Keep on keeping on

Eternity. The prospect of life for ever with Jesus. When I think of it, REALLY think of it, imagining life where there is no pain or heartbreak, no sorrow or tears, no dull ache of emptiness and grief...yes, I know this to be true: 

"I know how great this makes you feel, 

even though you have to put up 

with every kind of aggravation in the meantime. 

... genuine faith put through this suffering comes out proved genuine. When Jesus wraps this all up, it’s your faith, not your gold, that God will have on display as evidence of his victory."

And what IS my faith? 

My faith is in believing that Jesus died because of MY ugliness and sin: I cannot try to beautify it, ignore or hide it.

My faith is in believing that if I follow Jesus' example, I will try my best to live a life of self-sacrifice and care for others - recognising that I cannot achieve 'goodness' or 'greatness' in my own efforts. I can only do what little I can, steeped in imperfection and the possibility of mistakes, and offer it to Jesus to use.

(A bit like grubby uncooked pastry which 4 year old me offered to my grandmother. I remember my puzzlement that she didn't seem to want it...)

Because: "You never saw him, yet you love him. You still don’t see him, yet you trust him—with laughter and singing. Because you kept on believing, you’ll get what you’re looking forward to: total salvation."

Keep on believing.

Everywhere I look...thanking God in everything

Everywhere I turn, I am reminded to be thankful:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dgf1YzscBlE
Every more I make, I make in you, Jesus...everywhere I look I see your face.

And I am thankful.

Today, I am reminded of Betsie Ten Boom, Corrie Ten Boom's sister, who knew the secret of being thankful. I read The Hiding Place many years ago, but this incident has remained in my heart and inspired me over the long years.

Betsie and Corrie had been transferred to Ravensbruck concentration camp, having been arrested for helping to hid Jews fleeing the Nazis in Holland.

"In the feeble light I turned the pages. “Here it is: Comfort the frightened, help the weak, be patient with everyone. See that none of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all…” It seemed written expressly to Ravensbrük.

“Go on,” said Betsie. “That wasn’t all.”

“Oh yes: …Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus.”

“That’s it, Corrie! That’s His answer. Give thanks in all circumstances! That’s what we can do. We can start right now to thank God for every single thing about this new barracks!” I stared at her; then around me at the dark, foul-aired room.

“Such as?” I said.

“Such as being assigned here together.”

I bit my lip. “Oh yes, Lord Jesus!”

“Such as what you’re holding in your hands.” I looked down at the Bible.

“Yes! Thank You, dear Lord, that there was no inspection when we entered here! Thank You for all these women, here in this room, who will meet You in these pages.”

“Yes,” said Betsie, “Thank You for the very crowding here. Since we’re packed so close, that many more will hear!”

She looked at me expectantly. “Corrie!” she prodded.

“Oh, all right. Thank You for the jammed, crammed, stuffed, packed suffocating crowds.”

“Thank You,” Betsie went on serenely, “for the fleas and for–”

The fleas! This was too much. “Betsie, there’s no way even God can make me grateful for a flea.”

“Give thanks in all circumstances,” she quoted. It doesn’t say, ‘in pleasant circumstances.’ Fleas are part of this place where God has put us.”

And so we stood between tiers of bunks and gave thanks for fleas. But this time I was sure Betsie was wrong.

Days later, the sisters learned how they had been blessed by the fleas.

There on the Lagerstrasse we were under rigid surveillance, guards in their warm wool capes marching constantly up and down. It was the same in the center room of the barracks: half a dozen guards or camp police always present. Yet in the large dormitory room there was almost no supervision at all. We did not understand it.

One evening I got back to the barracks late from a wood-gathering foray outside the walls. A light snow lay on the ground and it was hard to find the sticks and twigs with which a small stove was kept going in each room. Betsie was waiting for me, as always, so that we could wait through the food line together. Her eyes were twinkling.

“You’re looking extraordinarily pleased with yourself,” I told her.

“You know, we’ve never understood why we had so much freedom in the big room,” she said. “Well–I’ve found out.”

That afternoon, she said, there’d been confusion in her knitting group about sock sizes and they’d asked the supervisor to come and settle it.

“But she wouldn’t,” said Betsie. “She wouldn’t step through the door and neither would the guards. And you know why?”

Betsie could not keep the triumph from her voice: “Because of the fleas! That’s what she said, ‘That place is crawling with fleas!’”

My mind rushed back to our first hour in this place. I remembered Betsie’s bowed head, remembered her thanks to God for creatures I could see no use for." from The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom.

The truth of Ephesians 5:20 "always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ."