my wall, my "encouragement page" from the very first Caborca trip; pictures of old friends and new. An old ring from Preston; a bracelet from Stephanie. My old sixties shades; a page from one of my first "romance novels" - hand-written and yellowed with age. Deep in its depths lie a few more recent letters and notes; pictures of my "sisters" - a few poems and words of encouragement that - to this day - are emblazoned on my memory. Some of them are painful; some of them joyful - but all are tokens of grace.

Slowly I laid the box aside and let my mind fill with moments and stories, loves and losses of days bygone. As I reflect on the valleys and the heights that the Lord has led my family through, I cannot help but realize what an incredible life I have lived. Even as a young child, unaware of the blessings of faith and salvation - in my darkest hours of fear and of pain - I was always struck by the seemingly "coincidental" good luck my family has always had. We were always getting ourselves into scrapes; taking "adventures" and gallivanting off to new and exotic lands before I could offer up an "if-you-please" or some other common-sensical complaint. The amount of change we had subjected ourselves to couldn't have been quite safe. But, in the midst of it all, we never wanted for food and shelter; we never went without any good or necessary thing. Perhaps I didn't have all the grand playthings that my wealthy, stationary counterparts could boast - but my books and my imagination, my adventures and family were more than enough for me. Time and again, we left everything and started all over again, convinced of a call to missions and to the Lord. And somehow, every new home contained some new blessing. Somehow we were always taken care of; somehow - even in the strangest, most unbelievable circumstances. Call it luck; call it karma. I know it now as divine providence. I know it now as faithfulness.

In the years that have followed circumstances have changed, and I've grown accustomed to one home; one life; a stable sort of living. Change, after all, was never a neutral thing in my life; I was always fighting it - always feigning a battle that didn't need to be fought. The memories have not left me, though - I don't believe they ever will. Slowly I have become to realize that although it may be difficult - although everything within me battle to the contrary - perhaps living radically is the way we all should be. A friend of mine once said that all the trials and pain and change come to guard our souls from apathy. I believe him now as I never have before. And if this one humble life is the only chance I get, I believe I'd like to spend it searching for Overland. *

There are three reasons that this must be written; three reasons for you to keep reading; three points that I hope to make in the end. I want you to realize the need to live radically; the need to live heavenly-minded; and to daily remind ourselves of our Savior's great faithfulness.

*see Chronicles of Narnia: the Silver Chair

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Heavenly-Minded

In Chapter 5: Flag of the World in his Orthodoxy, G.K. Chesterton remarks on the oddities and the inconsistencies of those two peculiar gentlemen known as the optimist and the pessimist. Both of them (if their logic is examined carefully) believe in two entirely ridiculous things: either the world is as good as it could possibly be (other than the nasty pessimist who taints its surface), or, from the pessimist's point of view, the world is all bad (excepting, of course, himself). The optimist, according to his logic, paints all the world through the curious view of rose-colored spectacles, and is therefore a blatant liar. He will not wash the world clean of impurities, but will rather seek to whitewash it. The pessimist paints the world in black gloom and is a liar, too. It is only the man who loves the world without worldly reason that will be of any real use to it. The man who will improve the place is neither optimist nor pessimist; he follows after His Savior and loves, because He did first.

In his search for reason and truth, Chesterton began to realize that the Christian was, indeed, this man. Its martyrs talked of death with glee; they died that something else might live. Christ himself was their example. He had loved the world not because it was lovable, or even particularly comfortable; in fact, quite the contrary. But He took on our form and flesh and revolutionized the world with the simple weapon of love in action. We are unnatural here; but that is our glory.

But the important matter was this - that it entirely reversed the reason for optimism. And the instant the reversal was made it felt like the abrupt ease when a bone is put back into the socket. I had often called myself an optimist, to avoid the too evident blasphemy of pessimism. But all the optimism of the age had been false and disheartening for this reason - that it had always been trying to prove that we fit into the world. ... The modern philosopher had told me again and gain that I was in the right place, and I had felt depressed even in acquiescence. But I had heard that I was in the wrong place, and my soul sang for joy, like a bird in spring.

I knew now why grass had always seemed to me as queer as the green beard of a giant, and why I could feel homesick at home.

