Some people have a wonderfully simple way of wording things. Today’s allegory is inspired by a quote attributed to Corrie ten Boom. To bring the quote to life, I have woven a story. At the end, I will share the quote which I’m sure will be as inspirational to you as it has been to me.

Standing on the station platform, I studied the incoming train. I glanced at the ticket in my hand. Yes, this was the train I needed to get to the Bible school.

Once the departing passengers cleared, I climbed aboard and located an empty seat in the half-full train car.

Parking my suitcase by my feet, I pulled my backpack onto my lap.

A few minutes later, the train gave a lurch and proceeded on its way.

I glanced around me. No English anywhere. All the ads and station names were illegible to me. Each snippet of conversation that reached me from fellow passengers was as good as jibberish. I understood none of it.

Rather than let that worry me, I leaned back, letting my gaze roam the city streets we hurried through. They too were entirely unfamiliar. I had no way of telling whether this train was heading the right direction. Yet, the number on the outside of the train matched that on my ticket. Surely it would take me there.

I knew it would be more than an hour until I arrived, so I allowed my mind to wander as I admired the rich greens of the countryside we’d entered.

I knew a little about my destination. Around 100 students would be there, none of whom I’d met before. Classes would be in English. Our rooms and food were provided. It was near a lake.

Still, a million unknowns crowded into my mind.

I pushed the worries away. I would trust God. He’d pointed me this direction. I would follow. He would give me what I needed.

The steady rhythm of the track made my head begin to nod. I hadn’t slept well during the hours spent on the plane.

I pulled my backpack closer as my eyelids drooped.

I sat bolt upright, aware that I’d been sleeping. Something was different.

It took me a moment to realise the train had been thrown into darkness.

Looking out the window, all I could see was black.

I felt the train turn, as it wound through the darkness. Were we going in the right direction?

I bit my lip. I really did not want to get lost in this foreign country. Was I on the wrong train? Should I pull the emergency brake and jump off here?

No, I was certain this was the train I was meant to be on.

I had no idea what direction my stop was, but the train driver knew.

As I watched the beginnings of light returning to the outside world, I leaned back in my seat. I would have to trust the driver. He knew what he was doing.

So, what was that quote I mentioned at the beginning of the post? You may have heard it before.

“When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the Driver.” – Corrie ten Boom

What does this allegory mean? Picture God as the train driver or engineer.

When I became a Christian, God invited me onto a train. He set a new life before me – different from the life I was living before.

Sometimes as I travel on the train that God is driving, everything seems wonderful and happy. At other times, the train goes through a tunnel and life gets hard… very hard.

When life gets hard do I turn my back on God and jump off the train He has put me on? Or do I trust that He is still in control and knows what He is doing?

For Corrie ten Boom, a very dark tunnel came in the form of the Nazi Ravensbrück concentration camp. She watched her sister, Betsy, die and faced brutal treatment day in and day out. Yet Corrie did not abandon her faith in God. She trusted the Driver, and He carried her through.

When a dark tunnel comes in my life, may I follow Corrie ten Boom’s example. May I trust that God is still in control. He will see me through.

 

If you want to read Corrie ten Boom’s story, I highly recommend her book The Hiding Place.

 

Wandering into the kitchen, my toddler spotted the cut-up cantaloupe in a container on the table.

Excitement flooded her face.

She pointed toward it. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You want to eat some cantaloupe?” I ask.

She points into her mouth and pretends to eat. “Yum!”

“Okay, you can have some cantaloupe. Climb up on your chair and then I can give some to you.”

Her face fell and she began to whimper.

“You don’t need to cry. I will give you some, but you need to be in your chair.”

Tears appeared as her crying intensified.

I continued placing the rest of the breakfast items on the table.

Once complete, I turned my full attention to my little girl. She was still crying, clinging to her toy puppy.

I met her gaze. “Why are you crying?”

She pointed at the cantaloupe.

“You want to eat cantaloupe?”

