Come Down, Lord!

  A few months ago I was doing some genealogical work, and it's got me thinking a lot about the Quakers because, for many generations, my ancestors were Quakers. But there were also Methodists and Baptists in our background. And, of course, they had some rather significant differences, and I expect these differences would seem particularly accentuated when viewed from the vantage point of a nominal adherent. Seeing only the outward realities, a nominal Baptist might have very little in common with a nominal Quaker. But among the born again there is something foundationally in common.  It isn’t only that we share an emphasis on the person and work of Jesus Christ. It's deeper, and it's experiential. We may not agree on particular customs or doctrines, but what we have in common is so great it eclipses all the differences. And what we share in common, of course, is this new birth. What has happened to the born again Quaker has also happened to the born again Methodist and ...

In April of 1993 my grandmother was reflecting on her cancer operation from a year before. She noted that all reports were good, and then she wrote, “I don’t know about tomorrow, I just live from day to day… but I know who holds tomorrow. And I know He holds my hand.” * The next month she passed away. Her death was unexpected and took all of us by surprise. But it wasn’t a surprise to God. This had been the plan all along. And when His work in her was complete and her race finished, He—who had always had her firmly by the hand—gently ushered her into glory. And there she finally grasped what she had previously believed: that death is gain (Philippians 1:21). Faith gave way to sight, and she found herself then—as now—more alive than ever. Over the last few days I’ve been thinking about the words of that old hymn. None of us knows about tomorrow. But we do know Who holds it. We know what He is like. We know He is good and wise and kind. More than that, we know He is love . We know what...

  The other night I was asked by someone—whom I will call Martha—if I really believe that God works all things for good. I said I did. To which she responded, “But I don’t understand how your condition can be for good.” Martha’s not alone. It isn’t just my specific condition. There are a host of possibilities that can seem, at first glance, utterly pointless. Far from doing good, they seem to work for evil. And yet the Bible says, “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). It isn’t “many” things, or even “most” things. It’s all things. For the called—for those who love God—all things work together for good. That is God’s promise. For some, this presents a serious philosophical problem. They don’t understand how to reconcile God’s working all things for good with human freedom and even demonic activity. To which I answer, “But with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26). I do n...

  It hasn’t been long since I last wrote, but I am using a transport chair more and find myself able to do less. I don’t know if this is just a bad flare that will pass or something more. What’s difficult about this condition is that we don’t know much about the prognosis. Every flare has the potential to permanently alter my baseline, which already is a long way from what it was six months ago. Even so, I have been listening to worship music and reflecting on how blessed I am to have cause to sing. As the old hymn puts it: Some through the waters, some through the flood, Some through the fire, but all through the blood; Some through great sorrow, But God gives a song In the night season and all the day long. Our circumstances may differ, but God gives a song in the midst of it all. And what is our song? It is praise, thanks, and love to our Redeemer! He is the constant. And what a constant! None so lovely. None so good. He alone is Wonderful . What thrills my heart most is this: ...

A while back I wrote about some recent medical issues. At the time I was very positive. I believe that was entirely owing to God’s grace. He drew near and seemed to shed His love abroad in my heart. Though I had times of anxiety, my overwhelming experience was joy. But in recent months it’s been more difficult. In November I learned that I likely have a rare metabolic myopathy. If so, there is no cure. What makes it particularly challenging is that because my condition is so rare, we still don’t know where this is going. When I last wrote I had what I thought were significant limitations. But in the months that have followed I have experienced a fairly significant decline. When I am not in a flare I can still walk short distances. Often I use a cane and sometimes a walker.  And then two nights ago I needed a transport chair to get to the washroom. Even when I am not in a flare, going around the block or shopping are out of the question. For longer trips like those I need a wheel...

All of my readers know what it is to suffer. We all pass through difficult seasons—physical, emotional, or spiritual, and sometimes all three at once. When I compare my own recent trial to the tragic losses others have faced, I hardly dare to call it a trial at all. Still, something has taken place in this season that feels worth sharing. In March 2025, I was hospitalized with severe rhabdomyolysis (rhabdo)—a condition in which muscle tissue rapidly breaks down, releasing harmful proteins into the bloodstream. My creatine kinase (CK) levels, which indicate muscle damage, were quite high—over 60,000, far beyond the normal range. In the months since, I’ve had two more episodes and a series of related symptoms that have led to repeated hospital visits. I’ve been told that it isn’t a matter of if but when another episode will occur. I am now quite limited in what I can safely do; and yet something wonderful and unexpected has happened. I have found myself overawed by the sense of God’s l...

  In difficult seasons the night can be particularly hard.  In I Shall Not Die But Live Douglas Taylor wrote the following: “In the Diary of Kenneth MacRae (Banner of Truth, 1980), Mr MacRae is described, during his last illness, as dreading the night, with its sleeplessness and loneliness.”  Taylor who was also in his last illness writes, “I can very much identify with this.  During sleepless periods lately, I have dreaded the night too.”  This is almost certainly why the Bible speaks of the night seasons .  Night seasons are hard seasons of trial, which are often accompanied by temptations to fear and despair.  Night seasons are symbolic of times of mourning.  They represent times of suffering and grief and emotional or spiritual darkness.  A dark trial even if experienced over the course of days and weeks is a night season.   Job knew something of these hard nights.  He said, “So am I made to possess months of vanity, and ...