Repenting of my repentance

I am a mom of three boys. I know this to be true: Clothes get dirty. We are hopelessly attracted to dirt and puddles, chocolate and jam. We spill milk; we get bloody noses. From morning to night, I take off, I wash, I put on. Repeat. The laundry basket is never empty.

The fullness of the laundry basket reminds me of the fullness of grace (and how I should not procrastinate). The mundane task of changing and washing points me to the ceaseless and necessary work of repentance.

Christ will one day clothe his Bride with fine linen, bright and pure (Revelation 19:8). On this side of eternity, however, my linen is never white. Even my tiniest sacrifices, moments of selflessness, are drenched with selfish and prideful thoughts. In the words of the Puritans, “my best prayers are stained with sin; my penitential tears are so much impurity… I need to repent of my repentance; I need my tears to be washed” (The Valley of Vision, 136-137).

When I lack the words to pray, I lean heavily on the words of men and women who walked before me. I return to this prayer again and again. Written during a screen-less time, the prayers of the Puritans are steeped in word pictures. This one is soaked in the imagery of rags and robes, reminding me that Christ is my best robe, my perfect covering.



O God of Grace,
You have imputed my sin to my substitute,
and have imputed his righteousness to my soul,
clothing me with a bridegroom's robe,
decking me with jewels of holiness.

But in my Christian walk I am still in rags;
my best prayers are stained with sin;
my penitential tears are so much impurity;
my confessions of wrong are so many aggravations of sin;
my receiving the Spirit is tinctured with selfishness.

I need to repent of my repentance;
I need my tears to be washed;
I have no robe to bring to cover my sins,
no loom to weave my own righteousness;
I am always standing clothed in filthy garments,
and by grace am always receiving change of raiment,
for you always justify the ungodly;
I am always going into the far country,
and always returning home as a prodigal,
always saying, "Father, forgive me,"
and you are always bringing forth the best robe.

Every morning let me wear it,
every evening return in it,
go out to the day's work in it,
be married in it,
be wound in death in it,
stand before the great white throne in it,
enter heaven in it shining as the sun.
Grant me never to lose sight of the exceeding sinfulness of sin,
the exceeding righteousness of salvation,
the exceeding glory of Christ,
the exceeding beauty of holiness,
the exceeding wonder of grace.

The Valley of Vision, 136-137.

Waiting for joy

Rejoice in the Lord always,
again I will say, rejoice.

These days, I've been learning to pick up my sword (and boy, is it heavy), fighting to rejoice.

People like to make a distinction between happiness and joy. They claim that happiness is all about the exterior, superficial and fleeting, whereas joy comes from deep within, and thus somehow more spiritual, superior, and forever. Or something like that.

I am not convinced.

First, I see no such distinction in the Bible. I see no "inner joy" in Scripture. Joy shouts, and sings, and it's loud. That sounds a lot like happiness to me.

Second, I don't know how joy and happiness would look any different in the eyes of my children. When mommy is happy, she is joyful. When mommy is joyful, she is happy. And when she is not, well, she's not.

I know I am not required  to be (and I don't want to be) a chirpy, upbeat, sugary-sweet-optimist kind of a mother. But I do want to be gentle, cheerful, compassionate, patient, and kind. And it's really hard to be these things when I am not joyful.

So, how am I to rejoice—always, in my soul and with my lips—even when I don't feel like it?

I want to fight, so badly, but I don't know my weapons. Sometimes, I don't even know my enemies. I am desperate to find some answers. So, I've been scouring the Scripture for passages on joy, rejoicing, happiness — what it looks like, when it happens, and particularly, what is the cause of joy.

I still have not figured it out, but here are some thoughts thus far.

1. Happiness flows out of right worship.

The distinction is not so much between the so-called joy and the so-called happiness, but the real difference lies in the object of my worship. Whom am I worshiping?

So often, the source of my joy is also the cause of my fears and worries. What I regard to be the source of joy becomes an idol in my life, whether it is my goals, my space, my schedule, an orderly house, my children's health, their education, their happiness, my family's approval of me, my husband's happiness, his affection — whatever it is. When the pedestals of my idols are threatened, when I feel that I may lose them, fear and anxiety are sure to follow.

So when I am discouraged or fearful or worried, when I have no joy, the thing to do is not to force myself to be happy (it doesn't work! I've tried it). What I need to do is to shift the object of my worship. I need to stop looking to my idols for hope and salvation, and fix my eyes on the cross.