She nodded.

I took her hand. “I want to give you cantaloupe, but you need to be in your chair for me to give it to you.”

Sniffling, she let me guide her to her chair and set her in it – though she often climbs into it all by herself.

She buckled herself in while I reached for her bib and tray.

I set her puppy aside.

She pointed at the cantaloupe again. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Can you ask nicely?”

She rubbed her chest to sign “please.”

I picked the container up. “Nice asking. You are in your seat now, so I can give you some cantaloupe.”

I put a piece on her tray.

She eagerly reached for it and took a big bite.

I grinned. “Cantaloupe is yummy.”

Later, as I went about my day, I found myself wondering if there has ever been a time when I asked God for something and His response was not “Yes” or “No”, but “You’re not ready for it.”

The Old Testament has plenty of examples of this, perhaps one of the clearest being the Israelites as they headed toward the Promised Land.

God had dramatically rescued the nation from slavery at the hands of the Egyptians. Before too long, they arrived at the border of the land God had promised to Abraham and now desired to give to Israel.

It was an abundant and prosperous land. It would have been such a blessing, but when the time came to go in and receive what God desired to bless them with, they chickened out.

God told them to go forward by faith, but they didn’t.

Their hearts were not in the right place. They were not ready to receive what God wanted to give them.

As a result, God made them wander in the wilderness for 40 years until that generation had died off.

Before I go any further, I must pause to remember that this allegory does not relate to God’s love. God’s love for me is unchanging. It does not depend on my goodness. God loves me and He will always love me no matter what I do.

It also doesn’t relate to the salvation God gives. Salvation is not based on what I can do. Salvation is based on what Jesus did on the cross. I do not deserve that salvation, but God freely gives it. My job is simply to receive it with thankfulness.

Back to my story with my daughter.

I wanted to give her cantaloupe. That was the whole reason I’d placed it on the table in the first place.

The problem was, I wanted her to be ready to receive the cantaloupe. I wanted her to be in her seat with her bib on.

My daughter wanted the cantaloupe but did not want to sit in her seat.

This had no bearing whatsoever on whether I love her or not. Rather, the thing at stake was whether she would get to eat the cantaloupe.

Being a mother who cares about my daughter’s health and happiness, I wanted her to eat the cantaloupe. I knew it would be enjoyable and good for her.

I was glad when she finally complied to sit in her seat so I could give it to her.

Does God feel this way about me sometimes? I suspect so.

Psalm 81:10-11 seems fitting to consider here.

“I am the Lord your God,
who brought you up from the land of Egypt.
Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it.
But My people did not listen to My voice;
Israel did not obey Me.” (CSB)

God wanted to bless the Israelites. He really did, but He wanted them to be ready to receive it.

Am I ready to receive what God wants to give me?

In the Old Testament, very often God’s promises had to do with physical blessings (the Promised Land, good health, national security, etc.). In the New Testament, more often God’s promises are concerning spiritual blessings. (Indeed, in the New Testament, Jesus goes so far as to warn that I will face trouble in this physical world. (John 16:33))

One spiritual blessing God offers to give me is peace – a deep heart-level peace.

Shortly before going to the cross, Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Don’t let your heart be troubled or fearful.” (John 14:27 CSB)

Two things catch my eye in this verse. First, there is something Jesus desires to give me: peace. Second, there is something I must do to be ready to receive it: not let my heart be troubled or fearful.

This is only one example of something God wants to give me, yet I must be ready to receive it.

I love the way the hymn “Trust and Obey” puts it:

“Trust and obey, for there’s no other way
to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.”

It goes on to say:

“But we never can prove
the delights of His love
until all on the altar we lay;
for the favor He shows,
for the joy He bestows,
are for them who will trust and obey.”

Have I been walking in the peace and joy of the Lord recently (not a superficial happiness, but that deep heart-level joy)? If not, maybe I need to check to make sure I have been trusting and obeying the Lord.

