I record so many of my salt-encrusted moments here that I often forget how important it is to record the sweet ones as well. But this morning I had a sweet moment that was rich enough to stay with me all day, rich enough to still be with me now and to inspire me to write about it.
I don’t think it’s an accident that the sweetest of my moments often occur during worship. This post has some lovely thoughts on worship, and one in particular which I have thought about often since I read it, the importance of speaking true words. This sentence captures the heart of the thought: “Not only is there a shortage of truth in the world, so that every addition of truth is precious, but we men so often speak untruth that it is worthwhile for us to speak clear and certain truth from time to time just to train our tongues to it.”
This morning the entrance hymn was “Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven.” I have always loved it, and this morning I loved it even more because of this line: “Praise him still the same as ever, slow to chide, and swift to bless.”
Speaking true words, indeed.
As I have been waiting and hoping for these past two-and-a-half years, I haven’t exactly felt that my blessings were coming swiftly. Quite the opposite, in fact. And many times I’m sure I would have cringed at the line above. But this morning, this morning! as those words left my lips I could taste the sweet truth in them.
Because the truth, of course, is that every blessing that comes to us comes more swiftly than we deserve it. Even if I never have children in this lifetime, I can still have the chance to receive in eternity that fulfillment which is what I am really seeking, and that is a blessing I could never deserve on my own, not in a thousand lifetimes.
Meanwhile, the past years have felt long in the living, but as I stand here now they feel short, swift, quick. The growing I have done in them seems more than enough atonement for the pain they have brought. Just now, in this sweet moment, I know that blessings do come swiftly, that yokes are easy, that burdens are light.
Does that mean I think it’s wrong to ever feel otherwise? Of course not. “Blessed are those who mourn,” after all. I believe with all of my heart that these trials are meant to hurt me, must hurt me, or else they have served no purpose.
But at the same time, I truly believe there is a bigger, richer truth than we can possibly imagine, a truth in which I will see that my trials have really been blessings, a truth in which I shall mourn nothing. That truth is not here now, but in life’s sweet moments I get a glimpse of it, and it is staggering.
Slow to chide and swift to bless He is, after all.