2. Happiness is the response of those who are no longer afraid.
(Psalms 27; 31:7; Isaiah 41:14-16; 42:5-13)

Fear is such an obstacle to joy. When I find myself discouraged or anxious, it is helpful to ask myself what is it that I fear, or why am I afraid? Then, I would ask myself, is my Lord bigger than these fears?

The battle is often not a fight against my circumstances, but it is a fight to see the Lord for who he is. My Lord who calmed the sea and quieted the storm, fed the thousands, healed the sick, raised the dead. My Lord who created everything out of nothing, laid down his life, and reign over death and sin and me with mercy and compassion.

This Lord. Does he know? Can he see? Is he bigger than this fear that grips my soul?

Yes. Praise be to God. He is.


3. Happiness follows repentance.
(Psalm 32-33)

Whether it be with my husband or my children, tremendous relief and gratitude follows when they forgive me for the wrongs I have done. Such liberty is found after being bound up in my own little world of guilt, remorse, and self-justifications. Happiness is when I am able to come up to the surface and breathe again, knowing that they have forgiven me, that they still love me and want me.

This is all the more true with God. He always forgives. He always forgets. And his love is unchanging.


4. Happiness comes to those who dwell in the Word.
(Psalm 1; 119; Joshua 1)

The Father has given us the Word. He has given us instructions on how we may receive grace. If we do not place ourselves in the way of grace, it must be because we don't want grace.

Meditate on the Word day and night. Live there. Let that world become our reality. Let that world define how we perceive this world.

The point is this: I saw more clearly than ever, that the first great and primary business to which I ought to attend every day was, to have my soul happy in the Lord. The first thing to be concerned about was not, how much I might serve the Lord, how I might glorify the Lord; but how I might get my soul into a happy state, and how my inner man might be nourished. For I might seek to set the truth before the unconverted, I might seek to benefit believers, I might seek to relieve the distressed, I might in other ways seek to behave myself as it becomes a child of God in this world; and yet, not being happy in the Lord, and not being nourished and strengthened in my inner man day by day, all this might not be attended to in a right spirit

Autobiography of George Mueller, compiled by Fred Bergen, (London: J. Nisbet Co., 1906), 152-154.

5. Happiness is gift—for which we fight.

Joy is a fruit of the Spirit. The work is ours—to water, to pull out the weeds, to guard our hearts, but it is the Lord who makes the garden grow. We cannot attain happiness on our own, yet we must strive after it with our entire being.

In order to receive joy, we must keep ourselves in the way of joy. Like many promises in Scripture, we must seek ye first, and it shall be given. Work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you. Pursue wisdom, for the Lord gives wisdom.

Sometimes, joy comes. Sometimes, it doesn't. So while it is night, we weep, we mourn, we sing in the dark. For the nights, too, come from God.

We sit, and we wait. For joy comes in the morning. We wait in meditation and repentance, with prayer and worship. Thankfully, faithfulness is not measured by fruitfulness.

We remain in the way of joy. So when the Savior passes us by, we would recognize him. We would be ready to receive him.

Here is the link to a follow-up post, Sorrowful, yet Always Rejoicing.

An obligatory picture of my happiest baby. His joy is contagious.

Photo credit: Vivian Wu! Thank you for a happy day in your garden. =)

Hand on my mouth, my mouth in the dust

Hans is neck-deep in writing sermons for a retreat next weekend. He will be expounding on how our worship of God (or other idols) overflows into the other areas of our lives. He requested that I speak to the women on how this plays out in our lives as daughters, sisters, wives, and mothers. In preparation for that workshop, I've been studying passages on Lady Wisdom in the book of Proverbs.

The process has been slow and humiliating.

A few nights ago, I found some time to sit down and study. I was so glad that I had finally made some progress and was feeling quite lofty about the whole thing. Mere moments later, I found myself tangled in a petty disagreement with Hans, my mouth hurling foolish, hurtful words. To make matters worse, instead of apologizing right away, I even tried to justify myself.

How do I fall so far and so quickly? One moment I was listening to Lady Wisdom, thinking I understood her. The next moment, I had my face planted in dirt.

With my hand on my mouth, and my mouth in the dust, I give thanks. The Lord chastens me still. He has not given up on his disobedient child. The question is whether I am listening.

I do not have the strength to utter the words of Charles Simeon, but they serve, nevertheless, as a good aim to pursue.