A lonely stroller with the title Held Back?

 

The other day, my husband and I went for a walk with our little one. The skies were clear and it was an exceptionally warm spring day.

As we approached a steep hill, we strapped our little one into her stroller.

With my husband handling the stroller, we began the descent, thankful for the well-paved path.

My husband, being much taller than I am, let the incline carry him faster and faster. I hastened to keep up.

I laughed. “You and your long legs. You can go so much faster than me.”

Slowing so I could keep up, my husband replied, “Our little one could go faster than either of us if I let her.”

I glanced down the rest of the hill. He was right. If allowed to, the stroller, with our little one in it, had the potential to gain tremendous speed. That is, until it reached the first bend in the path and toppled.

I wasn’t worried. I knew my husband and his deep desire for our daughter to have the best. I knew he would protect her from such a traumatic accident.

“I’m glad you don’t let her reach her full potential,” I replied lightly.

How ironic. Typically we want our children to reach their full potential, but here my husband was holding our daughter back and I was glad.

That got me thinking. Sometimes I feel stuck – like I’m chomping at the bit – unable to reach my full potential.

Could it be that God, my Father, is the one holding me back? Could His plans be different than mine?

The Bible says:

“As the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are My ways higher than your ways

and My thoughts than your thoughts.”

(Isaiah 55:9 NIV)

Do I really believe God knows better than me?

Sometimes I feel stifled in my growth and in what I am able to do. If I were a full-time writer, just think how many books I could produce! However, most of my time is spent caring for my family and keeping house. These are very good things, and I typically enjoy them. Yet they hold me back from what could be my full potential in a different set of circumstances.

Don’t get me wrong. There is a time to change things up. A season to put some things aside so I can focus more on what God would have me pursue at that time.

There is also a time to embrace where God has put me now and learn to thrive in it.  Like a plant flourishing where it is planted, not pining to be transplanted or let loose.

How do I respond when I feel held back from what I believe to be my full potential? Do I pout and mope? Do I dare to criticize God? Or do I take my frustration straight to God, telling Him how I feel, then trusting that He knows best? 

If He wants me to do more, He will give me what I need for it when the time is right. I am thankful God is patient with me every time I forget this.

Indeed, there may be a time when it is good for my daughter to move at tremendous speeds – such as when her daddy teaches her to drive. Such speeds are beyond her one-year-old comprehension. That day in the stroller, to go zooming off down the path would have ended badly. It was beyond her ability to handle that speed in that circumstance. Her daddy understood this so he held her back.

God understands what is beyond my ability to handle right now. His holding me back from what I believe to be my full potential is because He knows best. He knows my true potential.

But, wait. Is this a Biblical principle? I’m glad you asked. Here are some examples of people in the Bible whom, I suspect, felt God was holding them back from their full potential, or at least from the life they felt called to or desired. Let me know in the comments if you agree.

David was a shepherd boy – a nobody. One day a prophet anointed David telling him that he would be the next king. At some point after that, David became a servant of the current king, Saul. Then things turned nasty. King Saul tried to kill David. For years David was running for his life. During that time, do you think David ever felt held back from his full potential – the thing God had called him to? Yet it was more than 10 years between the time God called him and when he finally became king. (1 Samuel 16 – 2 Samuel 5)

The demon-possessed man Jesus healed in Luke 8 also comes to mind. He wanted to follow Jesus.

“The man from whom the demons had gone out begged to go with Him, but Jesus sent him away, saying, ‘Return home and tell how much God has done for you.’ So the man went away and told all over town how much Jesus had done for him.” (Luke 8:38-39 NIV) 

Finally, I think of the Apostle Paul. Something was holding him back from what he felt was his full potential. Bible commentators vary in their speculation of what that something was. Whatever it was, it felt like a weakness – a hindrance. Paul wrote about it in 2 Corinthians 12:7b-9:

“I was given a thorn in my flesh… Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” (NIV)

Today, in the midst of a culture urging me to push harder and reach bigger, may I rest in the fact that God knows what He is doing. His timing is perfect. May I thrive in this season right now.

