Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled,
And pardoned from his sin.
Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure—
The saints’ and angels’ song.
When hoary time shall pass away,
And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
When men who here refuse to pray,
On rocks and hills and mountains call,
God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
All measureless and strong;
Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
The saints’ and angels’ song.
Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.
~Frederick M. Lehman
Some weeks ago, God and I were having a rough go of it. Strike that. I was having a rough go of it and took God along for the ride. I spent an entire morning speaking ill of the Father. (This is going to shock a few of you.) I said things like "God doesn't care. God doesn't come through when we need Him. He never has done a thing when I've asked him to. He always takes His own sweet time." And on and on I went. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't faith-filled.
Somewhere in the middle of my rant, I heard that still small voice. You'll be surprised at what it said, but first let me say why I think that a still small voice was heard in the first place. I don't often hear it; it never sounds like anything that I would say or think; and it redirects my racing, stinking thinking. It's always so quiet that it amazes me I can hear it at all given my whirling thoughts.
Okay, this is what the voice said: Say 'You.'
Me: Say what?
The Voice: Say 'You.'
Me: Okay, I don't get it.
The Voice: Say You. Talk directly to me.
Me: Ahhhh...
"You don't care. You don't come through when I need You. You never do anything when I need You to. You always take Your own sweet time."
Only thing is, I didn't get past "You don't care." My hard heart was melted like snow. He allowed me to know smack in the middle of my complaints that He did care. Has my situation changed? No. Do I think that it will? Yes, it must. Do I believe that God has my best interests at heart and is on the case? Absolutely.
Listen for that still small voice. You may be surprised by what He has to say to you today.
