The Hound of Heaven

“I fled Him, down the nights and down the days,

I fled Him, down the arches of the years;

I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways

Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears

I hid from Him, and under running laughter.

Up vistaed hopes I sped

And shot, precipitated

Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears

From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.

But with unhurrying chase

And unperturbed pace,

Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,

They beat – and a Voice beat

More instant than the Feet –

‘All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.’

This is the beginning of The Hound of Heaven, a famous poem written by Francis Thompson.  The Hound of Heaven talks of God’s persistent pursuit of people, His continual presence as they try to fill their needs and desires with other things (only to find emptiness), and the sound of His footsteps as He patiently follows behind. 

Thompson knew about the emptiness of pleasure-seeking.  He wrote this poem while living as a match-selling homeless man on the streets of London.  The address that he gave magazine editors to whom he sent his poems was the location of chemist’s shop where Thompson fed his opium addiction.* 

I read this poem in full this week – and then listened to Richard Burton read it.  (Because somehow British accents make it that much better :)).  And I was struck by a few lines especially.

I pleaded, outlaw-wise,

By many a hearted casement, curtained red,

Trellised with intertwining charities;

(For, though I knew His love Who followed,

Yet was I sore adread,

Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside.)

Do I really think that if I give all to Jesus, that I come out with less in the end? 

But that’s what the world tells me.

And Thompson goes on to talk of various pleasures, repeatedly coming back to the lines:

“Still with unhurrying chase,

And unperturbed pace,

Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,

Came on the following Feet,

And a Voice above their beat -
‘Naught shelters thee, who will not shelter Me….’

“Naught contents thee, who contents not Me….’

Thompson looks around at his life at one point and says,

I stand amidst the dust o’ the mounded years –

My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap…

And still the Hound of Heaven pursues.  And know what I LOVE about this poem?  In it, Thompson doesn’t describe God as someone who will sugarcoat our condition.  (Don’t you hate it when people pretend things aren’t as bad as they really are?  Or when they tell us we’re something we know we aren’t?)

And although God sees that we are the “dingiest clot” of clay…and truly unworthy of love…He continues to pursue us.  Isn’t that BEAUTIFUL? 

'Strange, piteous, futile thing!

Wherefore should any set Thee love apart?

Seeing none, but I makes much of naught’ (He said),

‘And human love needs human meriting;

How has thou merited –

Of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot?

Alack, thou knowest not

How little worthy of any love thou art!

Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,

Save Me, save only Me?

All which I took from thee I did but take,

Not for thy harms,

But just that thou might’st seek it in my arms.

All which thy child’s mistake

Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home.

Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’

That, my friends, is a Hand worth taking.

But the poem doesn’t end there.  Thompson then says this:

Halts by me that foot fall:

Is my gloom, after all,

Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?

‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,

I am He Whom thou seekest!’

I realized this week that I seek many things in life.  Success in completing my master’s thesis (which took up most of my time this week :)).  Love from family and friends.  Recognition from peers.  Joy.  Happiness.  Comfort.  Safety.

And yet…when I look for the good things in life…I end up at the feet of a Person. 

Jesus.

Who promises more and better things from His hand than I could ever find on my own.  (Even if they don’t look like it at the time.)

The Christmas season is right around the corner.  Lest we think that the Hound of Heaven is a poem and not a description of a reality, may we not forget that God took his pursuit of us all the way to a manger.  And then to a cross.

And only in giving up what may seem to be better in this life to follow the Savior will we find the fullest of lives.

May we never flee or hide from Him who offers such fullness.

* From Jeremiah, D. (2006). Captured by grace: No one is beyond the reach of a loving God.  Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson. p. 108-109

Held

I’ve been captivated by this word today:  “Held”.

 

It’s the past participle and past tense of the world hold, for which there are many definitions.  These two stuck out to me on dictionary.com:

1. to bear, sustain or support, as with the hands or arms
2. to remain attached, faithful, or steadfast

There are times when I just want to be held.  Do you know what I mean?

When you are tired and worn...there is comfort in being held by someone who is stronger than you.   There is comfort in being held by someone who loves you.

And as is the case in many things, the physical longing is a hint of a deeper spiritual longing – which can be most wholly fulfilled in God.   

“Let the beloved of the LORD rest secure in Him, for He shields him all day long, and the one the LORD loves rests between His shoulders.” 