Repentance is in every view so desirable, so necessary, so suited to honor God, that I seek that above all. The tender heart, the broken and contrite spirit, are to me far above all the joys that I could ever hope for in this vale of tears. I long to be in my proper place, my hand on my mouth, and my mouth in the dust... I feel this to be safe ground. Here I cannot err... I am sure that whatever God may despise... He will not despise the broken and contrite heart.

That which is necessary

Repentance and forgiveness are daily, necessary routines in our marriage. Routine unlike eating dry, plain oatmeal. But the routine of waves. Ebbing, flowing. Covering, returning. Wide, open shores. Big, generous waves.

Repentance and forgiveness do not define our marriage. There is so much more to our lives, entwined. But without them, there would be no us. There would be no life.

On this side of eternity, we dance this awkward waltz. We laugh, we cry. We step on toes, we let it go. We turn and return. We give and forgive. We dance with arms wide open, hands holding fast.

Repentance and forgiveness are daily, necessary routines in our worship. Routines unlike boring, redundant worksheets. But the routine of hungry boys at meal times. The routine of children running outside, of autumns warm and golden.

Repentance and forgiveness do not define our worship, our allegiance. There is so much more to our lives, entwined with Christ. But without these, there would be no life. There would be no worship.

On this side of eternity, our repentance and God's forgiveness are necessary. Rebels before a holy God. Are we to be like a standing tree or the chaff that the wind drives away?

Children, turn and return. God gives and forgives. He waits with arms wide open, his hand holding fast, holding us.

A letter to the King's Daughter

Dearest sister,

I received word that you have been weary. I am writing in hopes to remind you of who you are. You are the Daughter of the King. Let your confidence not be in yourself or in other human beings, but rest your hope in the Gospel -- by which you have been rescued.

Our Father did not create us to be weak and powerless. He has given us strength to work and minds to think. Remember your charge. The children of the King are to be fruitful and have dominion over his creation. We were created to be rulers.

Therefore, the daughters of the King must know the King's law. For how shall we rule if we do not know the will of our Father? His Word gives life. Let his instructions cover our tongues and our lips like sweet honey. Be quick to apply it first to ourselves.

Remember our Father, and how he rules with patience and mercy. Remember our eldest brother, the Firstborn of our Father, and how he ruled. The cross was his throne, where Prince of Peace was glorified. He ruled by dying in our place, in order that we might be his family. Rule likewise in God's kingdom.

Look around you, for this is the domain to which you have been entrusted by the King. Is your domain your home? Is it your work place? Is it your school? Who are the people you see everyday? Who are the people nearest and dearest to you? What are their needs? How can you make your sphere a brighter, lovelier place?

Be ready to give grace, as the recipients of grace. You are an ambassador of our Father, you represent the King. Be a hostess wherever you go. It does not mean you are necessarily outgoing, or that you have to be the leader. Being a hostess simply means that you are attentive and mindful of other people. Do not wait around or expect others to be kind to you first. Engage people in conversations. Be watchful for those who might be in need of a friend. Being "shy" is sometimes another excuse to be self-centered. 

Our Father calls his children to be fruitful. So do not be idle. Never be doing nothing, always be doing something. Be busy with good works. Be certain about your purpose and your end. Labor with hope and joy. Go after things that last forever. Seize every opportunity to serve others. Make things for them, write to them, cook for them.

Dress as the daughters of the King. Present yourselves in a befitting manner, for we live and stand in the King's court. Our eldest brother suffered shame and nakedness in order that we might be clothed with his righteousness. So, cover yourselves — with humility and good works.

Love your brothers, for they are the sons of the King. Respect and protect them. Do not lead their hearts astray. One of them may be your husband (someday). As for the rest of them, you don't know to whom they belong. So, back off. (Until, of course, you know for sure he is yours to keep)

The daughters of the King rest in the King's thoughts towards us. We rest in our relationship with our Father. Therefore, we give, we love, without expecting to be loved in return. We do not need to freak out about today, or worry about tomorrow. When other hurts and despise us, show grace in return. Have the heart of an ocean, and not be shallow and easily disturbed — like a puddle.

Be self-aware, especially of the motivations in our hearts — why we do what we do. When we find sinful and self-glorifying intentions, repent. Let all reflection turn into repentance and thanksgiving.

We are passionate creatures. We were given emotions to love God and love others, though our tendency is to love ourselves. Resist morbid introspection, a.k.a. dumpster diving. Resist sentimentalism. Resist self-pity. These do not bear fruit. Do not work up all kinds of emotions and daydreams, indulging ourselves for the sake feeling something. When we fall into despair, lift our eyes to cross. When we feel needy, give.

