TROUBLES & DIFFICULTIES
Every loss is meant to be filled up by His presence; every sorrow is meant to make His fellowship more to us.
—Andrew Murray
On his sick bed Martin Luther said between groans, “These pains and troubles here are like the type which printers set; as they look now, we have to read them backwards and they seem to have no meaning or sense to them. But up yonder, when the Lord prints us off in the life to come, we shall find they make brave reading.”
A little boy made a boat and eagerly ran to the water to sail it. After a few minutes of pleasure, he became frantic when it suddenly drifted beyond his reach. His distressed cry for help was answered by an older youth. Picking up some pebbles, his new-found friend began tossing them directly at his treasured craft—or so it appeared. As the youngster watched, all hope of retrieving his boat faded from his heart. But then he noticed something. Instead of hitting the tiny vessel, each stone fell beyond it creating a wave that moved it toward the shore. By carefully aiming each throw, the youth was able to get the floating toy back within reach. What joy filled the little fellow as he grasped his treasure.
It is the roughness of the grindstone that sharpens the axe. It is the storm that hardens the fiber of the oak. It is the workday and not the holiday that makes muscle.
Do not ask God to give you a light burden; ask Him to give you a strong shoulder to carry a heavy burden.
—Bob Jones
It has been said that the Christian life is certainly not a bed of roses, but in one sense of the word it is because, when one lies on a bed of roses, there is not only the fragrance of the roses which arises but also there are the thorns.
Track star Wilma Rudolph won three gold medals in the 1960 Olympics, but to get there she had to overcome enormous hurdles. Stricken with scarlet fever at the age of four, she lost the use of her left leg and had to learn to walk again when she was seven.
Years ago a dear saint of God penned these interesting lines: “In the days before passenger trains were equipped with lights, I was traveling by rail to a distant city. Our route was through several tunnels; consequently, at times the cars would be enveloped in deep darkness. Beside me sat a sympathetic Englishman. We were enjoying a pleasant conversation when we started into a long underground mountain pass, and it became pitch black in our coach. My companion, a Christian, had traveled that way many times before. Reassuringly he said, ‘Cheer up, my friend, we’re not in a sack—there’s a ’ole at the other end!’ I never forgot his words. They cheered me later in many of the dark passages of life.”
Jesus, the great Physician
Took my good health away
He gave me pain and suffering
That someday I could say:
Thank you, Lord Jesus,
For sending these trials my way;
Now I know your grace is sufficient
To cover me day by day!
Of course, I ask the questions:
Why? Why me? Why now?
Strange that it would take these things
To work perfection out.
But if through trials
I’m perfect in the end—
Send me your trials,
My Savior, and my Friend.
Lord, I know you’re only
Making me a man,
And for that reason
I need not understand.
I just trust you
And the things you’ve spoken of;
For you have proven to me
That you’re a God of love.
Lord, I know this suffering
Was not sent for my faults;
But that through this weakness
Power would result!
Oh, bless you, Jesus,
For giving me this light!
I know you have a blessing
O’er the hill, out of my sight.
I know you have a blessing
O’er the hill, out of my sight.
—Les Zartman
My diet consists mostly of hasty pudding, boiled corn, and bread baked in ashes, and sometimes a little meat and butter. My lodging is a little heap of straw, laid upon some boards.… My work is exceedingly hard and difficult. I travel on foot a mile and a half in the worst of roads almost daily, and back again; for I live so far from my Indians.… These and many other uncomfortable circumstances attend me; and yet my spiritual conflicts and distresses so far exceed all these, that I scarce think of them, but feel as if I were entertained in the most sumptuous manner.
—David Brainerd
A little girl was walking in a garden when she noticed a particularly beautiful flower. The child admired its beauty and enjoyed its fragrance. “How lovely!” she exclaimed. As she gazed on it, her eyes followed the stem down to the soil in which it grew. “What a shame!” she cried. “This flower is too pretty to be planted in such dirt!” So she pulled up the plant by its roots and ran to the water faucet to wash away the clinging soil. It wasn’t long until the flower wilted and the plant began to die. The gardener saw what she had done and scolded her. “You have destroyed my finest plant,” he said. “But I didn’t like it in that dirt,” whimpered the child. The gardener replied, “I chose that spot and collected and mixed the soil because I knew that only there it would come to maturity.”
