Our Testimony, God's Story

Our stories—with both their past and ongoing heartaches, sins, rebellions and joys—are beautiful testimonies of God’s redeeming love and boundless grace towards us.  Every aspect of our testimony, from our prodigal son-like recklessness to humble repentance, contributes to our story.  Both the tragedies and triumphs are knit together in such a manner that they cannot and should not be separated—victories do not bring joy without the struggle that precedes them, and satisfying and beautiful rest is not seen as such apart from contrasting trials. And so you cannot have the one without the other—tragedy and triumph go hand-in-hand.  

When it comes to my testimony, I confess that at times I prefer to “leave out” some details, especially when it relates to my own shortcomings. Yet God has faithfully worked on me with His divine brush, so why do I attempt to paint a different picture of my life?  At times I’m ashamed of what I did and who I was—ashamed that I lived as I did and didn’t have my life more “together”.   In other instances, my pride influences what I share.  If something makes me look better, I’ll share it.  If it cuts to the root of my sinful heart, however, it’s conveniently left out.  In such instances, my shame and pride display both arrogance and a resistance to share my own struggles.

Maybe we wish our testimony was somehow different. Perhaps we think to ourselves:

If only I hadn’t been so stubborn in my sin… 

If only I would have repented sooner…

 If only I would have surrendered myself to Christ before this or that happened...

 If only I didn’t backslide…

Or maybe upon hearing the testimony of another, we hesitate to share ours, thinking:

How on earth am I supposed to follow on the heels of that testimony? Compared to that story, mine isn’t that profound.  I wish I had a more radical, compelling story.  Mine pales in comparison…

Or maybe we even feel:

Wow, their “sinful living” was nothing compared to the darkness I embraced.  They’ve hardly done anything wrong.  I feel so dirty compared to them.  Maybe I shouldn’t share my full story.  They’ll either be offended or write me off if they know the full extent of who I once was…who I am…

I think Satan hurls these lies against us in the hopes of keeping us from sharing our testimonies.  Why? I believe that in causing us to feel self-conscious or insecure about our story, the evil one hopes to turn our focus inward.  Our story, however, isn’t really ours —it’s God’s.  And that is precisely why we should share it and exactly why Satan will utilize all his power to try and keep us quiet.   

The reality of the matter, however, is that just because we each possess a different story does not mean that one testimony is somehow “better” than the next.  In fact, the uniqueness of our testimonies is beautiful because God specifically customizes His work in each one of us.  The end goal—our salvation and sanctification and His glorification—is the same for all, but the means by which we are drawn to Him and the processes by which He works in our lives are hand-tailored to each one of us.  We are not cookie-cutouts.  Different does not mean better, and we must guard ourselves against falling prey to such lies.  We need all sorts of testimonies, for they remind us that no one is beyond the reach of God’s grace or the need of God’s grace.

So yes, sharing our stories is important.  It encourages our hearts and the hearts of those around us in several ways.  First, sharing our testimony compels us to remember all that God has brought to pass in our life.  Personally, I am so prone to forgetting—forgetting how lost I was in my sin, the painful trials I struggled through, and God’s faithfulness in the midst of all.  I forget who I am and Whose I am.  When I share my story, however, I am quickly reminded I am more underserving and sinful than I ever dared think, but as God’s precious daughter I am more loved and accepted than I ever dared hope.   Sharing our story is thus the means by which we are reminded of who we are, but more importantly, Whose we are and who God is.  Secondly, sharing our story lifts our hearts and emboldens us as we are reminded of the power of the One we serve.  When we share our stories, we are reminded that the Holy Spirit works in profound ways and is able to accomplish beyond all we could ever ask or imagine.  So we can take heart, knowing that God is for us and fights on our behalf.  Thirdly, I think God is pleased and glorified when we share our stories with others.  If we share our stories in a truly honest and humble manner, the focus in the end should not be on us.  While it may appear as though we own our story, the reality of the matter is that Christ’s work in our lives should reflect God’s glory and place the spotlight on Him.   We see that God reaches all sorts of people, softening the hardest of hearts and drawing even religious churchgoers into personal relationship with Himself. It is God who fiercely yet tenderly woos us in.  We cannot take credit for this.    

