from the pen of Jim Elliott (cross-archive)

We are so utterly ordinary, so commonplace, while we profess to know a Power the Twentieth Century does not reckon with. But we are "harmless," and therefore unharmed. We are spiritual pacifists, non-militants, conscientious objectors in this battle-to-the-death with principalities and powers in high places. Meekness must be had for contact with men, but brass, outspoken boldness is required to take part in the comradeship of the Cross. We are "sideliners" -- coaching and criticizing the real wrestlers while content to sit by and leave the enemies of God unchallenged. The world cannot hate us, we are too much like its own. Oh that God would make us dangerous!

:blink: (cross-archive)

So going through various files for inspiration on how to describe myself to a college, I ran across this quote I had saved last May, when it helped greatly. Now it touches me deeper than I can explain.


The Journals of Jim Elliot
"Waiting on God" 1950

April 19, Evening, Isaiah 42.
Seeking a promise of God's acceptance of my trust in Him for guidance in the next one and a half months, I got this encouragement from Isaiah 42:16. I fulfil the qualifications for once, Lord. Most surely, I am blind.

April 20. I asked earnestly last night for some token on guidance to be shown me today concerning my going to Wycliffe. I got none. It is clear to me tonight that I can do quite well without guidance concerning Wycliffe. I see that God is going to give specific leading, not when I ask for it, but when I need it and not until.

and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs (cross-archive)

I try... I fail miserably, but I try to truly sing the words during our home fellowship. To not sing with the mouth only, but with the heart.

Sometimes this resolve pays off wonderfully, as I learn to praise God.

Other times, I find I must not sing. Or cannot.

This last Sunday, I had a little episode of the latter.

I sung the first verse of "America the Beautiful" automatically. And then woke up. As in, woke up from the automatism we fall so easily into.

What is this I'm singing?

A sentimental hymn about America? During church?

It felt like idolatry.

I wondered if any of the early Christians sung hymns like "Rome the Beautiful."