The Sequoia trees of California tower as much as 300 feet above the ground. Strangely, these giants have unusually shallow root systems that reach out in all directions to capture the greatest amount of surface moisture. Seldom will you see a redwood standing alone, because high winds would quickly uproot it. That’s why they grow in clusters. Their intertwining roots provide support for one another against the storms.
One day at a time, with its failures and fears,
With its hurts and mistakes, with its weakness and tears
With its portion of pain and its burden of care;
One day at a time we must meet and must bear.
One day at a time—but the day is so long,
And the heart is not brave and the soul is not strong.
O Thou pitiful Christ, be Thou near all the way;
Give courage and patience and strength for the day.
Swift cometh His answer, so clear and so sweet;
“Yea, I will be with thee, thy troubles to meet;
I will not forget thee, nor fail thee, nor grieve;
I will not forsake thee; I never will leave.”
Nor yesterday’s load we are called on to bear,
Nor the morrow’s uncertain and shadowy care;
Why should we look forward or back with dismay?
Our needs, as our mercies, are but for the day.
—Annie Johnson Flint
Christian, when thy way seems darkest,
When thine eyes with tears are dim,
Straight to God thy Father hast’ning,
Tell thy troubles all to Him.
Not to human ear confiding
Thy sad tale of grief and care,
But before thy Father kneeling,
Pour out all thy sorrows there.
Sympathy of friends may cheer thee,
When the fierce, wild storms have burst,
But God only can console thee
When it breaks upon thee first.
Go with words or tears of silence,
Only lay thee at His feet;
Thou shalt prove how great His pity,
And His tenderness how sweet.
Far too well thy Savior loves thee
To allow thy life to be
One long, calm, unbroken summer,
One unruffled, stormless sea.
He would have thee fondly nestling
Closer to His loving breast;
He would have that world seem brighter,
Where alone is perfect rest.
Through His wise and loving purpose
Clearly yet thou may’st not see,
Still believe with faith unshaken,
All will work for good to thee.
Therefore, when thy way is gloomy
And thine eyes with tears are dim,
Straight to God thy Father hast’ning,
Tell thy sorrows all to Him.
The difference in the musical tone of a violin depends mostly on the quality of the wood it is made of, even more than how it is made. The best violin maker in the world cannot make a good instrument from poor material.
A famous violinist always made his own instruments because he wanted to choose a special kind of wood. He shunned the forest but went instead to the mountains. There at the top of a cliff exposed to all the storms he obtained his trees. He knew the severe weather conditions toughened the wood and produced a quality of grain and resiliency that could be developed in no other way. In fact, he used only the wood from the side of the tree facing the wind! Thus, too, by the storms of adversity, does our loving Father prepare in us the music of heaven.
A customer asked a shopkeeper, “What makes this set of china so much more expensive than the other?” “It has had more done to it,” was the reply. “You see, it has been put through the kiln twice. Look, the flowers are on a yellow band. In the cheaper one, they are on a white background. The costly china had to be put through the fire once to get the basic yellow and the second time to get the design on it.”
If we are going through a deep trial that seems to be lasting far too long or has been repeated too often, the Heavenly Father may be developing some aspect of our character.
One by one He took them from me,
All the things I valued most,
Until I was empty handed;
Every glittering toy was lost.
And I walked earth’s highways, grieving,
In my rags and poverty,
Till I heard His voice inviting,
“Lift your empty hands to Me!”
So I held my hands toward heaven,
And He filled them with a store
Of His own transcendent riches,
Till they could contain no more.
And at last I comprehended
With my stupid mind and dull
That God could not pour His riches
Into hands already full!
