The Anvil Of His Grace

There is a place in the Arabian desert that T. E. Lawrence called the Anvil of God. In Arab legend it was the place of intense heat where God took men to bend them to His will.

I can testify that God does have an anvil. He is the Blacksmith of heaven, bending the souls of men to His will, wielding His hammer without mercy in an effort to save us. It is contradictory in the human sense, but He thinks nothing of killing us to save us. He knows that we have to die before we can really live. Sometimes He manages to kill the rebellion in us so that we live this life for Him. Other times, the flesh must die so that we can live. His loving intentions will be born out in the eternal lives of those He saves.

There are times in this life where we of faith can look back and see how He has formed us and shaped us in His Forge and pounded out something beautiful from the cheapest metals of our lives. Then there are those days when we know He is not done with us. He grasps us with His tongs and plunges us back into the fire for one more bout of refinement, one more pounding of His holy hammer.  

I discovered yesterday that I still have a hard heart. I felt like the older brother in the story of the prodigal. I was angry, resentful and vengeful. I wanted to call down fire on my brother even as others were rushing around to rescue him. My well of human grace and kindness was dry. I had nothing to offer but bitter anger at how he has disrespected me, my testimony, my faith and even the sacrifice I brought to the Lord.

I did not have a clue about any of this until others tried to make his problem my problem. I knew I had a lingering jealousy of this individual. I knew I was coveting the self willed life he is currently enjoying. But in the night and while I slept, the Blacksmith of heaven did His work. In the midst of fire and blazing heat, His hammer came down and split the hot metal of my soul. The impurities flowed out and then I knew.

I am guilty of self righteous resentment, hate and anger toward my brother. Even now I just want to let him drown in his sin. My hand is not forthcoming. I do not wish to pull him back into the boat. And part of this is because he is not reaching out for help. If someone is to help save him, it will be against his will. My thought is that he needs to struggle some more. And so I cross my arms and let him drift away while he tries to breath sea water. So be it.

Really? Is this the way I am? Apparently so.

Whatever... It is good I did not join the rescue efforts. It is good that I did not involve myself, given the abject poverty of my attitude and hardness of heart. It was thought by some that I could empathize. I can. I understand exactly how he feels. I understand exactly what he wants and the only -  the only advice I have for him is what the Blacksmith gave me as His hammer came down on my soul.

"Deny yourself, take up your cross and follow Me."