As the well-known proverb puts it:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart,

and do not rely on your own understanding;

in all your ways know Him,

and He will make your paths straight.”

Proverbs 3:5-6 (CSB)

Have you been running too hard recently? Do you need a reminder that it is okay to prioritize in this season of your life? I recently listened to a fantastic podcast on that very topic. I encourage you to listen in:

 

My phone beeps. There is a poor air quality alert for my area.

As I sit at my desk while my baby naps, I glance outside. I cannot see the blue sky. The sun is a weird shade of yellow casting a red glow on the floor.

My eyes wander to the other side of the valley where normally I would see green trees and a myriad of colours from the buildings. Everything is grey and faded.

I turn back to my computer. I only have so much time before my baby wakes up. I’ve got to make use of the time.

I pull up the email I’m working on.

A few minutes later, I glance up. The whole sky has dimmed to an orange fog. The speck of bright light which must be the sun is pumpkin orange. I cannot see the other side of the valley. I feel heavy inside and my fight-or-flight system considers kicking in.

I catch a whiff of smoke. I typically don’t mind the smell as it reminds me of many happy times around a campfire, but when the smoke is everywhere… I frown, hoping the windows will keep most of it out.

Trying to focus, I drag my gaze back to my computer screen, but that unsettling orange glow keeps drawing my attention back to the window.

I pray for the firefighters who are working to contain the fire, then remind myself that there is nothing more I can do right now. The forest fire is miles away. I would have to drive more than 500 km (~300 miles) to get there.

Right now, I need to focus on my task.

I turn to my computer. “Okay, I’ve just got to do the next thing. What is the one thing I need to do next?”

I need to look up some numbers to include in my email.

Okay, I can do that.

Done.

My eyes wander to the window. I may as well be living on Mars. That’s how orange it looks just now.

I glance at the baby monitor on my desk. She’s still asleep. I’ve got to keep working.

“Do the next thing.”

What’s the next thing?

Find the email addresses I’m sending this email to.

Okay, I can do that.

It takes me a few moments to locate the list. I notice I need to add a few more addresses. I do that.

I glance out the window. Still orange. So weird. Nearly spooky. It makes me feel anxious.

But I’ve got to do the next thing.

What’s the next thing?

Write a subject for the email.

Okay, I can do that.

After a few attempts, I am happy with the subject line.

I reach for my phone and move to the window. I switch to my camera and take several pictures. I want to capture the feel of it, but the camera simply won’t do justice to the strength of the orange outside.

I give up. Back at my desk, I remind myself, my baby could wake up any time now. I’ve got to do the next thing.

Proofread my email.

Okay, I can do that.

I read it aloud, tweaking some words as I go. At last, I am satisfied and hit send.

Leaning back in my chair, I peer out the window. Is it just me, or is the orange beginning to fade?

Oh, look! I can see some of the buildings across the valley. Certainly not in full colour, but the dim outlines are back.

I crane my neck to locate the sun. It appears somewhat, almost, yellow-ish again.

A hint of the weight inside me lightens. Perhaps, just maybe, the blue sky will be visible again and the sun will shine its happy yellow.

It might take a few days, but I know the sky is blue and I will not give up hope that I will see that blue again.

Why share this story? Because it holds a valuable reminder for me.

Sometimes life gets smokey when something creates smoke which comes in and blocks our vision. That something may be close to home and personal, or perhaps far bigger but further away.

Much of the time, there is nothing we can do to stop that smoke until the source fire is dealt with.

At this moment, I can pray, but beyond that there is nothing I can do to stop those forest fires. I am helpless to stop the smoke from crowding into my life.

The smoke makes it hard to see and hard to breathe. I cannot see the happy blue sky and yellow sun. Everything looks grey and stinks.

Sometimes life feels like that.

What should I do then?