—Martha Snell Nicholson
A gifted young man in London began preparing for the ministry. Having surrendered his life to Christ, he wanted to be fully used by the Lord. Before his ordination, he was required to preach a trial sermon before a select group of clergymen. The tenseness of the situation made him nervous, especially when he saw his beautiful fiancée in the audience. In his anxiety he lost his train of thought and failed to be approved. His rejection by the examining board was a stunning disappointment, and his grief was increased when the young lady broke their engagement because he had done so poorly. He fought a terrible battle with depression. After pouring out his complaint before God, he felt the burden lifted as he realized that the Lord was working out a blessed plan for his life. He was deeply impressed with Romans 8:28 and experienced peace in his soul.
Taking the test again, he was ordained to the ministry. Later the profound preaching of G. Campbell Morgan moved the masses by its biblical depth and heartwarming appeal. He authored a good number of Bible commentaries and other books, and at his death he left a legacy of sermons that still stir the hearts of people whenever they are read. The crisis he survived by God’s grace made him a spiritual giant.
A cowboy was once asked, “What important thing have you learned from your experience on the range?”
“The Herefords taught me one of life’s most important lessons,” he replied. “We used to breed cattle for a living, but the winter storms would take an awful toll. Again and again after a severe storm we would find most of our stock piled up against the fences, dead. They would turn their backs on the icy blasts and slowly drift downward twenty miles until the fences stopped them. There they just piled up and died.
“But the Herefords were different. They would head straight into the wind and slowly walk the other way until they came to the upper boundary fence, where they stood still facing the storm. We always found them alive and well. They saved themselves by facing the storm!”
Take a piece of wax, a piece of meat, some sand, some clay, and some shavings, put them on the fire and see how they react. Each of them is being acted on by the same agent, yet … the wax melts, the meat fries, the sand dries up, the clay hardens, the shavings blaze.
Just so … under identical influence of circumstances and environment one person is made better and stronger, another weaker, while another withers away.
—The Vineland Voice
The old sea captain was quizzing a young naval student. “What steps would you take if a sudden storm came up on the starboard?”
“I’d throw out an anchor, sir.”
“What would you do if another storm sprang up aft?”
“I’d throw out another anchor, sir.”
“But what if a third storm sprang up forward?”
“I’d throw out another anchor, captain.”
“Just a minute, son,” said the captain. “Where in the world are you getting all these anchors?”
“From the same place you’re getting all your storms.”
Dan Crawford had the difficult task of following in the steps of David Livingstone, the missionary who gave his life in ministering the Word of God in Africa. Crawford didn’t have the imposing personality of his famous predecessor, so at first he had trouble winning the loyalty of the tribal people. Even his church back home wasn’t sure he could carry on the work. With God’s help, however, he did a magnificent job. When he died, a well-worn copy of the New Testament was found in his pocket. A poem, evidently his own, handwritten on the inside cover, revealed the secret of his success:
I cannot do it alone!
The waves dash fast and high;
The fog comes chilling around,
And the light goes out in the sky.
But I know that we two shall win in the end—
Jesus and I.
Coward, and wayward, and weak,
I change with the changing sky,
Today so strong and brave,
Tomorrow too weak to fly;
But—He never gives in! So we two shall win—
Jesus and I!
The hymn writer George Neumark was afflicted with blindness in his later years. This infirmity was just one more trial in a life already filled with sorrow and distress. While still a young man, he had been reduced to deep poverty and was down to his last penny. Yet his trust in God did not fail, for he found great strength in the promise of Psalm 55:22, “Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee.” He prayed most earnestly for the Savior’s direction and consolation. The answer came in the form of an unexpected appointment as tutor for the family of a rich judge. Relieved and delighted, he was prompted to compose one of his best-known hymns, “If Thou But Suffer God to Guide Thee.” He said he had penned it to thank the Lord for His sustaining grace. Later Johann Sebastian Bach saw such beauty in the hymn that he used it as the basis for a cantata, and Mendelssohn included it in his oratorio “Saint Paul.”
There is a legend about a grandfather clock that stood in a corner for three generations, faithfully ticking off the minutes, hours, and days—its means of operation was a heavy weight suspended by a double chain. One of its new owners, believing that an old clock should not bear such a load, released the weight. Immediately the ticking stopped. According to the legend, the clock asked, “Why did you do that?” The owner replied, “I wanted to lighten your burden.” “Please put my weight back,” replied the clock. “That is what keeps me going.”
