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Streams In The Desert
Trusting God In Times Of Adversity
Streams In The Desert: Morning And Evening. 365 Devotions
7 Days Behind The Veil: Throne Room Meditations
Things Pondered
Names Of God
A Heart Like His: Intimate Reflections On The Life Of David
Seek And Find
Hope: A Partner To Faith
17 Facts About Thankfulness
About the Book
"Blessed In The Mess" by Joyce Meyer is a guide to finding peace and purpose in the midst of life's challenges and difficulties. Meyer shares personal stories and biblical wisdom to help readers embrace their imperfections and trust in God's plan for their lives. The book offers practical advice and encouragement for overcoming obstacles and discovering blessings even in the messiest situations.
Fanny Crosby
"Oh, what a happy soul I am, / although I cannot see! / I am resolved that in this world / Contented I will be."
Francis Jane Crosby wrote more than 9,000 hymns, some of which are among the most popular in every Christian denomination. She wrote so many that she was forced to use pen names lest the hymnals be filled with her name above all others. And, for most people, the most remarkable thing about her was that she had done so in spite of her blindness.
"I think it is a great pity that the Master did not give you sight when he showered so many other gifts upon you," remarked one well-meaning preacher.
Fanny Crosby responded at once, as she had heard such comments before. "Do you know that if at birth I had been able to make one petition, it would have been that I was born blind?" said the poet, who had been able to see only for her first six weeks of life. "Because when I get to heaven, the first face that shall ever gladden my sight will be that of my Savior."
Blinded by a quack
Born in Putnam County, New York, Crosby became ill within two months. Unfortunately, the family doctor was away, and another manâpretending to be a certified doctorâtreated her by prescribing hot mustard poultices to be applied to her eyes. Her illness eventually relented, but the treatment left her blind. When the doctor was revealed to be a quack, he disappeared. A few months later, Crosby's father died. Her mother was forced to find work as a maid to support the family, and Fanny was mostly raised by her Christian grandmother.
Her love of poetry began earlyâher first verse, written at age 8, echoed her lifelong refusal to feel sorry for herself:
Oh, what a happy soul I am,
although I cannot see!
I am resolved that in this world
Contented I will be.
How many blessings I enjoy
That other people don't,
To weep and sigh because I'm blind
I cannot, and I won't!
While she enjoyed her poetry, she zealously memorized the Bible. Memorizing five chapters a week, even as a child she could recite the Pentateuch, the Gospels, Proverbs, the Song of Solomon, and many psalms chapter and verse.
Her mother's hard work paid off. Shortly before her fifteenth birthday, Crosby was sent to the recently founded New York Institute for the Blind, which would be her home for 23 years: 12 as a student, 11 as a teacher. She initially indulged in her own poetry and was called upon to pen verses for various occasions. In time the principal asked her to avoid such "distractions" in favor of her general instruction. "We have no right to be vain in the presence of the Owner and Creator of all things," he said.
It was the work of a traveling phrenologist (one who studies the shape and irregularities of the skull for insights into character and mental capacity) that changed the school's mind and again ignited her passion. Though his study is now the ridicule of science, the phrenologist's words were to prove prophetic: "Here is a poetess. Give her every possible encouragement. Read the best books to her and teach her the finest that is in poetry. You will hear from this young lady some day."
Poetry for presidents
It didn't take long. By age 23 Crosby was addressing Congress and making friendships with presidents. In fact, she knew all the chief executives of her lifetime, especially Grover Cleveland, who served as secretary for the Institute for the Blind before his election.
Another member of the institute, former pupil Alexander van Alstine, married Crosby in 1858. Considered one of New York's best organists, he wrote the music to many of Crosby's hymns. Crosby herself put music to only a few of hers, though she played harp, piano, guitar, and other instruments. More often, musicians came to her for lyrics. For example, one day musician William Doane dropped by her home for a surprise visit, begging her to put some words to a tune he had recently written and which he was to perform at an upcoming Sunday School convention. The only problem was that his train to the convention was leaving in 35 minutes. He sat at the piano and played the tune.