  

Along with this, the question may arise as to whether or not we should care what others think of us as we share our stories. Yes and no.  Yes, we should care in the sense that we bear the name of Christ and are thus responsible for how we represent Him. The Gospel is offensive enough to many unbelievers—we ourselves should not be offensive.  There is also a sense, however, in which we should not care what others think.  When we share our stories, the emphasis should not be on our excellency, wisdom, or honor.  If people approve of us, it should be because they see and love and rejoice in Christ’s work in our lives.  In other words, they approve of us not because of what we have done, but because of what Christ has done in us and through us on our behalf.  There may be some, however, who upon hearing our stories reject us.  While no one whishes to be resisted or condemned, our identity does not rest on the opinions of others.  We should not attempt to change who we are or alter the theme of our stories simply to avoid rejection or win the approval of others.  I love what John Piper stated in a sermon on Christian identity and Christian destiny:

“[…] as a Christian you cannot talk about your identity without talking about the action of God on you, the relationship of God with you, and the purpose of God for you. The biblical understanding of human self-identity is radically God-centered…[God] has given us our identity in order that his identity might be proclaimed through us. God made us who we are so we could make known who he is. Our identity is for the sake of making known his identity. The meaning of our identity is that the excellency of God be seen in us.”

As the other day was Christmas, my stepdad sat and read John 1:1-18 to the family.  Prior to yesterday, I had typically overlooked John’s role in this passage and instead focused on Christ, who is referred to as both the life and light of men.  The other night, however, several things struck me regarding John.  We read:

“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.  He came as a witness, to bear witness about the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to bear witness about the light.”

First, what struck me is that John was a witness.  In other words, John’s role was to give testimony to others of who Christ was.   Secondly, when I had previously read “that all might believe through him”, I had always assumed that “him” referred to the “light”, or Christ.  I didn’t realize, however, that “him” refers to John—Christ’s witness.  What I find fascinating is that while it is belief in Christ that saves, most people come to see and believe in Christ through the testimony of others.  John was a witness proclaiming Christ such that others were drawn to faith through his testimony. We also read that “[Christ] was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him.  He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him.”  It seems then that witnesses are important exactly because the world is hostile to Christ and the Gospel.  We ourselves are not the light, but we are responsible for reflecting and radiating that Light to a dark world.  Because of this, we cannot neglect our role since we are one of God’s means for drawing His children to Himself. 

So what does all of this mean?  Alone, you and I may be only one voice, but together we can live and proclaim God’s work in our lives in such a way that brings glory to Him.  As we are filled with God’s Spirit, our hearts should overflow with thankfulness for His merciful and gracious work in our lives and an eagerness to share what He has done.  Our words and actions and attitudes should proclaim and display the goodness of God—in the way we speak and live, we should portray Christ in such a manner that others are drawn to Him.  So out of our love for God and others, let us rejoice and boldly share who we are, Whose we are, who God is, and the glorious ways He is at work in our lives. 

Pride, Unbelief, and the Failure to Forgive

“But if you do not forgive men, then your Father will not forgive your transgressions.” (Matthew 6:15)

“Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you.  […] For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.” (Luke 6:37-38)

In response to being forgiven by God, shouldn’t our hearts overflow in love and forgiveness towards others?  Shouldn’t we be so in awe of the underserving mercy God has shown us that our lives are characterized by an outpouring of grace towards others?  Why then, when we are wronged, do we feel a driving need to call out the unjust?  Why do we hold grudges, and why do we possess the urge to defend ourselves and show others the offenders’ true colors?  Why does anger and resentment eat away at our souls, and is there a better way to respond when we feel unjustly aggrieved?