—John D. Jess
There is a beautiful figure in one of Wordsworth’s poems of a bird that is swept from Norway by a storm. It battles against the storm with desperate effort, eager to wing back to Norway. But all is vain, so at last he yields, thinking the gale will carry it to its death—but the gale carries it to sunny England with its green meadows and forest glades.
In the winter the mountains are covered with snow and its seems as though they will remain white forever. However, as spring comes, the sun shines on the snow-capped peaks and melts off the snow. The snow then flows off into streams, thus providing water power and supply for man. It has in this way become a blessing to others.
A medieval man of God went on a journey. All he owned were a scroll, a candle, and a cock. The scroll he read and loved, the candle provided him light, the cock crowed to awaken him in the morning.
One evening he arrived in a small town. He asked hospitality from home after home but was rudely refused both food and lodging.
“God in His mercy and justice does all things well,” said the believing man. He found protection from the wind in the clump of high bushes, tethered his cock nearby and, with praise in his heart, began to read his scroll.
A sudden gust of wind blew out his light, and the good man found himself without the means to relight his candle.
“God in His mercy and justice does all things well,” said the trusting man. And he prepared to lie down to sleep. Suddenly a fox snapped out of the darkness, and the life of his cock was gone.
“God in His mercy and justice does all things well,” said the godly man, yet with sorrow. And he lay down and slept.
In the morning, the light awakened him. He gathered his book to his heart and walked back to the unfriendly village.
To his horror, he saw that the robbers had come in the night. The village had been plundered and burned. The villagers had been murdered.
The man of God remembered. Had he been granted hospitality, he too would have died; and had his light shone or his cock crowed, the robbers would have been led to him.
“God in His mercy and justice does all things well,” said the godly man. And in the light of day, he read his scroll and praised God.
Glancing out of my picture window, I was impressed by an interesting sight. A robin was busily flitting about in the rain, stopping only momentarily to sing his lovely, trilling song. Unlike the other birds, this fine-feathered creature wasn’t seeking shelter from the downpour, but was delighting himself in the shower. He knew that much valuable food was being made available by the rain, for the worms he sought would be near the surface and more plentiful in the dampened sod. As I watched, I thought of the torrents of trial and testing that come into our lives as Christians. We too should never try to hide from them, but rather rejoice in the spiritual benefits God wants us to derive from these experiences.
—Russell Spray
Years ago the captain of an ocean liner took his young daughter along on his run from Liverpool, England, to New York City. One night when all the passengers were asleep, the huge vessel ran into some violent weather. The wind came sweeping over the water, and mighty swells rolled across the bow of the ship. All movable objects were being tossed about, and everyone soon sensed the imminent danger. Many sprang from their berths in alarm and began to dress. The captain’s little girl, eight years old, was awakened and cried out, “What’s the matter?” When told about the storm, she asked, “Is my father steering the ship?” Being assured that he was, she put her head on her pillow, and in spite of the howling gale and crashing waves she was soon fast asleep.
A man was walking down a city street unaware that the broken end of a high voltage wire was lying across the pavement just ahead of him. A workman saw the man approaching the wire. Unable to warn him by voice because of the surrounding noise, the workman picked up a stone and threw it at him. It struck him on the chest and this caused the man to stop and look up. Thus he saw the danger he was in just a moment before he was about to step on the wire. With tears streaming down his face he thanked the man who threw the stone for saving his life. How often the Lord has to use some such measure to spare us from the unseen dangers that surround us.
“You smell delightfully fragrant,” said the Gravel Walk to the bed of Chamomile flowers under the window.
“We have been trodden on,” replied the Chamomiles.
“Treading on me produces no sweetness,” said the Gravel Walk.
“Our natures are different,” answered the Chamomiles. “Gravel walks become only the harder by being trodden upon; but the affect on our own selves is that, if pressed and bruised when the dew is upon us, we give forth the sweet smell you now delight in.”
“Very delightful,” replied the Gravel Walk.
One day a naturalist, out in his garden, observed a most unusually large and beautiful butterfly, fluttering as though in great distress; it seemed to be caught as though it could not release itself. The naturalist, thinking to release the precious thing, took hold of the wings and set it free. It flew but a few feet and fell to the ground dead.