I've always been afraid of the unknown, above anything. Courage to move forward, to persevere even when I have no idea what the road ahead of me looks like - this is unnatural, unworldly courage. But I have found that courage is not an "inner strength", the conjuring of a healthy mind, or the blind faith of a foundering heart. Courage is merely a deepening and heightening of a founded faith in the God who is there; in the God who sees, supports, upholds, withstands, divines, understands, and knows. Think of Moses' deep trembling at the Lord's calling. Think of Jeremiah's cry - "I do not know how to speak; I am only a child." (Jeremiah 1:6) But these were only the beginnings of stories much beyond two simple men and their fear of the unknown. God used one simple man and his staff to free a nation from slavery and brought them through a very ocean. The fire and passion that so burned in Jeremiah was one unequalled by worldly ambition, lust, or desire. Our Lord cried - "Not my will, but Thine be done!" and now He stands in glory.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

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The Beauty of Grace and Faithfulness... and Our Lives in Light of That

Some trust in chariots, we trust in the name of the Lord our God

I have often wondered what faith really means. Far too often I feel like a foolish child venturing forth on a vicious sea armed with little more than an able imagination and the naive conjurings of a childish heart. And though I know He walks with me - everything within me will sometimes chant a different tune. I long - with every fibre of my being - to help others, to be one who lends aid in times of bitter need - but I cannot carry the weight of their needs and their burdens alone. And daily I take the weight of the world onto my own shoulders - a burden I should not carry, and do not have to. I continually - even subconsciously - add to my faith in Christ. No wonder I feel so alone! I must trust myself to all-sufficient grace.

His words echo across the millennia - "And surely I am with you always, even to the very end of the age..."

I have learned now that faith is only as good - only as strong - as the object on which it rests. And so often - even without noticing it (oh, the vileness of my own soul!) - I add to Christ. My faith is in the Lord... and in my own strength. My faith is in the Lord... and in my friends. In the Lord and in my own current happy circumstances. It is, then, no wonder that my heart falters! It is no wonder that I stumble and fall. Defeat is inevitable when Christ is not first. No - I shall venture more. When Christ is not all. When He is not everything.

After years of switching and changing and instability in my discipleship group, have finally settled down with my own small group of girls, and tonight we began our first real Bible study. IN fact, it's the first discipleship Bible study I've had since eighth grade junior high! How I have longed for it - and today it finally began. Colossians 1:1-8 was our starting point - verses that I had only just finished memorizing a month or so before. Time and again I had read these eight verses - even as I read them our corny-but-catchy little tunes that we set to help us remember them figure prominently in my memory. But the words have sudden new meaning, and as my mind struggles to understand them, I realize how similar was the plight of the Colossians to ours today. Once a strong church, they had become surrounded by both legalists and hedonists; false teachers adding to Christ. And although at first glance it may seem no more than a lengthy introduction, Paul seeks in these first verses to remind them where they've come from. He urges them to remember the all-sufficiency of the "word of truth"; to remember that theirs is a simple faith in an all-encompassing Savior... and that they should live accordingly.

We always thank God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all the saints - the faith and love that spring from the hope that is stored up for you in heaven and that you have already heard about in the word of truth, the gospel that has come to you.
Colossians 1:3-6a

When this faith is lived out, it should look different. We should not be as we were before. There should be a marked change in us. As 1 John so wisely states - Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue, but with action and in truth. With action! To keep this incredible salvation and faith that brings lasting peace amongst ourselves would be a vital mistake. Let us love our world with the love that Christ gives; let us keep our faith in Him; and let us live radically because of the radical change in our hearts.

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To Conclude

Jill Carratini, in a recent "Slice of Infinity" says this ...

In a world where faith is defined as foolish and irrelevant, the definition of faith in Scripture stands by the better country - even if it at times eludes us. Like Abraham who looked for the city of foundations... we are strangers on earth, setting out to spend our lives looking for a country of our own. It is by this depth of certainty that Abraham lived and died, knowing that the small family he could gather together in his final days would yet one day outshine the starry sky. The one who promised is faithful, and He is the builder of the city we seek. Let us therefore hold onto the hope we profess, looking for Overland, for the city with foundations, the city of the living God. It is his story of starry skies and Promised Lands and unseen things above; and it is a story we love to tell.

As Paul describes the heroes of our faith in Hebrews 11, he says this -

All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things snow that they are lookng for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country - a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

Now there's Bible authority for you.

Oh, that these verses might describe my life! I have often wondered what might be said about me when my days on this earth are complete and I reach my new, my better home. I can only hope that it might be said that I was longing for a better country - a heavenly one.

To this end I hope and towards it I run, looking for Overland.

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So that night, not very long ago, I took a moment to thank the Lord for His faithfulness in the past; to put my future into His hands and trust Him with it. I quietly closed the box that night and laid it in the chest where it now sits until necessary for me to remember again. As I closed the chest and turned out the light, I was filled with a sense of regained purpose. I am not worthless. So often when life does not go as I had planned - when my efforts, my endeavours, show no fruit and I feel so useless - I have only to remember that Christ, my Savior sees; that I do not belong here. My love for this world and for its people is from the outside looking in - here, on the other side of something - beyond the realm of death and despair. It is a letdown of sorts - everything here now seems somehow trivial. And yet the hope that awaits beyond the borders of this dark country and the twilight zone of the mortal's grave surpasses all letdown and earthly sorrow. Therefore let us look for Overland together - so heavenly minded that we might be of radical earthly good - and let us never forget: we are not home yet.



The journey continues; the battle rages; onwards we march towards revolution.