Probably one of the words dearest to me that the English language offers is the word “home.” Throughout the years, home has been to me a place of rest, of peace, of courage and beauty…a Rivendell for weary hearts. As Tolkien so wonderfully wrote about Rivendell, “Merely to be there was a cure for weariness, fear, and sadness.” That’s been what home has been to me…a reminder to this elect exile of belonging, a reminder and echo of the Home yet to come.
I arrived home a few weeks ago hurting and weary and left with much the same griefs I had packed with me. But what I experienced in the middle was hope. The Lord is a God of refreshment to His people. The Lord is God of new mercies every morning. And I met with Him again in that Rivendell of a home. Circumstances haven’t changed…there is still a valley to walk through that looms dark and fearful, and I tremble and weep in my most vulnerable moments. But I recognise again the touch of my Master’s hand on my shoulder and know I am not alone.
During the past few months I have been walking through a rough season with many griefs. Many of you have read between the lines of my letters and have seen the struggle, and many of you have asked if I am doing okay. Often I’m not sure how to answer because there are things too dear to write about. But what I can offer to you are the moments of gratitude, the visions of light, the reminders of truth along this valley road. And the prayer that you too may know the nearness of our dear Lord.
So as I return this week to the work here in Merkinch and as we pray together for the Lord’s will to be done, I would ask that you pray that I simply might know and treasure Jesus more. And that I might have my eyes open wide with hope to see the Church as He sees it…His beloved bride.
When I was a small child I used to hear the words, “I will build my church and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it,” and my overactive imagination used to picture iron-barred gates walking around trying to “prevail” (definition unknown) on church pews full of people. But I had it all backwards. The gates are standing still. It is the Lord who is doing the action. He is building His Church, stronger than a stone fortress and more beautiful than a sunrise. And even the gates of evil and darkness cannot stand in His way. He will have His bride; He loves her. And nothing can ever change or cool that love. He will not stop until every child of His is Home. There’s that word again…Home. That beautiful word that glows in our redeemed hearts and gives us the courage to press on through much hard fighting. For our citizenship is in heaven. And from it we await our Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.
So – brother, sister – keep going. Not in your strength, but in the strength of the One who will never leave or forsake us. Those who sow in tears will reap with shouts of joy, and, oh, I believe the joy will be full to overflowing.
May the weekly letters yet to come be little offerings of gratefulness as we journey these shadowlands and pray for the Lord to build His Church in the schemes of Scotland. And may you pray for us with earnestness and understanding, knowing that missionaries are real people, broken people, aching people, who simply love our precious Lord, long for Him to be praised in all the nations, long for Him to return…who long to see Him face to face…who long for Home.
“Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father, who loved us and gave us eternal comfort and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts and establish them in every good work and word.” 2 Thessalonians 2:16-17
Jesus makes the labour sweet,
Claire
Claire in Scotland 