หน้านี้ไม่พร้อมใช้งานใน ภาษาไทย.
Fall 1952
I have been meditating on the exquisite gentleness of Christ. He is so tender and thoughtful in the little tiny ways and details. No wonder His servants are not afraid to step forth into anything with Him. His balm is so soothing even the wound becomes a delight.
Oh, how unfair to Him we are when we major on the difficulties. From His lips drops sweetness. He gives us the finest of wheat, the seamless robe. He never lets us be tried unduly and seeks ever to bring surprises and delights to us.
He is a faithful friend who permits us enough hardship to be able to enter into the riches of His grace and the fellowship of His deepest thoughts, and the secret treasures of dark places. But what place is dark when His hand is there? What pain is too acute while He whispers words of hope? What temptation too keen when He stands with a blessed escape?
Truly He is a refuge for us: "The righteous runneth into it and is safe." How frequently we must go and crouch our heads on His breast; how we wait for the words from His lips spoken personally, specifically and endearingly to us. How often have we run into His fold and whispered our needs in His ear.
God forbid ease that would fail to develop in us faith and utter dependence upon our Lord, or ease that would substitute some other mediator between Him and us.
Oh, what goodness He has laid up for us here: comfort, rest, conveniences, air mattresses, the view, beauty, love of humans, all over and above...but the most sweet is just Himself.