Last night I said, "I'm out of cheeks." Allen thought I had lost my mind because it was in the middle of a hard discussion with our son. But it was what I felt at the moment, that I just didn't have any more cheeks to turn. You know the biblical mandate, "Turn the other cheek." Well, I just didn't know if I could do this anymore.
But, of course, I can. And I will. My trial (persecution, inconvenience, whatever you want to call it) is so temporary, and nothing--I repeat--nothing in comparison to what Jesus endured on the cross.
I listened as Angela Franklin sang the song "He's always been faithful to me" twice this morning, and this line grabbed me:
I can't remember a trial or a pain he did not recycle to bring me gain. I can't remember one single regret in serving God only and trusting his hand.
God recycles my pain. How cool is that! How green of Him! :)
I treasure the promise that God is in the recycling business. My "pain" is temporary; I hope in a Savior who promises to work all things together for good, for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.
Granted, I could choose to let my pain build up like the cans in my recycle bin. While the cans remain at my house in a stinky old garbarge can, they're nothing but the promise of recycled aluminum. It's up to me to get those cans to the recycler, so he can do his "magic."
Every day, many times each day, I take my "cans" of pain to the Master Recycler. Right now, it feels like the return is small, so very small. But I cling to the promise that one day, "those who sow in tears will reap with joyful shouting" (Ps. 126:5 NASB).
Maybe there's another cheek to turn after all!
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