Deuteronomy 33:12

“Even to your old age and gray hairs, I am He, I am He who will sustain you.  I have made you and I will carry you:  I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”

 Isaiah 46:4

We can rest in God's arms.  He carries us.  He took our place.  His love is scandalous, isn’t it?  Why should a loving God reach out with such love to people like us?

So, when we find a love like that – may we remain attached, faithful, and steadfast.

It's the light that pierces through you
To the darkest hidden place
It knows your deepest secrets
But it never looks away
It's the gentle hand that pulls you
From the judgment of the crowd
When you stand before them guilty
And you got no way out

Some may call it foolish and impossible
But for every heart it rescues, it's a miracle
It's nothing less than scandalous
This love that took our place
Just call it what it is, call it grace
Call it grace

It's the breath that's breathing new life
Into what we thought was dead
It's the favor that takes orphans
Placing crowns upon their heads
It's the hope for our tomorrows
The rock on which we stand
It's a strong and mighty fortress
Even Hell can't stand against

Some may call it foolish and impossible
But for every heart it rescues, it's a miracle
It's nothing less than scandalous
This love that took our place
Just call it what it is, call it grace
Call it grace
Call it grace

- Unspoken, “Call It Grace”

This Is My Father's World

“This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears

All nature sings and ‘round me rings, the music of the spheres.

This is my Father’s world, I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas

His hand the wonders wrought.”

On my way to church this morning, I heard Jadon Lavik’s version of “This is My Father’s World”.  The words are just beautiful.  Maltbie Babcock wrote those words in the late 1800’s, but the hymn wasn’t published until after Maltbie’s death in 1901.   

Maltbie pastored a church in Lockport, New York; in Baltimore, Maryland; and in New York City.  When he lived in Lockport, which is near Niagara Falls, he often went running or hiking in the beautiful countryside.  He told his secretary there, “I’m going to see my Father’s world.”

We can learn so much from nature, can’t we?

1. God’s works (earth, sky, sea) praise His name.  They show a small glimpse His beauty.
2. It’s often a great reminder of how small we are.  God owns it all!  And He keeps it running – He needs nothing from us.

“I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are mine.  If I were hungry, I would not tell you, for the world is mine and all that is in it.”  Psalm 50:11-12

And YET:  He does tell us things.  He speaks to us through His Word.  He shows us that He loves us.  But as beautiful as nature is, God’s beauty & love are best seen in Jesus.    

Maltbie understood that.  He recognized that nature was place to be in awe…and to let that awe take him to the throne of grace. 

Have you ever heard the rest of the lines of “This Is My Father’s World”?  I looked them up:

This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done:
Jesus Who died shall be satisfied,
And earth and Heav’n be one.

This is my Father’s world, dreaming, I see His face.
I ope my eyes, and in glad surprise cry, “The Lord is in this place.”
This is my Father’s world, from the shining courts above,
The Beloved One, His Only Son,
Came—a pledge of deathless love.

This is my Father’s world, should my heart be ever sad?
The lord is King—let the heavens ring. God reigns—let the earth be glad.
This is my Father’s world. Now closer to Heaven bound,
For dear to God is the earth Christ trod.
No place but is holy ground.

This is my Father’s world. I walk a desert lone.
In a bush ablaze to my wondering gaze God makes His glory known.
This is my Father’s world, a wanderer I may roam
Whate’er my lot, it matters not,
My heart is still at home.

The beauty of nature often awakens our hearts to something bigger than ourselves.  Maltbie once said, “Life is what we are alive to.”

Oh, to be excited – to be made “alive” – by the person of Jesus Christ.  Is He what most awakens my heart?  Whatever my lot, I pray my heart will still be at home in Jesus.

My “lot” is pretty easy right now.  I sit in my house in North Carolina in safety.  Meanwhile, my brothers and sisters around the globe are dying for their faith as I type this.  I don’t know why I am sitting in safety while others are in danger. 

Although I don’t have all the answers, this I do know:  God is still on His throne.  The battle is not done.  Jesus who died will be satisfied. 

And sometimes, the cure for a hurting heart (or calloused heart) is to just go outside and sit under the stars.  Or hear the carols of the birds. Or see the beauty of the mountains.  Or experience the open expanse of the desert.

For this is My Father’s world.  And I can rest me in that thought.