Uncloistered

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  “She gazed ahead through a long reach of future days strung together like pearls in a rosary, every one like the others, and all smooth and flawless and innocent, and her heart went up in thankfulness. Outside was the fervid summer afternoon; the air was filled with the sounds of the busy harvest of men and birds and bees; there were halloos, metallic clatterings, sweet calls, and long hummings. Louisa sat, prayerfully numbering her days, like an uncloistered nun.” A New England Nun By Mary E. Wilkins Freeman (1852–1930)

thinking about: Isaiah 53:4-6

Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried; Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed. All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.”

Spurgeon was right . . . we are just too busy. We would really like to spend time thinking about it, perhaps weeping over it, but business calls, duty demands, a promise we made to someone somewhere must be fulfilled—just can’t think about it NOW. We’ll come back to it later, maybe tonight. If not then, then later for certain or perhaps another day.

“Believer in Jesus,” Spurgeon writes, “can you gaze upon Him without tears, as He stands before you the mirror of agonizing love?”

Spurgeon even tells himself, “My soul, stand here and weep over His poor stricken body.”

Yes. Stand here and gaze. Sit there and weep.

I won’t write any more so you don’t read any more. So we can go back and gaze . . .

and weep.

There is time.

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