What May Have Never Been

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As I cast mine eyes upon the year's record, now full thirteen months since we first convened to ponder the Eternal Word in February last, a holy wonder doth seize my soul. A humble tally reveals nigh on two hundred assemblies in that brief span! Until this very eve, I confess I grasped not the sheer immensity of the Almighty's mercies, the great graces He hath poured out upon us. Had I but glimpsed this undertaking from the outset, surely, my own timorous heart would have quailed with double fear! Bless the name of the Lord, who, in my protracted season of seeking wisdom concerning our former affiliation, sent me godly counsel—pastors and brethren overflowing with truth, love, and, most crucially, the Scriptures themselves. It would be more sinful to remain when God was bidding me to leave. Better far to be divided by the Truth than to be held fast in unity by error!

Our Heavenly Father hath been pleased to bridge the chasm 'twixt holy writ and our present lives, correcting the very motives of our hearts, ushering us into awe-filled new knowledge of Him, and burdening us with care for yet more dear souls. As I survey this wondrous handiwork, I am tempted to cry, "It is enough, O Lord!" But the work, I now know, is never measured by what I can render unto Him, but by the burden He, in His sovereign will, chooses to lay upon me. Greater the charge, greater still the attending grace! The instrument—the very servant—is naught. The work, the choice, the equipping, rests wholly and securely upon God alone, who deigns to send whom He will send.

A profound disquiet doth cling to my mortal thoughts. I confess, the very prospect of seeing sixty summers on this terrestrial sphere fills my heart with a peculiar dread! Ah, were it mine to choose, I would gladly take my leave ere that season, for sixty years amounts to but three thousand and one hundred and thirty weeks—a mere flicker! If my numbered days indeed stretch nine years further, that leaves me but four hundred and sixty-nine weeks to live my all before I stand to render my final account unto the Lord of Hosts!

'Tis not the scant remaining time that troubles my breast, nor the work that the Almighty might accomplish through this frail vessel. Nay! My deepest terror is my own wretched capacity for sin, lest I grievously fail and bring dishonour upon my blessed Father's name! O Lord, my eyes are fixed solely upon Thee! How desperate, how utterly profound is my daily need for Thy sustaining grace, a need that pierces deeper than my poor mind can fathom!

Come the middle of the next month, the Lord granting me breath, I shall embark upon a work both terrifying and fraught with equal peril. A mighty burden hath been laid upon my spirit of late, and my soul is sorely anxious until I may earnestly seek His guiding hand concerning it. Yet, of one thing I am certain: this desire for such an undertaking did not spring from this sin-cursed heart; it was given. I would never presume to choose such a task for myself. 

But, ah, what a good thing it is for His holy Name's sake that I shall ask. For is not our Father the Bountiful Giver of all good things that we beseech in the name of His only Son? In Him alone is my trust, and my hope is made sure.

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