For myself, I am learning that the gnawing I feel within to have vengeance and set things right stems mainly from a heart of pride and unbelief.  One of my greatest idols is man’s approval.  I’m a people-pleaser, and as such much of my identity is wrapped up in how others view me.  While being a people-pleaser may cause me to appear humble, the reality is that my people-pleasing behavior actually stems from a twisted sense of pride—pride that demands others respect me and hold me in high esteem. Any slight against my character or person is thus a danger that threatens to destroy my world.  How do I respond to such slights?  Anger.  Bitterness.  Resentment.  Despair.  I believe also that my failure to forgive arises from a heart of unbelief which manifests itself in two ways— unbelief in who I am and unbelief in Who God is.  What do I mean by unbelief in who I am?  I mean that I fail to recognize how sinful I really am—I write my sins off as trivial compared to the sins of others, refusing to believe that I’m really that bad.  What a lie.  And then there’s my unbelief in God which doubts His sovereignty, goodness, and justice.  And what does this cause me to do?  I take matters into my own hands.               

C.S. Lewis writes on the problem of forgiveness in the following:

“. . . you must make every effort to kill every taste of resentment in your own heart—every wish to humiliate or hurt him or to pay him out. The difference between this situation and the one in such you are asking God’s forgiveness is this. In our own case we accept excuses too easily; in other people’s we do not accept them easily enough.

As regards my own sin it is a safe bet (though not a certainty) that the excuses are not really so good as I think; as regards other men’s sins against me it is a safe bet (though not a certainty) that the excuses are better than I think. One must therefore begin by attending to everything which may show that the other man was not so much to blame as we thought.

But even if he is absolutely fully to blame we still have to forgive him; and even if ninety-nine percent of his apparent guilt can be explained away by really good excuses, the problem of forgiveness begins with the one percent guilt which is left over. To excuse what can really produce good excuses is not Christian character; it is only fairness. To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.

This is hard. It is perhaps not so hard to forgive a single great injury. But to forgive the incessant provocations of daily life—to keep on forgiving the bossy mother-in-law, the bullying husband, the nagging wife, the selfish daughter, the deceitful son—how can we do it? Only, I think, by remembering where we stand, by meaning our words when we say in our prayers each night ‘forgive our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass against us.’ We are offered forgiveness on no other terms. To refuse it is to refuse God’s mercy for ourselves. There is no hint of exceptions and God means what He says.”

If I cherish and nurse a grudge against a fellow man, how can I dare approach God and demand mercy? If I—a depraved and sin-soiled sinner—demand justice when I am slighted, how much more should the holy and all-powerful God of the universe demand justice when His name is scorned?  Why should God have mercy on me if I fail to render to Him that which I demand for myself from others?  He shouldn’t.  In fact, the intensity with which I hold others guilty bears testimony to the fact that God will hold me guilty for my sins against Him.  It seems then that Christ’s command to “Forgive that you might be forgiven,” is not just a suggestion—it’s a rule!  I like how John Piper states it when he writes:

“God treats us in accordance with the belief of our heart: if we believe it is good and beautiful to harbor resentments and tabulate wrongs done against us, then God will recognize that our plea for forgiveness is sheer hypocrisy—for we will be asking Him to do what we believe to be bad. It is a dreadful thing to try to make God your patsy by asking Him to act in a way that you, as your action shows, esteem very lowly.”

And so, what can I take away from this?  If, in my pride, I hold fast to an unforgiving spirit, I am proving that I do not trust Christ and His way of life, for how could I withhold forgiveness for mild offenses when my monstrous debt against the most high God has been paid in full?  I know I can’t earn Heaven by forgiving others, but my prayer is that I will cease to be like the unforgiving servant Jesus spoke of in Matthew 18.  Through the power of the Holy Spirit, may I come to resist revenge against those who have hurt me, grieve at their calamities, pray for their welfare, and seek reconciliation so far as it depends on me. 

“When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered he did not threaten; but he trusted to him who judges justly.” (1 Peter 1:23)

Sweetly Broken

“O God, I have tasted Thy goodness, and it has both satisfied me and made me thirsty for more. I am painfully conscious of my need for further grace. I am ashamed of my lack of desire. O God, the Triune God, I want to want Thee; I long to be filled with longing; I thirst to be made more thirsty still. Show me Thy glory, I pray Thee, so that I may know Thee indeed. Begin in mercy a new work of love within me. Say to my soul, ‘Rise up my love, my fair one, and come away.’ Then give me grace to rise and follow Thee up from this misty lowland where I have wandered so long.” ― A.W. Tozer

Well, it finally happened.  Stubborn and strong-willed Sara Seeland has come to the end of herself.  I’m hopeless and helpless to save myself. It’s been a difficult day.  A difficult week.  In fact, I admit it’s been an incredibly difficult summer.  In spite of all the things God has taught me, I’m exhausted of still trying to “do life” in my own strength.  I am drowning in my self-sufficiency.  The reality of the situation is that in my recent flounderings to remain strong and independent, I have actually become increasingly needy.  Needy for Something and Someone. 