Pray.

Trust that God is still God.

And do the next thing.

Perhaps you have heard of Elisabeth Elliot? I learned the concept of “do the next thing” from listening to her teaching. (Here is a link to her teaching)

Elisabeth Elliot was a missionary. Not long into her time of ministry, her husband, Jim Elliot, was murdered by the very people they had been trying to reach in love.

Elisabeth was left in a foreign country with a young baby. Later she was able to befriend and minister to the very people who killed her husband.

Many years later, Elisabeth remarried only to watch her new husband get sick and die.

Elizabeth has written many books, my favourite being “Through Gates of Splendor”.

Elisabeth Elliot once wrote:

“‘Do the next thing.’ I don’t know any simpler formula for peace, for relief from stress and anxiety than that very practical, very down-to-earth word of wisdom. Do the next thing. That has gotten me through more agonies than anything else I could recommend.” ― Elisabeth Elliot, Suffering Is Never for Nothing

This sounds like a wise principle, but where do we see it in the Bible?

I’m glad you asked.

Joseph is one example of this mindset being lived out.

What did he do when his brothers sold him into slavery? Did he protest and fight against those around him? No. He did the next thing.

When he was thrown into prison unjustly, did he sit in the corner pouting? No. He did the next thing.

As a foreign slave turned prisoner turned second-in-command over the entire country, did Joseph become paralyzed by the grandness of it all? No. He did the next thing.

I like Psalm 37:34a: “Wait for the Lord and keep His way…” (NASB)

Joseph was waiting for God’s deliverance, but in the meantime, he lived according to God’s ways while he did one next thing after another.

The next time I find my life smothered in smoke, may I remain diligent to do the next thing while I wait for the smoke to clear.

 

This week I’m taking a break from sharing allegories from my own life. Instead, I’m sharing an allegory Corrie ten Boom often spoke of.

(Note that while tapestries and embroideries are different based on the methods used, I use both terms interchangeably in this post.)

Have you heard of Corrie ten Boom? If not, let me fill you in.

Corrie ten Boom was a Christian and a Dutch watchmaker. When the Nazis invaded the Netherlands, Corrie and her family became involved in helping hide the Jews.

Eventually, the Nazis caught on and arrested Corrie, her sister, Betsie, and their elderly father. Her father died 10 days later.

Corrie and Betsie were sent to Ravensbruck – a brutal concentration camp. They were forced to work hard, given little to eat, and abused. Betsie died there, but Corrie miraculously was released.

After the war, Corrie travelled the world sharing her story and her faith in God.

If you want to learn more, I highly recommend reading her biography: The Hiding Place.

Okay. Now that you know who Corrie ten Boom was and understand that she endured greater hardship than many of us can imagine, let me share an allegory she often told.

When speaking, Corrie would hold up a cloth with a jumble of dark and light threads that were all haphazard and unruly.

Holding the cloth for all to see, Corrie would explain how that cloth represented what we can see of our life. Our lives look jumbled and often the dark seasons we endure (like the dark threads) make no sense.

Then she would turn the cloth around revealing an intricately embroidered crown. She would explain that God sees this side of the cloth and one day will reveal it to us. 

Those dark threads, or dark seasons of our lives, make no sense right now but one day we’ll see what God was up to. The dark threads are necessary to make the whole embroidery stunningly beautiful.

The night before His crucifixion, Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 NIV

In closing, let me leave you with a poem Corrie ten Boom often quoted to capture this allegory.

Life is But a Weaving (The Tapestry Poem)

By Grant Tuller

 

My life is but a weaving

Between my God and me.

I cannot choose the colors

He weaveth steadily.

 

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I the underside.

 

Not ’til the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly

Will God unroll the canvas

And reveal the reason why.

 

The dark threads are as needful

In the weaver’s skillful hand

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned.

 

He knows, He loves, He cares;

Nothing this truth can dim.

He gives the very best to those

Who leave the choice to Him.