Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts

Monday, June 11

Leaning Against a Thorn




Thorns of trials.
Thorns of affliction.
Thorns of adversity.
Thorns of all kinds.

Thorns pricking. Briers sticking. Thistles piercing.

Pricking thorns of...

* abuse
* divorce
* addiction
* a lost job
* failing health
* loss of a home
* financial disaster
* a friend’s betrayal
* a teen making bad choices

The enemy stands ready to prick us at any time with adverse circumstances.

However, sometimes we find ourselves being pricked with the barbs of consequences when we lean into an avoidable situation, something God’s Word clearly states that we are to shun.

If we lean into wrong desires, our hearts will be pricked with the thorns of heartache and sorrow.

If we lean into improper thoughts, our hearts will be pricked with the thorns of guilt and remorse.

If we lean into fleshly lusts, our hearts will be pricked with the thorns of shame and regret.

Sometimes, God will remove the thorns; however, on occasion, He will leave them for our good, as when He left Paul’s thorn to prick him when he leaned into pride.

I wonder if we ever thank the Lord for the thorns? What? Thank Him for a trial, a heartache? All things work together for good, remember? So says Romans 8:28.

The next time a thorny ordeal is pricking you, remember the words of this prayer by George Matheson, a blind Scottish theologian and preacher in the late 1800s...

My, God, I have never thanked Thee for my thorn. I have thanked Thee a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorn...Teach me the glory of my cross; teach me the value of my thorn. Show me that I have climbed to Thee by the path of pain. Show me that my tears have made my rainbow.

He thanked God for his blindness. Is that something we would do?

What did David say? “I will praise the Lord no matter what happens. I will constantly speak of His glories and grace.” (Ps. 34:1 TLB)

What about Habakkuk’s attitude? The prophet asserted his faith in God and promised to praise Him, even if all else failed, “Even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there are no grapes on the vine; even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie empty and barren; even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns are empty, yet I will rejoice in the LORD! I will be joyful in the God of my salvation.” (Hab. 3:17-18 NLT)

Being thankful is easy when everything is hunky-dunky, but the praise that emanates from a pain-ravaged heart, pressed by a thorn, is the sweet-smelling sacrifice of holy incense that rises to the throne room and lingers at the Father’s feet.

But what of those times when our hearts are pricked with grief?

Once I heard a song of sweetness
As it cleft the morning air,
Sounding in its blest completeness,
Like a tender, pleading prayer;
And I sought to find the singer,
Whence the wondrous song was borne,
And I found a bird, sore wounded,
Pinioned by a cruel thorn.

I have seen a soul in darkness,
While its wings with pain were furled,
Giving hope and cheer and gladness
That should bless a weeping world;
And I knew that life of sweetness,
Was of pain and sorrow borne,
And a stricken soul was singing,
With its heart against a thorn.

We are told of One who loved us,
Of a Savior crucified,
We are told of nails that pinioned,
And a spear that pierced His side;
We are told of cruel scourging,
Of a Savior bearing scorn,
And He died for our salvation,
With His brow against a thorn.

We “are not above the Master.”
Will we breathe a sweet refrain?
And His grace will be sufficient,
When our heart is pierced of pain.
Will we live to bless His loved ones,
Tho’ our life be bruised and torn,
Like the bird that sang so sweetly,
With its heart against a thorn?

~ Author unknown

Do you sing and thank the Lord when a thorn pierces your heart with pain?


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Wednesday, March 28

A Mother’s Heart...An Intimate Moment with Mary


She stands at a distance. The sight before her pierces her heart as if thrust in by a javelin.

Her puffy eyes sting with tears, blurring her vision.

Deep sobs heave her chest as her heart pounds in agony.

The crowd jostles her, oblivious to her obvious pain, a pain so deep that no mother on earth will ever feel again.

What brings her to this gruesome sight? A mother’s love...


My son, she cries. Her name is Mary and her son is being crucified. Naked, exposed. Blood trickles down His face from the open wounds in His head when soldiers twisted a crown of thorns upon Him and out of every flesh-exposing lash He received earlier.

Each clang of the soldier’s hammer upon the metal spikes driven into her son’s body jars her whole being. She shakes with empathetic pain as they raise Him up and hang Him in place on the upright beam.

Memories rush through her mind of the child she once carried, of the One Who sat upon her lap and nestled against her. But another memory crowds those out; one she tried to lock away in a secret corner of her heart. Those prophetic words spoken to her after His birth, which now come back to haunt her, “And a sword will pierce your own soul, too.” (Luke 2:35 NIV)

And that moment finally arrived.

Now, greedy soldiers toss out dice to see who gets the bragging rights of owning the traditional garment she lovingly created for her son when he left home. The garment saturated with the perfumed oil of spikenard from the broken alabaster passion box.

She is exhausted from all that has happened to her precious Baby Jesus, the Son of God. Her body reacts to the dreadful stress causing her knees to buckle. But John, the disciple who had leaned upon this Divine Man so many times, stands close to Mary and shores her up.

Seeing His mother beside John, Jesus speaks in a weak whisper to her, “Dear woman, here is your son,” (John 19:26b NLT) as He nods to John. And to John, He says, “Here is your mother.” (John 19:27a NLT)

Moments later, all is over. It is finished, He sighs and gives up His last breath.

Mary wonders: what will it be like without Him, never again to embrace Him, to hear His infectious laugh, to see His ready smile?

Oh, what agony must have filled Mary’s mother-heart that day, probably never realizing the impact of that scene for the thousands of generations yet to come.

A mother’s heart...of love...broken. The greatest pain a mother will ever know, losing her child.

And the rest of the story?

Up from the grave He arose,
With a mighty triumph o’er His foes,
He arose a Victor from the dark domain,
And He lives forever, with His saints to reign.
He arose! He arose!
Hallelujah! Christ arose!

“Amazing LOVE how can it be, that You, my King, would die for me!”

May your heart live daily within the rest of the story.




I'm also sharing this over at The M.O.M. Initiative. Please come on over!

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