Rose from Brier
Amy Carmichael was an invalid the last twenty years of her missionary life. She wrote Rose from Brier – a collection of thoughts and lessons from one sufferer to another. She understood suffering – it was her lot in life for over twenty years.
I have been reading this book and sharing some of the wonderful poetry and thoughts with Louise as she continues her fight with cancer. Maybe these words will bless and encourage others who are suffering.
My grace is sufficient
From chapter 3 in the book:
“Hardly a life that goes deep but has tragedy somewhere within it; what would such do without Job? And who could spare from his soul’s hidden history the great words spoken to St. Paul, My grace is sufficient for thee, for My strength is made perfect in weakness? Such words lead straight to a land where there is gold, and the gold of that land is good.
I shall come forth as gold
Gold – the word recalls Job’s affirmation, When He hath tried me I shall come forth as gold; and St. Peter’s The trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire; and the quiet word in Malachi, He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver. I have often thanked God that the word is not gold there, but silver. Silver is of little account in the East, and we feel more like silver than gold. But He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, so who need fear?
This picture of the Refiner is straight from Eastern life. The Eastern goldsmith sits on the floor by his crucible. For me, at least, it was not hard to know why the Heavenly Refiner had to sit so long. The heart knows its own dross. Blessed be the love that never wearies, never gives up hope that even in such poor metal He may at last see the reflection of His face. “How do you know when it is purified?” we asked our village goldsmith. “When I can see my face in it,” he answered.”
Can others see Christ in us, even in our sufferings?
Maintain a constant victory
This poem is from a beginning chapter titled ‘The Rose’
Before the winds that blow do cease,
Teach me to dwell within Thy calm;
Before the pain has passed in peace,
Give me, my God, to sing a psalm.
Let me not lose the chance to prove
The fullness of enabling love.
O Love of God, do this for me:
Maintain a constant victory.
Before I leave the desert land
For meadows of immortal flowers,
Lead me where streams at Thy command
Flow by the borders of the hours,
That when the thirsty come, I may
Show them the fountains in the way.
O Love of God, do this for me: Maintain a constant victory.
crucible picture credit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Melting_crucible.jpg