Life can be hard and disappointing, but the pain is worth it all when those disappointments lead you to Christ. Tune in all week to hear Joni share some of her favorite poetry.
A poet’s work is to keep the world from going to sleep.
Hi, I’m Joni Eareckson Tada, and although that quote is not original to me, I think it’s true. There’s something about reading a good poem that wakes up your soul and gets you thinking, “Yeah, I know that feeling; I know what that’s like; but I didn’t think anybody else understood me!” Friend, that’s what a good poem should do. And all this week I’ve been sharing a few – just a few – of my favorite poems.
Not long ago, a friend gave me a book called Grace in Winter; it’s a collection of poems written by Faith Cook. The inspiration for her poems was letters by Samuel Rutherford, the Puritan who pastored a small church in Scotland back in the 1600s. Like me, Faith Cook has been long blessed by Rutherford’s writings. Not everyone resonates with Rutherford; mostly, it’s followers of Jesus who usually experience a great deal of loss and grief. And what can I say? It’s why I was drawn to him. The old Puritan once wrote: “Humility is a strange flower; it grows best in winter weather, and under storms of affliction.” Well, isn’t that the truth? And when I read Faith Cook’s collection of poems, I was surprised, for they have the cadence and depth of the Puritans themselves. Her poems are not glum; they are, I think, realistic. Life is not a bed of roses; disappointment and sorrow can feel like constant companions. But, oh, when those disappointments lead us to Christ, right? That’s when the pain is worth it all. And so, I earmarked a few poems by Faith Cook that resonated, like this one I think will touch your heart. Faith writes this; she says…
From tender years your way has been
Through flood and furnace cast
The patient form of Christ to stamp
Upon your soul at last.
A thorny hedge of daily grief
Is set across your way:
Of weakness, loss, uncertainty,
Or fear’s oppressive sway.
What matters it if God should weave
The hedge more thickly yet,
Lest you look back on wayward years
With lingering vain regret.
A little child is lost to you,
(How short her hour-glass here!)
Yet all she lacked of time is gained
In heaven’s unbroken year.
And can a child be lost indeed
Whom Christ has sought and found?
Though poorer here, with lasting wealth
Your heaven shall abound.
This forest God has sold to death
So build not here your nest,
For every tree shall be hewn down
Where you might seek to rest.
The grains of sand in time’s short glass
Are less than yesterday,
Its ever-posting span of hours
Refuses long to stay.
As watchmen wait and long for dawn,
And gaze with weary eyes,
So watch till Christ’s fair morning breaks
[Upon] the eastern skies.
I love those lines. I mean, what does it matter if God should make the hedge around you thorny and thick? God knows what he’s doing, and so we watch until the Daystar rises and sorrow and sighing will be no more. Oh, that reminds me so much of that portion of Scripture in Isaiah, when the anointed of the Lord shout for joy and gladness. The eyes of the blind will be opened, and the lame shall leap like deer, and we shall enter Zion with singing. Everlasting joy will crown our heads, everlasting joy will overtake us. Woo! I can’t wait for that day, and it’s coming! Soon the Daystar will dawn, and sorrow and sighing will be no more. Hey, I’ve posted a link at joniradio.org so you can download this poem and share it with someone who’s going through a tough time of loss. Encourage them to watch and wait for that glorious Day when all sorrow will vanish, and Christ’s bright morning will wipe away every tear.
© Joni and Friends