While I believe firmly that God uses these barren times of frustration and loneliness to invite us into deeper communion with Him, I have not accepted that invitation.  Rather, I have forsaken this incredibly opportunity to immerse myself in the gospel and have instead pursued fulfillment in those things which cannot ultimately satisfy. Take relationships, for example.  As beings designed after God’s own image, we are created for community with other beings.  This community, however, should not come at the expense of deep and intimate communion with God.  This summer, however, I have sacrificed that communion for community—I have turned towards others to fill that which only God can supply, and when they fail to satisfy this deep need I have within, I isolate myself in frustration and despair.

I am deeply convicted by his sermon, “The First Dark Exchange: Idolatry”, in which John Piper preaches on Romans 1:21-23.  This passage reads, “For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man and of birds and four-footed animals and crawling creatures.”  I am ashamed to admit I have absolutely suppressed the Holy Spirit’s promptings within me.  Instead, I have pursed the “pitiful substitutes” that Piper describes in his sermon, and as he himself states, “That is the fundamental problem with the human race. We do not acknowledge, value, treasure, savor, honor, or make much of the greatest value in the universe, the glory of God. That is our wickedness and our disease and our great mutiny against God.”  Piper argues, “The created universe is all about glory.  The deepest longing of the human heart and the deepest meaning of heaven and earth are summed up in this: the glory of God…The universe was made to show it, and we were made to see it and savor it.  Which is why the world is so disordered and as dysfunctional as it is.  We have exchanged the glory of God for other things.” I am indeed guilty of this “dark exchange”, in the midst of which my speculations have become futile, my heart has darkened, and my own perceived wisdom has masked the true foolishness of my exchange.

Christ is indeed the answer to the psalmist’s question, “Whom have I in heaven but you?” (Psalm 73:25), and yet I have failed—refused, in fact—to embrace this reality.  I am so thankful, however, that God has not left me to myself.  Despite forsaking Him and running headlong into self-destruction, Christ has chased after me and assumed the cost of my deliberate sins upon Himself.  His radical sacrifice is beyond my understanding, and yet I do know this:  I have reached the end of myself, and now it is He I must finally turn towards to save me from my Hell-bound race.  But I feel cold and distant, and I am ashamed of my meager, half-hearted attempts to return once again to His side.   And so my prayer, like Tozer, is this: “O God, I have tasted Thy goodness, and it has both satisfied me and made me thirsty for more. I am painfully conscious of my need for further grace. I am ashamed of my lack of desire. O God, the Triune God, I want to want Thee; I long to be filled with longing; I thirst to be made more thirsty still. Show me Thy glory, I pray Thee, so that I may know Thee indeed. Begin in mercy a new work of love within me. Say to my soul, ‘Rise up my love, my fair one, and come away.’ Then give me grace to rise and follow Thee up from this misty lowland where I have wandered so long.”  May I once again experience the sweet communion that comes only from fellowship with God, and may He humble me through this such that I am evermore reminded that He alone is the one true treasure that my heart and soul yearn for.  

Like HERE to Piper's sermon, "The First Dark Exchange: Idolatry"

Humble Pie

I am so incredibly thankful for Romans 8:28.    This process of sanctification is long and often trying, but I am so grateful that the God I serve is One who breaks into my brokenness and pieces me back together with the transforming power of His grace and mercy.   