Weary though you may be, keep your eyes on the cross and keep walking. Walk with your sisters, and occasionally — dance! Run! Rejoice always! For we belong to our Father, and Christ is our Brother. Remember who you are, by grace, you are the King's daughter.

Much love,
Your sister

When to obey

Those who spend time with our family would hear me say this a lot: Obedience means that you obey now. Right away. Immediately.

Not after you think about it. Not in a little bit. Not when you are ready to obey. The only time that is appropriate for obedience is the moment you receive the instruction, not when you decide you want to obey.

Oh how difficult is this lesson! And how deceitful is the heart.

I do the exact thing I am teaching my sons not to do. Seeing my own foolishness in them stirs in me much annoyance -- and much fear -- as I know exactly where this path leads. Been there. At the same time, it also stirs up compassion for their little souls, and the urgency to steer them away.

They must learn to heed my voice, and trust in my love for them. Obeying right away can be the difference between life and death. And yet, I am somehow able to justify that my own sin is not as deadly.

When God instructs, I beg for more time. Or, I demand more time. Or, I simply ignore his commands. What makes it worse is that in my delay I start basking in my self-righteousness and consoling myself with my OK-ness. When the truth is that I am as OK as a four-year-old walking accross a busy intersection, and as safe as a two-year-old opening the door of a burning oven.

Well, at least I am aware that I need to be more consistent in my prayer life, or reading and meditating God's Word. Next year, I will serve and participate more at church. I promise I will be more hospitable or more patient after my pregnancy, or when the kids are older. I will reach out to that person at church when I finish this project. I will be more faithful in my church attendance after this season exams or (activity of your choice). I will put an end to this fling after graduation, it's not like I am going to marry him. I promise I will stop wasting time. This is the last (fill in the blank) I will ever watch. I need more time to think about getting baptized. This is a big decision! This is so hard! I am sure God understands.

Promising to obey is not obeying. Thinking about obeying is not righteousness. If I am not obeying right now, I am not obeying. Like Jonah, my prayers can be so full of conceit and deceit when the only prayer acceptable to God is the prayer of repentance.

I know I am asking my children to do a hard thing. An impossible thing, in fact. Immediate obedience requires death. To deny our own understanding, intuition, curiosity, and desires, and simply trust in the wisdom of our Father.

Thanks be to God that Christ has first demonstrated his obedience to the Father on the cross. The great shepherd laid down his life for his sheep. I can stand before the throne of grace only because I am covered in his blood, clothed in his obedience.

Jonah did not say sorry

We think we know the story. We have all read it in picture books and heard it in Sunday school: Jonah disobeys, Jonah says sorry, Jonah obeys. We need to be like Jonah. The end.

But Jonah did not say sorry, and he did not obey. At least not in the Bible.

Here are four things that are different in the true story:

1. Jonah's request to be thrown into the sea was an act of rebellion, not self-sacrifice.

Admitting he was wrong is very different from being sorry, and repenting. Jonah may have admitted the storm was his fault, but he wasn't sorry. Why didn't he ask God for forgiveness right away? If his intention was simply to save the sailors from the storm, why did he not jump off the ship himself? Why ask the sailors to throw him overboard?

This was not self-sacrifice; this was not obedience. He continued to run, this time pulling the sailors into his scheme. The sailors were not fooled. They were well aware that he was asking them to commit murder (Jonah 1:13-14). 

2. Jonah's prayer in the belly of the fish was self-righteous and self-centered. And he did not say sorry.

Most storybooks summarize the entire chapter two with one sentence: "Jonah prayed and said sorry for running away" or "Jonah prayed and asked God to forgive him."

But he didn't.

Chapter two contains no hint of repentance and no request for forgiveness. Instead, his prayer was about how good his was, comparing himself to the faithful and persecuted servant in Psalm 5 and 12. Quoting scripture in your prayer doesn't make it true. 

3. Jonah did not obey God after the fish vomited.

First, God gave the same command to Jonah a second time (this never happens to another prophet in the Bible). If God has to give the command again, it is not likely that he went straight to Nineveh as most storybooks would have us believe.

Second, Jonah did not proclaim God's message to the people in Nineveh. He might have told part of God's message: "In forty days, Nineveh will be destroyed." But he didn't even mention God's name! There is a distinct pattern in God's messages to those he loves and wants to rescue: Repent and believe. Jonah said none of those things. He didn't want to.

