Tag: hope

The Place is a Person

Published on by Abigail Rehmert2 Comments

We call it Jump Creek — a thread of water nestling along rocky brush to a pebble-lined pool. At the end of the hike beside the creek, you’ll duck under a boulder and see the source. Stony walls guard a delicate waterfall from all sides. Last autumn, the shielded cove held a hush, a beauty in its hidenness. If you gazed at the unbroken foothilled horizon from afar, you’d never imagine the desert’s secret, cut into the canyon.

Perhaps Jump Creek once shielded someone running from danger. The clear water and rock-chilled shade maybe offered a respite for a moment.

Unlike King David, I’ve never needed to hide in a cave in serious fear for my life. There is a different hiding place I’ve craved. One that would cover what you could not see — my soul.

The immaterial in us doesn’t require something tangible like a waterfall’s chamber. Instead, our secret place is a Person. Simply abiding in His presence archives perfect escape. You remember the discomfort of crouching in a hide-and-seek spot, while your heart beat faster and you breathed louder, as the pursuer counted to ten and drew near? It’s not like being an anxious lump in the curtains as you listen to warnings and the discovering of other kids one by one.

Instead, while hiding here in Christ, you will hear sounds of deliverance. A song with a melody of triumph and a harmony of hope. You could search the earth over and never find the stillness and quietness that fills your soul in the presence of the One who can do all things well.

“You are my hiding place;
    you will protect me from trouble
    and surround me with songs of deliverance.

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
    I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.”

Psalm 32:7-8

There is no need to strain for footsteps approaching in pitch darkness. No need to fret over the woes of the wicked and the sounds of deceptive threats from the Accuser. Tucked into this hiding place, you will hear sweet instruction. Direction, counsel, and love.

Trouble and bad news can plague our weary bones. But in the midst of evil, injustice, loss, persecution, temptation — our soul waits and rests in love and feasts on promises.

“The sorrows of the wicked are many,
But the one who trusts in the Lord, goodness will surround him.
Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, you righteous ones;
And shout for joy, all you who are upright in heart.”

Psalm 32:10-11

Yes, our flesh experiences the corruption of this world acutely. But our soul can never suffocate in prison. We will sing and worship in a hiding place. The soul can’t be destroyed by principalities and powers. “For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” (Col. 3:3)

The Psalmist in chapter 11 stated the LORD was his refuge. But others advised, “Flee! Flee like a bird to your mountain.” They seemed to think a location change would be the key to avoid the arrows of the darkness.

Often we wanted to flee the physical pain, and escape our obstacles by spending time, money, and every human effort to cope. We indulge in the flesh to feel something physical, but this isn’t true secret refuge.

The refuge is the Lord. Not the absence or altering of a circumstance. Will we not flee to this permanent safety and forever joy?

“One who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
Will lodge in the shadow of the Almighty.”

Psalm 91:1

When danger threatens, when heartache throbs, see how the shadow of the Almighty brings shade from the heat. How His shelter brings a bedrock dwelling of security and nourishment. When everything in you says FLEE, God says, “Rest here. Know my protection. My loving eye is on you. Hear my instruction and counsel.”

Therein lies the hope.

“You are my hiding place and my shield;
I wait for Your word.”

Psalm 119:114

Will He not always shield us from all sides with His goodness? Hope waits for you to open God’s Word.

There is a place that is a Person — who serves as our covering, our shelter, our secrecy and protection. God’s enemies will not know how we are sustained by songs of deliverance. They can not understand how His words of instruction prompt deep, otherworldly hope. Many are the sorrows of the wicked, but those who are sheltering in the Most High will rejoice. He is the one fighting for us!

Life after Tomb

Published on by Abigail Rehmert1 Comment

“Even the icebent daffodils and crushed violets, the trampled crocuses and the battered hyacinths glittered like jewels in the muddy farmyards. Thomas caught his breath. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He passed the cemetery. The gravestones, too, twinkled in their shining gowns of ice. And the church bell began to ring.”

Lori Walburg

This paragraph from The Legend of the Easter Egg, shows a glimpse of Thomas, a boy who spends the week before Resurrection Sunday at a friend’s home because his sister is very sick. While there, he grasps the beauty of new life — eternal life. He learns death is no final separator for those who belong to Christ.

Our little church in Kansas overlooked the town’s cemetery. I would play with the other children outside after Sunday and Wednesday services, the charming trees towering over the tombstones a familiar sight. I saw the flowers come and go, the beaming American flags posted on Memorial Day, and a list of fallen veterans etched in a memorial stone.

We weren’t allowed to play in the cemetery, but we still knew the shapes and some of the stories of the ornate graves, and could sense the history. It stood a constant reminder of the realness and certainty of death. There were names from the 1800s, little graves for babies, and even fresh graves of a few from our own congregation.

It didn’t really bring fear, just an impression. A respect that it was appointed for man once to die.

Once I asked my dad where he’d like to be buried one day. I personally thought under the shade of a sturdy tree would be nice. He said, “Doesn’t matter where they’ll bury me. I’ll be gone.”

I pondered this, and I agreed. I, too, would be gone, in a place better than anything conjured up on earth.

“It is better to go to a house of mourning 

Than to go to a house of feasting,

Because that is the end of every man,

And the living takes it to heart.”

Ecclesiastes 7:2

It is important to remember death, because in its bitter sting, we know what it is to truly live a born-again life. We know the opposite of death. We taste victory, because we were buried with Him and raised to walk in newness of life.

Over and over Scripture declares to know Him equals life, in the fullest, sweetest, deepest way.

This weekend I’m looking forward to the choir declaring life, my husband’s sermon, my new dress, cinnamon rolls, and hearing the bells ringing, “Hallelujah.” Like little Thomas in the story, I still have questions, but they are resting in the hands of a Risen Savior.

Death is a reality and certainty, but it is no master of the saints. It is the wages of sin for sinners, but it is no victor over God’s people.

He conquered death, and He defined eternal life right in John 17:3.

“This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.”

The next time you see a cemetery, be it shining in gowns of ice, stones faded from all the sun, under trees or a forest of flagpoles, remember to acknowledge death in the light of Christ’s own death, burial, resurrection.

Enjoy this poem my friend Madelyn shared with me–

“Gain after loss,
Strength after weakness,
Crown after cross;
Sweet after bitter,
Hope after fears,
Home after wandering,
Praise after tears.

Sheaves after sowing,
Sun after rain,
Sight after mystery,
Peace after pain;
Joy after sorrow,
Calm after blast,
Rest after weariness,
Sweet at last.

Near after distant,
Gleam after gloom,
Love after loneliness,
Life after tomb;
After long agony,
Rapture of bliss—
Right was the pathway leading to this.”

-Frances Havergal

Illustrations by James Bernardin, The Legend of the Easter Egg

Obedient Next

Published on by Abigail Rehmert6 Comments

Elisabeth Elliot’s famous encouragement, “Pick up the broom, and do the next thing” graced my growing-up years. Mom shared this motto with me first, and often it literally involved grasping the broom and sweeping the floor. As time passes, this phrase becomes more and more inspiring and brings hope to more than just my chores.

Lately all the extra time at home has given me an excuse to procrastinate on the little things and to be nervous about the big things. Little things like pantry organization and big things like a loved one’s lost job.

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