Puritan Prayers - The Valley of Vision, The Word

The Father’s Care

I have recently been struck by the extent of the care my Father has for me. He loved me long before my birth, and will love me unto death and beyond. This love is demonstrated in the death of Christ, and His affection continues and will never cease to amaze me. He is so long-suffering; He endures my betrayal and treason, welcoming me home with open arms, even though I sin against Him time and time again.  A passage that has recently impacted me: Isaiah 46: 3, 4 “Listen to Me, O house of Jacob, all the remnant of the house of Israel, who have been borne by me from before your birth, carried from the womb; even to your old age I am He, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save.” 

Love Lustres At Calvary

My Father,

Enlarge my heart, warm my affections, open my lips, 

supply words that proclaim, ‘Love lustres at Calvary.’

There grace removes my burdens and heaps them on thy Son, made a transgressor, a curse, and sin for me;

There the sword of the justice smote the man, thy fellow;

There thy infinite attributes were magnified, and infinite atonement was made;

There infinite punishment was due, and infinite punishment was endured.

Christ was all anguish that I might be all joy, cast off that I might be brought in, trodden down as an enemy

that I might be welcomed as a friend, surrendered to hell’s worst that I might attain heaven’s best,

stripped that I might be clothed, wounded that I might be healed, athirst that I might drink,

tormented that I might be comforted, made a shame that I might inherit glory, entered darkness that I might have eternal light.

My Saviour wept that all tears might be wiped from my eyes,

groaned that I might have an endless song,

endured all pain that I might have unfading health,

bore a thorny crown that I might have a glory-diadem,

bowed His head that I might uplift mine,

experienced reproach that I might receive welcome,

closed His eyes in death that I might gaze on unclouded brightness,

expired that I might live forever.

O Father, who spared not thine only Son that thou mightest spare me,

All this transfer thy love designed and accomplished;

Help me to adore thee by lips and life.

O that my every breath might be ecstatic praise, my every step buoyant with delight, as I see my enemies crushed,

Satan baffled, defeated, destroyed, sin buried in the ocean of reconciling blood, hell’s gates closed, heaven’s portal open. 

Go forth, O conquering God, and show me the cross, mighty to subdue, comfort, and save.

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Reflect On The Wonder Of The Cross

I haven’t posted anything in a long time, and have so much I could say. Unfortunately, I don’t have very much time, so I can’t quite update you all on what has occupied my summer yet, but I can give some quick encouragement. The easiest way to do this: quote someone who is more spiritually mature than I. Ironically, this man, C.J. Mahaney, also happens to be quoting others. I hope you find this as edifying as I did.

“Martin Lloyd-Jones wrote the following about the surest way to pursue humility:

There is only one thing I know of that crushes me to the ground and humiliates me to the dust, and that is to look at the Son of God, and especially contemplate the cross. 

When I survey the wondrous cross 

On which the Prince of Glory died,

My richest gain I count but loss

And pour contempt on all my pride

Nothing else can do it. When I see that I am a sinner… that nothing but the Son of God on the cross can save me, I’m humbled to the dust… Nothing but the cross can give us this spirit of humility.

“John Stott helps us understand why the cross has this powerful effect:

Every time we look at the cross Christ seems to be saying to us, ‘I am here because of you. It is your sin I am bearing, your curse I am suffering, your debt I am paying your death I am dying.’ Nothing in history or in the universe cuts us down to size like the cross. All of us have inflated views of ourselves, especially in self-righteousness, until we have visited a place called Calvary. It is there, at the foot of the cross, that we shrink to our true size.

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