The Secrets of the Lord
“But you are not St. Paul.” I remember reading that in a
book on healing, just after I had been given peace in acceptance of a
certain “thorn in the flesh” (2 Cor. 12: 7). I had prayed more than
three times that it might depart from me, but it had not departed.
“You are not St. Paul.” It was true, of course, but it seemed too facile to be a true answer to this riddle of the universe.
And now, the more I study life as well as books, the more
sure I am that there is a darkness folded round that riddle into whose
heart of light we are not meant to see. Perhaps that light would be too
bright for our eyes now.
I have known lovers of our Lord who in their spiritual
youth were sure beyond a doubt that healing would always follow the
prayer of faith and the anointing of oil in the name of the Lord. But
those same dear lovers, in their beautiful maturity, passed through
illness, unrelieved by any healing.
When I looked in wonder, remembering all that they had
held and taught in other years, I found them utterly at rest. The
secret of their Lord was with them. He had said to them, their own
beloved Lord had said it, “Let not your heart be troubled, neither let
it be afraid” (John 14: 27). So their hearts were not troubled or
afraid, and their song was always of the lovingkindness of the Lord.
“As for God, His way is perfect” (Ps. 18:30), they said. “We need no
explanation.”
Today with this thought in mind I read the “Song of the
Redeemed,” the ninth song of St. John, heard after a door was opened in
heaven: “Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty; just
and true are thy ways, thou King of saints” (Rev. 15:3).
Some of us cannot enter fully into even earthly music
until it has become familiar. Perhaps our various experiences here are
means by which we may learn the heavenly melody to which such words are
set, so that when we hear the harpers harping on the harps of God we
shall catch the thread of that melody, and follow it through its
harmonies, moving among them with confidence and gladness, as on
familiar ground.
“As for God, His way is perfect.” That is the substance of the words. And if His way be perfect, we need no explanation.
Amy Beatrice Carmichael (1867-1951) was a missionary
and a prolific author of poetry and prose. She was born in Millisle,
Northern Ireland, to Presbyterian parents, and from her youth was
sensitive to the message of the gospel and the fate of those who did
not know Christ.
In 1892, her application to the China Inland Mission
was turned down because of concerns regarding her health. But in 1893,
she was given the chance to serve briefly in Japan and Ceylon.
Finally, in October 1895, Amy arrived in India, where
she would remain for the rest of her life. Her ministry, Dohnavur
Fellowship, focused on rescuing children from threatening situations
such as child marriage and temple prostitution. To those who became
part of her family, Amy, who never married, became “Amma,”—a term
derived from the Tamil word for mother.
In 1931, Amy suffered disabling injuries in a fall and
never fully recovered. The final two decades of her life were spent
confined to her quarters.
From her bed, she frequently wrote letters to her
friends and staff. One collection of writings provided the content for
her best-known book, Rose From Brier (Christian Literature Crusade).
Amy Carmichael died in 1951 and is buried on the
grounds of the Dohnavur Fellowship. The ministry she began more than
100 years ago continues in operation.
Adapted from Rose From Brier by Amy Carmichael, copyright 1995. Published by Christian Literature Crusade. Used by permission.