Yet, because God is God — the people repented and believed anyway!

4. Most stories end in Nineveh. But that is not the end!

Chapter four ties all it all together. It must not be skipped. Jonah throws a tantrum. A full-out, four-year-old kind of tantrum (except worse because he wasn't a four-year-old). If Jonah had repented and obeyed like most storybooks claim, why the outburst now?

Here, Jonah hung out his dirty laundry for all to see. We now know exactly why he disobeyed. Jonah ran away not because he was mad at the Assyrians or the Ninevites (Israel's enemies, as many storybooks try to explain). He was mad at God. Jonah was mad at God for being God—for being kind and patient, merciful and compassionate. The very reasons why he was still alive!

God is hero of the story. And we must tell the story, the whole story, and nothing but the story.


Update (April 8, 2015): Jonah continued to stay with me for years, patiently teaching me how to pray. He taught me how to say sorry. I wrote a more recent reflection on Jonah on the Gospel Coalition Blog. 

 

On Repentance

My friend Janice had a way of seeing ordinary things. I loved looking through her eyes. She would say of a rock, "this is lovely," and somehow, it would be lovely.

Hazelnut coffee. The color blue. Mountain climbing. These things she made lovely because she loved them.

One of my fondest memories of her happened late one night when we were up talking, typical for two teenage girls at a sleepover. We were getting ready for my first mountain climb the next morning. This was our only climb up Mt. Kinabalu together. Yet, it feels as though we've climbed it many times together since.

As our hungry stomachs growled at each other, she gave me two phrases that stayed with me for a long, long time:

In repentance and rest you will be saved,
In quietness and trust is your strength.
(Isaiah 30:15)

I carried these words up the mountain the next day, with Janice climbing beside me. Or rather, with Janice pulling me along. When I entered my years of wilderness, these words came with me. An echo from the past, they called me to return to the high hills of Kinabalu.

These words beckon me still.

I read the other day, for the first time, the first of Luther's Ninety-Five Theses. He wrote,

Our Lord and Master Jesus Christ, when He said “repent,” willed that the whole life of believers should be repentance.

The trumpet call of the Protestant Reformation: All of life is repentance.

Not merely a guilty confession, or an apology, or even a prayer for forgiveness.

I had it all wrong. I've always thought of repentance as a U-turn. Yet, after many many turns (sometimes in a single day), the destination still seems so far away.

No, repentance is much more than a U-turn. Repentance is a climb. A long and arduous climb where we fight against the gravity of our sin, the weight of our flesh, and the weakness of our will. To repent is to press on, to take another step closer to the summit yet unseen.

The Shepherd found me in the deep ravines, broken and lost. He rescued me, and restored me. He is teaching me to climb these high hills in search of the rising sun.

Soul, return to the mountains.
Repent with tears, and years.
Repent in thanks and praise, and worship-giving.
Repent with others, sharing and believing,
Repent in songs, and dance,
Repent in quietness, and trust,
Repent in rest.

Soul, return to the mountains with joy, much joy.

My Watery Grave

Hans lowered me into my watery grave today.
I proclaimed my death. I was buried, and I was raised.
Among God's people, I declared my testimony:

It was Easter Day 1982. Among a congregation in Indonesia, my parents brought me before the Lord in baptism. I was around Yohanan's age, about five or six months-old. They offered me to the Lord in faith and according to their conviction. This was their love for me.

As I was growing up, Pa and Ma continually taught me the way of the Lord. They reminded me daily that my life belonged to God, and that Jesus is always near. They taught me to treasure the Word of God. Christ was the foundation of our home, I never doubted this. I stand here today, because of my Papa and my Mama. I am who I am because of their labor and their love.

When I was around 14, I was slowly awaken and made alive in Christ. His Spirit became real to my young mind. I realized the evil that was in my heart, and asked for his blood to wash away my sins. My sister Jean told me that for the first time in her life, I treated her like a sister -- I was actually nice to her. Ouch.

On Easter Day 1995, I underwent confirmation and began partaking the Holy Communion. I looked forward to this every month. This, too, was precious to me.

Six years ago, in 2004, after many months of studying the Scripture, I came to a different understanding of baptism. I came to believe that baptism is a believer's proclamation of repentance--a turning away from the world--toward faith and obedience to Christ. In baptism, the believer identifies with Christ in his death, burial, and resurrection. Thus, immersion, the dipping of the entire body in water, is our public proclamation of Jesus' death, burial, and resurrection.