"Your music says, 'Safe in the Arms of Jesus,'" Crosby said, scribbling out the hymn's words immediately. "Read it on the train and hurry. You don't want to be late!" The hymn became one of Crosby's most famous.
Though she was under contract to submit three hymns a week to her publisher and often wrote six or seven a day (for a dollar or two each), many became incredibly popular. When Dwight Moody and Ira Sankey began to use them in their crusades, they received even more attention. Among them are "Blessed Assurance," "All the Way My Savior Leads Me," "To God Be the Glory," "Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior," "Safe in the Arms of Jesus," "Rescue the Perishing," and "Jesus Keep Me Near the Cross."
She could write very complex hymns and compose music with a more classical structure (she could even improvise it), but she preferred to write simple, sentimental verses that could be used for evangelism. She continued to write her poetry up to her death, a month shy of her ninety-fifth birthday. "You will reach the river brink, some sweet day, bye and bye," was her last stanza.
iwo jima and the monumental sacrifice
âSome people wonder all their lives if they made a difference,â Ronald Reagan once said. Then he added, âThe Marines donât have that problem.â That was certainly true of the Marines who fought and died on a little island called Iwo Jima seventy years ago now. In the final phase of the war in the Pacific, Iwo Jima was strategic and essential to America and Japan â and it would cost them both dearly. Two out of every three Marines on Iwo Jima were killed or wounded before the Americans took the island. The fierce, heroic struggle was captured in what would become the most famous photograph of the war: Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima, taken on Mount Suribachi on February 23, 1945. Joe Rosenthalâs photograph, like the larger-than-life men he captured on camera, became the basis for the Marine Corps War Memorial in Arlington, Virginia. Though dedicated to the service and sacrifice of the Marines in all of Americaâs wars, it is still often referred to simply as the âIwo Jima Memorial.â It is the tallest bronze statue in the world. The soldier figures are each over thirty feet tall, and the rifles are sixteen feet long. Photographs, to use Lance Morrowâs phrase, âimprison time in a rectangle,â but they can never tell the whole story. Raising the flag on Mount Suribachi wasnât the moment of victory â a triumphant point between war and peace. Three of the six men who raised the flag on February 23 would be killed in action on Iwo Jima in a battle that would rage on for another month. The flag represented hope when it was raised â it did not represent victory. Worthy Sacrifices The last time I visited the Iwo Jima monument, it was a lovely evening in Arlington. Visitors who walked around the base of the great bronze spoke with hushed voices. Even the selfie-snapping was reserved. The bronze giants basked in the warmth of the last light, and the flag snapped in the wind, much like the first time. It made me feel proud and humble at the same time. From the bluff, I could see across the Potomac the tops of Americaâs other monuments huddled along the great expanse leading to the Capitol. Marble and bronze â the stuff of enduring memory â worthy of the sacrifices they commemorate. At the time I was at Arlington, Christians were being shot, beheaded, even crucified by the Islamic State, and whole Christian populations were being utterly obliterated in Syria and Iraq. I thought to myself, âWhereâs the monument to their sacrifice? Whatâs left for the generations to follow to remember?â Tragically, all that remains are smoldering ruins, bloodstains, and boot prints, as their killers move on. Sometimes, even less than that remains. In November, a Christian couple in Pakistan were incinerated. Hereâs their story. The Barbarians Are Back Debt peonage has long existed in Pakistan, keeping generations of Christians in slavery working in the brick kilns. Once I walked through such a slave colony near Lahore when the master was away in order to hear the workersâ stories. Little children stacked bricks, men tended the massive furnace firing the bricks, and women washed clothes in a stream that doubled as the sewer. It was in this same area last November that two brick workers, Shahzad Masih and his wife Shama, were killed. They were in a debt dispute with their owner, and in order to settle the score, he accused them of blasphemy, of burning pages of the Koran. The blasphemy law in Pakistan is a convenient way of dealing with inconvenient people and usually works like this: kill