He picked up the poor thing, took it into his laboratory, and put it under a magnifying glass to discover the cause of its death. There he found the life-blood flowing from the tiny arteries of its wings. Nature had fastened it to its chrysalis and was allowing it to flutter and flutter so that its wings might grow strong. It was the muscle-developing process that nature was giving it so that it might have an unusual range among the flowers and gardens. If it had only fluttered long enough, the butterfly would have come forth ready for the wide range; but release ended the beautiful dream.
Martin Wells Knapp was once undergoing a severe trial, and in his secret devotions he asked God to remove his trial. As he waited before the Lord, the vision of a rough piece of marble rose before him with a sculptor grinding and chiseling. Watching the dust and chips fill the air, he noticed a beautiful image begin to appear in the marble. The Lord spoke to him and said, “Son, you are that block of marble. I have an image in my mind, and I desire to produce in your character, and I will do so if you will stand the grinding; but I will stop now if you so desire.” Knapp broke down and said, “Lord, continue the chiseling and grinding.”
The cupola of that world-famous structure, Saint Paul’s Cathedral in London, was painted by Sir James Thornhill, who was compelled to do his work while standing on a swinging scaffold far above the pavement. One day when he had finished a detail on which he had spend hours of painstaking effort, he stopped to inspect his artistry. Slowly he began moving backward in order to get a better view. A man working with him suddenly became aware that one more backward step would result in a fatal fall. To startle Thornhill with a shout might also make him topple from the scaffold. Quick as a flash he took a brush and made a sweeping stroke across the exquisite work Thornhill was admiring. Greatly disturbed, the artist rushed forward with a cry of anger and dismay. After his companion explained his strange action, however, the great artist burst into expressions of gratitude.
Passengers were seated on a plane at the Washington Airport, ready to take off for New York, when an enormous storm suddenly came up. Great clouds appeared and the sky became dark and sinister. In a matter of minutes a high wind came over the Potomac River, and great sheets of rain beat against the windows of the plane. The plane, which was at the end of the runway, actually rocked from the force of the wind. The soft, drawling, Texas-like voice of the pilot came on. “Ladies and Gentlemen,“he said, “there’s a storm center directly above the airport and we are getting the brunt of it. We cannot take off in this storm. We are going to wait it out. Our report,” he continued, “is that this storm will pass in about forty-five minutes. So you people who have business engagements in New York which you are fretting about may just as well sit back and relax, because we’re not going to New York for a while yet. Meanwhile,” he went on, “I’m going to bring the plane into the wind so you will be more comfortable. Don’t worry about anything.” And then he added this bit of philosophy: “All storms ultimately pass.”
Phyllis Walk of Colorado Springs, Colorado, was traveling a back road in Colorado when she came on a large herd of sheep. She stopped and turned off the engine while waiting for them to pass. But instead of passing they encircled the car as if it were part of the geography.
She rolled down the window and yelled, “Hey, you guys, give me a break and let me through!”
Sounding the horn didn’t work. The sheep just bleated back. She grew more and more frustrated. She had meant the back road to be a short cut. “Listen,” she said, “I could starve here!”
“Baaahh!”
At last their shepherd came along. “Your mistake was stopping,” he said, smiling at her. “Sheep are like troubles. Show them you mean to go forward, and they’ll move aside.”
Driving away, she thought a little bit about the philosopher-shepherd. He had a point. All her yelling and beeping and fretting hadn’t impressed the sheep. Only her moving forward showed them she meant business.
—Charles R. Diffee
I’ve found that it is not good to talk about your troubles. Eighty percent of the people who hear them don’t care and the other twenty percent are glad you’re having trouble.
—Tommy Lasorda
A man in a large eastern city wrote to the local newspaper to report that the country is in far worse shape than most people suspect. His evidence: “Everytime I call Dial-a-Prayer, I get a busy signal.”
—Bits & Pieces
An elder was known for his counseling ministry, but not so much for his example. They had a little quip about him. They said, “In solving problems, he is quite a whiz—when the trouble is yours instead of his.”