What was my most recent “break-through”?  It was my last post, titled “Lists: Your Plans or God’s?”.  Actually, the “break-through” did not occur until several days after my posting.  It was then that God quickly brought to my attention the rotten state of my proud heart.  Through His Spirit and the words of other believing friends, He removed the scales from my eyes and allowed me to see that while the things I wrote in my last post may have indeed been true, they were not written in a spirit of grace and humility.  Rather, my last post was an arrogant response to the seemingly proud and conceited “list mentality”.   I am so convicted by Luke 6:45 which reads, “The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.”  And what was the attitude of my heart?  Pride, and it manifested itself in my self-righteous post.  Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! I do not have everything figured out, and I am increasingly realizing how incredibly prone I am to the sin of thinking I do!

I love how John Piper portrays this battle between the Spirit and the flesh in one of his sermons. He states:

Picture your flesh—that old ego with the mentality of merit and craving for power and reputation and self-reliance—picture it as a dragon living in some cave of your soul. Then you hear the gospel, and in it Jesus Christ comes to you and says, "I will make you mine and take possession of the cave and slay the dragon. Will you yield to my possession? It will mean a whole new way of thinking and feeling and acting." You say: "But that dragon is me. I will die." He says, "And you will rise to newness of life, for I will take its plan; I will make my mind and my will and my heart your own." You say, "What must I do?" He answers, "Trust me and do as I say. As long as you trust me, we cannot lose." Overcome by the beauty and power of Christ you bow and swear eternal loyalty and trust.

And as you rise, he puts a great sword in your hand and says, "Follow me." He leads you to the mouth of the cave and says, "Go in, slay the dragon." But you look at him bewildered, "I cannot. Not without you." He smiles. "Well said. You learn quickly. Never forget: my commands for you to do something are never commands to do it alone." Then you enter the cave together. A horrible battle follows and you feel Christ's hand on yours. At last the dragon lies limp. You ask, "Is it dead?" His answer is this: "I have come to give you new life. This you received when you yielded to my possession and swore faith and loyalty to me. And now with my sword and my hand you have felled the dragon of the flesh. It is a mortal wound. It will die. That is certain. But it has not yet bled to death, and it may yet revive with violent convulsions and do much harm. So you must treat it as dead and seal the cave as a tomb. The Lord of darkness may cause earthquakes in your soul to shake the stones loose, but you build them up again. And have this confidence: with my sword and my hand on yours this dragon's doom is sure, he is finished, and your new life is secure."

I think that is the meaning of Galatians 5:24, "Those who belong to Christ have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires." Christ has taken possession of our soul. Our old self has been dealt a mortal wound and stripped of its power to have dominion. The Christian life, the fruit of the Spirit, is a constant reckoning of the flesh as dead (piling stones on its tomb) and a constant relying on the present Spirit of Christ to produce love, joy, and peace within. The difference between the Christian life and popular American morality is that Christians will not take one step unless the hand of Christ holds the hand that wields the sword of righteousness.

I am so thankful that I am not alone, for I know how helpless I am to save myself.  If I want to destroy this dragon within me, I need Someone great.  Only He who is within me possesses the power to bring about my sanctification, and I am so thankful that my God is committed to helping me destroy this dragon that rears its ugly head of pride and self-righteousness.  

I am not naïve enough to think that the battle it over.  In fact, I am so aware of my sinful and needy state that I have no doubt I will continue to sin in this area.  By God’s grace, however, I don’t want to give Satan a foothold.  My prayer is that I will awake every morning and prostrate myself before the foot of the cross, for it is there that I am safest.  May God continually keep me on my knees before Him, and may I never forget my own desperate and needy state!  And when I do fall and fail, may He grant me to humility and confidence to boldly confess my sins. 

In my pride I was blind to my own self-righteousness and utterly convinced that my last post was justified.  Indeed, the words may have been, but the heart and spirit behind my words were not.  The following prayer from the Valley of Vision fits my situation perfectly. 

"Self-Knowledge"

“Searcher of Hearts,

It is a good day to me when thou givest me a glimpse of myself;

Sin is my greatest evil, but thou art my greatest good;

I have cause to loathe myself, and not to seek self-honour,

for no one desires to commend his own dunghill.

My country, family, church fare worse because of my sins,

For sinners bring judgment in thinking sins are small, or

That God is not angry with them.

