The Best Way to Boast

One of the usually delightful aspects of our moving to our new location has been meeting new people, and we've met a great many here who are interesting, helpful, kind, and humble. It's the occasional person, though, who seems to think more highly of herself than she ought to think.

The best way to boast is not to boast at all. If there's something grand and glorious about us, people will find out sooner or later. 

I'm reminded of a good friend of the past who graduated from Yale. Living in a small town then, I thought that was a bit impressive. But he never mentioned it. We learned that piece of information quite indirectly several years later, and not from him. We were even more impressed then because he hadn't flaunted his education. That, as far as I'm concerned, is true humility and graciousness that is due respect.

Grace puts its hand on the boasting mouth, and shuts it once for all.

~ Charles Spurgeon 

Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth.

~ Proverbs 27:2

Death, A Sleep

But I would not have you be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, 

that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.

1 Thessalonians 4:13

Death, A Sleep

Charles H. Spurgeon

O, Let me rest! Come, night, and let me slumber! Come, my last hour! Let me bow myself upon the bed! Come, death, oh, come lightly to my couch! Ay, strike, if thou wilt: but thy stroke is the loving touch that makes my body slumber. Happy, happy, they who die!

They sleep in Jesus, and are blest;

How sweet their slumbers are!

From suffering and from sin released,

And freed from every care!

(If you'd like, you can read Spurgeon's sermon in its entirety here.)

Painting: A Golden Day Dream by Emily Mary Osborn (1828-1925)

Fellowship In the Cemetery

Precious Gifts by Gay Talbot Boassy

The temperature was a bit warmer yesterday, so a friend and I met for a walk. A walk always lends itself to good fellowship, especially a walk in the cemetery. By the time we finished, our bodies were tired, but our spirits were refreshed.

We talked about many things--children and husbands and homes and churches and ministry opportunities and drawing closer to God and aching legs... and heaven. We got to wondering if we would have the same personalities and basically be the same person there as here. Except, of course, we wouldn't sin and our legs wouldn't ache!

Do people in heaven think about the people they left on earth like a newly widowed friend at church thinks about her husband, or anyone who has lost a loved one to death? Would he be sad that she's sad and lonely? Sadness in heaven? I do wonder sometimes what's going on up there--or out there. Wherever it is, it's glorious, if for no other reason than Jesus Christ Our Savior is there.

A walk in the cemetery--a place that draws us to think on eternal things. My widowed friend's husband is buried there. I thought of him yesterday. I thought of Ella. I saw her last evening. She is understandably lonely after 61 years of marriage. Only God's grace can be the balm for a saddened heart. Dear God, please comfort dear Ella and put your loving arms around her.

Spurgeon's yesterday Evening Meditation converges with our thoughts:

"And they heard a great voice from heaven saying unto them,
'Come up hither.'"—Revelation 11:12

"WITHOUT considering these words in their prophetical connection, let us regard them as the invitation of our great Forerunner to His sanctified people. In due time there shall be heard "a great voice from heaven" to every believer, saying, "Come up hither." This should be to the saints the subject of joyful anticipation. Instead of dreading the time when we shall leave this world to go unto the Father, we should be panting for the hour of our emancipation. Our song should be—

"My heart is with Him on His throne,

And ill can brook delay;
Each moment listening for the voice,
'Rise up and come away.'"
"We are not called down to the grave, but up to the skies. Our heaven-born spirits should long for their native air. Yet should the celestial summons be the object of patient waiting. Our God knows best when to bid us "Come up thither." We must not wish to antedate the period of our departure. I know that strong love will make us cry,

"O Lord of Hosts, the waves divide,

And land us all in heaven;"
but patience must have her perfect work. God ordains with accurate wisdom the most fitting time for the redeemed to abide below. Surely, if there could be regrets in heaven, the saints might mourn that they did not live longer here to do more good. Oh, for more sheaves for my Lord's garner! more jewels for His crown! But how, unless there be more work? True, there is the other side of it, that, living so briefly, our sins are the fewer; but oh! when we are fully serving God, and He is giving us to scatter precious seed, and reap a hundredfold, we would even say it is well for us to abide where we are. Whether our Master shall say "go," or "stay," let us be equally well pleased so long as He indulges us with His presence."

Spurgeon's This Evening's Meditation

Another Day of Mercy

Evening Light in Winter

A full day today of giving, and when it is done I am thankful to have had a part. My dad called this evening to let me know that my mother is in the hospital again with another blood clot in her leg. Too many miles between us to go to her. Talked with her on the phone. We talked about growing old and being forgetful and laughed at ourselves. She is in good spirits and looking forward to a few days of bed rest with someone else doing the cooking. Another day of mercy.

A thought from C.H. Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotional

"The dove came in to him in the evening."—Genesis 8:11 

"BLESSED be the Lord for another day of mercy, even though I am now weary with its toils. Unto the preserver of men lift I my song of gratitude. The dove found no rest out of the ark, and therefore returned to it; and my soul has learned yet more fully than ever, this day, that there is no satisfaction to be found in earthly things—God alone can give rest to my spirit. As to my business, my possessions, my family, my attainments, these are all well enough in their way, but they cannot fulfill the desires of my immortal nature. "Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee." It was at the still hour, when the gates of the day were closing, that with weary wing the dove came back to the master: O Lord, enable me this evening thus to return to Jesus. She could not endure to spend a night hovering over the restless waste, not can I bear to be even for another hour away from Jesus, the rest of my heart, the home of my spirit. She did not merely alight upon the roof of the ark, she "came in to him;" even so would my longing spirit look into the secret of the Lord, pierce to the interior of truth, enter into that which is within the veil, and reach to my Beloved in very deed. To Jesus must I come: short of the nearest and dearest intercourse with Him my panting spirit cannot stay. Blessed Lord Jesus, be with me, reveal Thyself, and abide with me all night, so that when I awake I may be still with thee. I note that the dove brought in her mouth an olive branch plucked off, the memorial of the past day, and a prophecy of the future. Have I no pleasing record to bring home? No pledge and earnest of lovingkindness yet to come? Yes, my Lord, I present Thee my grateful acknowledgments for tender mercies which have been new every morning and fresh every evening; and now, I pray Thee, put forth Thy hand and take Thy dove into Thy bosom.

Wait, O soul, and let patience have her perfect work. 

~ Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotional

Painting ~ Evening Light in Winter by George Gardner Symons