The Consolation of Obedience

Elisabeth Elliot: "You are loved with an everlasting love," that's what the Bible says, "and underneath are the everlasting arms."
I want to share on the consolation of obedience. A few months ago, I read through most of my journal of 1973. That was when my husband, Addison Leitch, was dying of cancer. He had to have radiation treatments, which meant that we had to drive the 35 miles to Boston five days a week for six weeks. So that was one thing that God gave me to do every day. I knew that we simply had to go to Boston City Hospital.
For the first few weeks, my husband did the driving. Then he was too tired, too worn out, too weak, and I did the driving. It was my job. My job was also housework, laundry, meals, encouragement, trying to move as methodically as I possibly could from one thing to another. And I had learned a principle from my mother many years before: Do the next thing. And it is wonderful how simple it is when we just do the next thing.

Here's this poem from which that maxim comes:
From an old English parsonage down by the sea,
There came in the twilight a message for me.
Its quaint Saxon legend deeply engravened hath,
As it seems to me, teaching from heaven.

And on through the hours the quiet words ring
Like a low inspiration, do the next thing.
Many a questioning, many a fear,
Many a doubt hath its quieting here.

Moment by moment, let down from heaven,
Time, opportunity, guidance are given.
Fear not tomorrows, child of the king,
Trust them with Jesus, do the next thing.

Do it immediately, do it with prayer,
Do it reliantly, casting all care.
Do it with reverence, tracing His hand
Who placed it before thee with earnest command.

Stayed on omnipotence, faith 'neath his wing,
Leave all resultings, do the next thing.
Looking to Jesus ever serener,
Working or suffering, be thy demeanor.

In His dear presence, the rest of His calm,
The light of His countenance be thy psalm.
Strong in His faithfulness, praise and sing.
hen as He beckons thee, do the next thing.

I think of the continuity, the evenness in the life of Mary. Mary so trusted the Lord that she received with a quiet heart the message from the angel and moved, so far as we can tell from the Scriptures, serenely through her life. Her first commitment was to take care of that baby that God had given her. That baby was carried through all the days of her life; first of all, of course, in her womb. But one day at a time, she did the next thing.

And one day when the baby was only eight days old, she heard the words of Simeon, the old prophet who was waiting for the consolation of Israel. The Messiah, our Lord Jesus, is that consolation. These are the words from the Gospel of Luke:

"There was in Jerusalem a man called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord's Christ. Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts.

"When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the law required, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God saying: 'Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all people, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for the glory of your people Israel.'

"The child's father and mother marveled at what was said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: 'This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul, too.'"

And I wonder if Mary realized at that very moment that that prophecy would be a part of the piercing of that sword. She would have to watch her son be a sign that was spoken against.

"There was also a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was old; and she had lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, and then was a widow until she was 84. She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying. Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.

"When Joseph and Mary had done everything required by the Law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee to their own town of Nazareth. And the child grew and became strong; He was filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was upon Him."
What does this have to do with the consolation of obedience? Mary had begun to feel the piercing of that sword, but Joseph and Mary did everything that was required by the Law, and the next thing was that they just went home, returned to Galilee to their own town of Nazareth. Maybe a very simple thing and an obvious thing, and yet it seems to me that it is in those very ways that God consoles us and teaches us to wait on him, to keep a quiet heart. Obedience brings joy, disobedience brings misery--and I know that I speak from experience.

I mentioned yesterday that I had gone through my journal of 1973. My husband, Add Leitch, had died in September of 1973, and two months after his death, I found this entry:

"I find that routine is the best support for my soul. I can function with almost my customary efficiency and concentration so long as I operate by habit. The sameness, ordinariness and necessity are comfortable for me. It is in the interruption of routine, especially in social life, that I find myself beginning to disintegrate and turn inward. This is hazardous and I have to grab the reins and say to myself 'Giddyap!' Suffering builds a thick wall between two people. One is the sufferer and one the watcher, and neither can fully communicate his experience. It's almost as if they have nothing in common."

I can remember my husband saying to me "We live in two different worlds. I'm sick, you're well." And here's a word for those who may be wondering "How do I know what the next thing is?"

George MacDonald wrote:

"'What is my next duty? What is the thing that lies nearest to me?'" The answer comes, "'That...belongs to your every-day history. No one can answer that question but yourself. Your next duty is just to determine what your next duty is--Is there nothing you neglect? Is there nothing you know you ought not to do?--You would know your duty, if you thought in earnest about it, and were not ambitious of great things.'

"'Ah then,'" responded she, "'I suppose it is something very commonplace, which will make life more dreary than ever. That cannot help me.'

"'It will help you, if it be as dreary as reading the newspapers to an old deaf aunt. It will soon lead you to something more. Your duty will begin to comfort you at once, but will at length open the unknown fountain of life in your heart.'"

And Thomas Carlisle said, "Do the duty which lies nearest thee. Thy second duty will have become clearer."

I don't know who's listening today who has just suffered a tremendous blow, perhaps the loss of someone you love, the loss through divorce or abandonment or death. God knows. May I just offer you this little word? Do the next thing. Ask the Lord to show you the humble, simple, ordinary thing. Perhaps it's something you can do for somebody else, and you'll be amazed at the consolation that obedience brings. Trust and obey, for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.

Matthew 6: 33-34