first, then maybe ask questions later. The setting was readymade for a mob. Bricks were handy for stoning, the legs of the husband and wife were broken so they couldnât escape, and then they were thrown into the furnace. Shahzad and his wife, who was five months pregnant, were burned to ash. This didnât happen centuries ago in barbaric times â it happened in November. The barbarians are back. Tragically, the murders of Shahzad and his wife are just more of the same. In the past three years alone, between the work of ISIS and other al-Qaeda franchises, the number of Christians killed or displaced in Iraq and Syria is in the tens of thousands, including hundreds of girls taken as sex slaves for the fighters. In sub-Saharan Africa, more than seven thousand Christians have been killed by Boko Haram and al-Shabaab in the past three years. When We Hear of Persecution Itâs understandable that these al-wannabes tend to sound alike â their handiwork certainly tends to look alike. After more than a decade in the new world disorder, they are just names and numbers on the news crawl, accompanied with a blur of blood and bombs, of gun-toting âspiritual leadersâ doing selfies on YouTube as they crow about their latest kill. I think of the lines from a Patty Griffin song, âThereâs a million sad stories on the side of the road. Strange how we all just got used to the blood.â The unspeakable seems unanswerable; and so we shrug. What can  we say? What can  we do that would make any difference? As Christians we must not look at persecution as just âbad things happening to good people.â And we shouldnât look away either. Christian persecution is tied to the very work and nature of the gospel. Here are three truths to remember when we hear of Christian persecution, whether in distant places or when it comes to our own shores. 1. We are vitally linked to our suffering brothers and sisters. âRemember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the bodyâ (Hebrews 13:3). This is why we pray, why we speak, and why we hurt alongside suffering Christians â they are family. Through the power of the gospel, our lives are forever bound up in Christâs life and, therefore, forever bound up with all other believers as well. 2. God is glorified, and his gospel advances, when his people demonstrate trust, love, and grace as they suffer for him. âI want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel, so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to all the rest that my imprisonment is for Christ. And most of the brothers, having become confident in the Lord by my imprisonment, are much more bold to speak the word without fearâ (Philippians 1:12â14). Persecution has many outcomes â sometimes they donât make sense to us. But clearly, one of the outcomes is gospel advance. Saul-the-Persecutor-turned-Paul-the-Preacher was a powerful demonstration of this truth. In our day, he would have been the equivalent of an al-Qaeda commander; so his conversion was the talk of the town. âThey only were hearing it said, âHe who used to persecute us is now preaching the faith he once tried to destroy.â And they glorified God because of meâ (Galatians 1:23â24). Samuel Zwemer, the apostle to Arabia, with his âBig God, Big Gospelâ perspective on the long campaign of Kingdom advance could write, When you read in reports of troubles and opposition, of burning up books, imprisoning colporteurs, and expelling workers, you must not think that the gospel is being defeated. It is conquering. What we see under such circumstances is only the dust in the wake of the ploughman. God is turning the world upside down that it may be right side up when Jesus comes. He that plougheth should plough in hope. We may not be able to see a harvest yet in this country, but furrow after furrow, the soil is getting ready for the seed. 3. Persecution is linked to Christâs persecution. âGod is turning the world upside down that it may be right side up when Jesus comes.â âBeloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christâs sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealedâ (1 Peter 4:12â13). Suffering that comes for the sake of his name is Christ-like. And so there is, in fact, a monument to Christian sacrifice â it is the cross, in all its blood-stained splendor. Unlike the inspiring flag-raising on Iwo Jima, when the cross was raised, it seemed to symbolize only defeat and death. Yet, secured by Sovereign Love and the empty tomb, Christâs work was so complete that everyone who comes to him will live forever. This is the reward of the Lambâs suffering. Only he could heal the hurt of his people, turning their sorrow into song and their death into life.