Let me not take other good men as my example,

and think I am good because I am like them,

For all good men are not so good as thou desirest,

Are not always consistent,

Do not always follow holiness,

Do not feel eternal good in sore affliction.

Show me how to know when a thing is evil

Which I think is right and good,

How to know when what is lawful

Comes from an evil principle,

Such as desire for reputation or wealth by usury.

Give me grace to recall my needs,

My lack of knowing thy will in Scripture,

Of wisdom to guide others,

Of daily repentance, want to which keeps thee at bay,

Of the spirit of prayer, having words without love,

Of zeal for thy glory, seeking my own ends,

Of joy in thee and thy will, of love to others.

And let me not lay my pipe too short of the fountain,

Never touching the eternal spring, never drawing down water from above.

-The Valley of Vision, p. 122f

This is such a powerful reminder that I am not above reproach.  Even more so, however, I rejoice that God uses even my most miserable failings to bring about my sanctification and ultimately His glory.  What a promise we have in Romans 8:28!   

The Fight of Faith

“Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness.  Fight the good fight of the faith.  Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses.”

 1 Timothy 6:11-12

I have been convicted recently of how passive and lukewarm I have become in my faith as each day I struggle to make time in Word and come before the Lord.  My faith really feels like a fight now.  What does this mean though?  How and why is faith a “fight”?  I believe that my faith and the faith of other believers is a fight in a few different senses.  The first is that our faith requires that we do daily battle against sin and the pulls of this world.  That one seems obvious.  I find that for myself, however, faith can also be a fight in a much more different sense, and it is this:  the daily battle to keep believing in God and trusting in His promises.  I am both a planner and a perfectionist, and as such I have a hard time asking for help. It is no wonder that one of my greatest sin struggles is self-reliance!  I don’t so much struggle with carrying a burden as I do allowing a burden to be carried for me.  The my weaknesses and inadequacies may feel like failures, the reality is that that they are actually blessings, for the reality is that I can never and will never get through on my own!  My strength is not enough!  As Martin Luther says, “All our striving would be losing.”  This is so true of me: so often I try so hard to go somewhere and end up going nowhere.  I cannot do this alone, and my weaknesses are a constant reminder that I need Someone greater than myself.  And yet, while I know this, Satan threatens to steal my hope and peace by stirring within me unbelief and doubt about God’s promises.  Do I trust that God is great enough, strong enough, and caring enough to take on my burdens?  And so, faith is very much a fight for me—a fight against the very real enemies of unbelief and doubt.   

Since faith is a fight, it obviously requires action.  Just look at what Christians are called to: “Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness.  Fight the good fight of the faith.  Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses.”   No battle was ever won by men sitting comfortably at home. God has ordained that I and other Christians fight for our faith and for Him.  This is not optional!  And yet I casually and comfortably go about my life as though it were an option.  God calls us to press forward because He knows that if we stand still, it is only a matter of time before we will begin to sink.

I have trusted in my own strength for far too long.  The enemy is very evil, and I cannot face him alone.  But praise God that I am not left to my own strength.  In one of his sermons, John Piper quotes from Scripture, "For God is at work in you both to will and to do his good pleasure."   Piper goes on to explain this by saying. “In other words, when a child of God fights the fight of faith, God is really the one who is behind that struggle giving the will and the power to defeat the enemy of unbelief. We are not left to ourselves to sustain faith. God fights for us and in us. Therefore the fight of faith is a good fight.”   I am so encouraged by this.  I am struggling right now, but I praise God that He is in it and that He has promised never to forsake me.   

Yes, this fight of a faith is indeed a good fight, as difficult and as painful as it may be at times. It is good because I am fighting against the evil enemy.  It is good because I am not fighting in my own strength.  It is good because God is glorified as I humbly allow Him to carry my burdens.  And lastly, it is good because it is the God-ordained way by which I lay hold of eternal life.  My prayer this week is that I will fight the good fight by submitting myself to the will of the Lord by casting my worries and anxieties on Him and trusting in His good promises.  Through His power, I want to fight for freedom—freedom from the doubts and unbelief that manifest themselves in “standing still” in my walk with the Lord.