"Do please, dear friends, ask that we may exchange the eagerness of the flesh for the earnestness of the Spirit."

Oh, would that the Lord would harness me. I am filled to bursting with zeal and passion, and it is a dangerous thing. It is so painful to look around and see such idolatry, such hideous hypocrisy, such sadness and hopelessness! It is painful to see people enslaved and unaware. It is painful to see so clearly, to see the brightness of His light contrasted with the depths of the darkness surrounding it. I'm not sure why it is so hard for me to face it with a patient calm and steadfast confidence, but I see clearly that those things are definitely not in my nature. I am thanking my Father for the example of my older sister Amy Carmichael. She walked this path long before me, and she understood:

"It makes you feel as if you couldn't sit still. You must do something, try to do something, anything! ...Oh, to get into that stronger, calmer current, out of the feverishness of human haste. Do please, dear friends, ask that we may exchange the eagerness of the flesh for the earnestness of the Spirit and so move in the force of that Holy Wind that we shall be carried along by His great calm."

Oh, Amy. That is my prayer! Oh, Father, that is my prayer! It is my confession.

I love this story from A Chance to Die:

"One evening when the full responsibility of the compound rested on Amy, she had what amounted to a vision. The tamarind trees around the bungalow were olive trees, and under them a man knelt alone. She knew it was the Lord, praying there in the garden for the children. So the burden was His, not hers. She need not ask Him to share it with her. He was asking her to share it with Him, to search with Him for the lost lambs. 'Who could have done anything but go into the garden and kneel down beside Him under the olive trees?'" (p. 181)

When I read this earlier this afternoon, I didn't realize what a big impression it would make on me tonight. This is not my burden. It belongs to the Lord.

"And the servant of the Lord must not strive, but be gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient; in meekness instructing those that oppose themselves- if God, peradventure, might grant them repentance unto the acknowledging of the truth."
Paul reminds Timothy who is really responsible for the work. What a tremendous burden lifted, what weight turned to what cheerful service!
This verse is hidden in my heart- now may its truth change me! "And the servant of the Lord must not strive...."

What a tender Shepherd. What a gentle, meek Savior. Oh for the day when that tenderness and meekness will be evident in me!