What immediately follows is this: I realized that I have not been baptized. I was not a believer during my infant baptism.

That was six years ago.

Accepting the truth that I was not baptized was most difficult, most painful for me. If I indeed believe that I have not been baptized, then I should, right? Because God commands it in his Word. But for a long, long time, I could not bring myself to do this.

Surely, the Lord would understand how difficult this is for me. Surely, he would make an exception for this disobedience. So I brushed the thought aside; I hid it under the carpet, hoping that no one would ask, no one would notice.

This act of my parents, bringing me before the Lord in baptism left a deep impression, a lasting mark on me. It was a sign of God's faithfulness and my salvation. It was my parents gift to me; it signified their promise to bring me up in the way of the Lord. These things were precious to me and I did not want to let them go. These things were more dear to me than my immediate obedience.

I felt like a man who was given a gem. It was blue and it was gleaming. He thought was a sapphire. He placed it in his treasure chest, loved it, and admired it for many years. Years later, he finds out that it was not sapphire after all.

When someone first proposed that the Earth was not flat and we were not the center of the universe, I am like the people who refused reason and rejected all evidence.

Admitting that I have been wrong was hard; changing was even harder.

During this Christmas season, I think of Mary and Joseph, Peter and John, and the first disciples, even the Pharisees and other religious leaders of Jesus' day. Each had their own conception of a Messiah -- how he would look like, the way their savior would come, how their King would deliver them. No one imagined God as a helpless baby among sheep and goats. No, not a God-man crucified among criminals.

To have faith was to first admit that they were wrong, that they did not have the right understanding; and to believe the words of Christ, that he was indeed God in human flesh.

The Lord is kind and patient. He is a merciful God. He is gentle in the discipline of his children. So very gentle.

I was wrong. So the gem was not sapphire. And that's OK, because the light it reflects is still true and still real. It is still blue, gleaming and unchanged. The Earth was neither flat nor were we at center of the universe. And that's OK, because the sun rises every morning, and the God who made the stars is unchanging.

What my parents gave me was not baptism, but this does not change their gift to me -- the knowledge of the one true God, and he is real.

He remains the same -- every Easter, every Christmas.
My life has never been my own, because He has always been my Creator.
I now belong to Christ. I now bear the mark of his death, burial, and resurrection.

While I watch him sleep

One of my favorite things about night time is Emeth's sleeping face. Those cheeks regularly inspire Hans to tip his entire body over the crib like a seesaw. With his feet high in the air, he kisses his son.

Before Emeth invaded our lives, I used to think the phrase "forgive and forget" was a little, um,... optimistic? Even now, when I ask for forgiveness for certain repeated sins, my heart wavers. Cold doubts about the sincerity of my own repentance, not to mention God's ability to accept this feeble apology, oppress me as I know I am likely to fall again.

Since his coming, I discovered a strange and wonderful grace. While I watch my child sleep, I have a hard time recalling the difficulties of the day. How many times I reprimanded him and why, and the messes he created -- they seem so far away I can barely hold them in my thought. The fact is, I don't want to remember. He has repented, kissed me, and said sorry. Each morning brings such sweet reunion as I am reminded of how much I love his smile.

If the Lord grants human parents this capacity to forgive, how much more should we trust in his promise cleanse us from our filth. He removes our sins far, far away -- as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:8-14). He is faithful to forgive.

It is our foolish hearts that continue to hold on to these sins, or as my professor says, keep them as pets. Once in a while, we take them out of our pockets and admire them, caress them, feed them. One day, we shall find monsters, capable to consume and kill.

Flee, O heart, from evil affections! Your Lord and Father, the Merciful and Compassionate, has removed your sins from you. Believe this and live, far away from all unrighteousness.

On the Sweetness of Repentance

Hans and I listened to a sermon on Charles Simeon as we made our way to church this morning. It reminded us of the refuge that is God's gift of repentance.

Repentance is in every view so desirable, so necessary, so suited to honor God, that I seek that above all. The tender heart, the broken and contrite spirit, are to me far above all the joys that I could ever hope for in this vale of tears. I long to be in my proper place, my hand on my mouth, and my mouth in the dust... I feel this to be safe ground. Here I cannot err... I am sure that whatever God may despise... He will not despise the broken and contrite heart. -Charles Simeon