Moon and Olive Tree Dear Church Family,

When a close friend -- himself bereaved of a young child many years ago -- heard of Miles Mindrebo’s tragic passing, he sent me a couple of lines of the following poem by Amy Carmichael.  As a missionary for 55 years among the poor in India, Amy Carmichael started orphanages, and hospitals, and rescued hundreds of girls from a life of prostitution. Following a fall, she endured much physical pain, and spent her last 20 years as a bed-ridden invalid often writing about meeting Jesus in the midst of trials. She was no stranger to suffering.

The final passage in Romans 8 assures us of the permanence of God’s love despite our circumstances. Verse 32 is critical: “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” In her powerful poem, Amy Carmichael invites us to prayerfully contemplate looking at all of life through the lens of the cross.

May you have eyes of faith to see your suffering in light of the cross. Truly, there is “No path of pain but there we meet our Lord!” Look then through the open windows upon highest heaven to glimpse the hope of the resurrection in our risen Lord. Be assured that God’s presence is with you in all your struggles and brokenness. Great is His love!

God bless you,
David White

CALVARY'S ELUCIDATION ~ Amy Carmichael (1867-1951)

Yet listen now,
Oh, listen with the wondering olive trees,
And the white moon that looked between the leaves,
And gentle earth that shuddered as she felt
Great drops of blood. All torturing questions find
Answer beneath those old grey olive trees.
There, only there, can we take heart to hope
For all lost lambs-aye, even for ravening wolves.
Oh, there are things done in the world today
Would root up faith, but for Gethsemane.

For Calvary interprets human life:
No path of pain but there we meet our Lord;
And all the strain, the terror and the strife
Die down like waves before His peaceful word.
And nowhere but beside the awful Cross,
And where the olives grow along the hill,
Can we accept the unexplained, the loss,
The crushing agony, and hold us still.
And nowhere is that clearer vision given
Which pierces a bewildering providence,
And opens windows upon highest heaven,
But where we see Suffering Omnipotence.

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