We who follow the Crucified are not here to make a pleasant thing of life; we are called to suffer for the sake of a suffering, sinful world. The Lord forgive us our shameful evasions and hesitations. His brow was crowned with thorns; do we seek rose-buds for our crowning? His hands were pierced with nails; are our hands ringed with jewels? His feet were bare and bound; do our feet walk delicately? What do we know of travail? of tears that scald before they fall? of heartbreak? of being scorned? God forgive us our love of ease. God forgive us that so often we turn our faces from a life that is even remotely like His. Forgive us that we all but worship comfort, the delight of the presence of loved ones, possessions, treasure on earth. Far, far from our prayers too often is any thought of prayer for a love which will lead us to give one whom we love to follow our Lord to Gethsemane, to Calvary – perhaps because we have never been there ourselves.
 

     Lord, we kneel beside Thee now, with hands folded between Thy hands as a child’s are folded in its mother’s. We would follow the words of Thy prayer, dimly understanding their meaning, but wanting to understand. . . .  “That the love wherewith Thou has loved Me may be in them, and I in them.”

-From Gold by Moonlight by Amy Carmichael

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It’s obvious, if you have read this blog for any length of time, that Amy Carmichael is one of my favorite authors. She’s not a favorite author of mine just because she wrote good books, but because she lived what she wrote. So many good biographies have been written about her that I will not attempt an exhaustive one here, but I will try to bring out the defining characteristics of her life that made her stand out in her generation.

      Amy Carmichael was not exactly missionary material when she was young. Her childhood as the oldest of seven children was full of escapades and adventures of the naughtiest kind. From eating laburnum pods to sliding down the slate roof of her childhood home, the Carmichael household never had any lack of excitement. As Amy grew up, however, her life took a much different turn.

     Amy’s youth was a very ordinary one. She went to boarding school, participated in social activities, and helped her family. Nothing significantly distinguished her from the other girls of her day. God had different plans for her, however. Amy describes in her own words the moment that changed her life forever:

     It was a dull Sunday morning in a street in Belfast . . . My brothers and sisters and I were returning with our mother from church when we met a poor, pathetic old woman who was carrying a heavy bundle. We had never seen such a thing in Presbyterian Belfast on Sunday, and, moved by sudden pity, my brothers and I turned with her, relieved her of the bundle, took her by her arms as though they had been handles, and helped her along. This meant facing all the respectable people who were, like ourselves, on their way home. It was a horrid moment. We were only two boys and a girl, and not at all exalted Christians. We hated doing it. Crimson all over (at least we felt crimson, souls and body of us) we plodded on, a wet wind blowing us about, and blowing, too, the rags of that poor old woman, till she seemed like a bundle of feathers and we unhappily mixed up with them. But just as we passed a fountain, recently built near the curbstone, this mighty phrase was suddenly flashed as it were through the grey drizzle:

     “Gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble – every man’s work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is. If any man’s work abide-”

     If any man’s work abide: I turned to see the voice that spoke with me. The fountain, the muddy street, the people with their politely surprised faces, all this I saw, but saw nothing else. The blinding flash had come and gone; the ordinary was all about us. We went on. I said nothing to anyone, but I knew that something had happened that had changed life’s values. Nothing could ever matter again but the things that were eternal. (From Gold Cord by Amy Carmichael)

     Few young women value eternal things. Elisabeth Elliot expresses it well in A Chance to Die, her biography of Amy Carmichael: The preoccupations of seventeen-year-old girls – their looks, their clothes, their social life – do not change very much from generation to generation. But in every generation there seem to be a few who make other choices. Amy was one of the few.

     When in her twenties, Amy felt the call of God to lands where the Gospel was not known. Many opposed her idea of becoming a missionary. A doctor refused to approve her for mission work. Regardless of the obstacles, however, Amy still believed she should go.

     A scrap of paper given to Amy about this time reveals the scorching decision she was about to make:

CAN YE? Mark 10:38.
Can ye drink of the cup that I drink of? And be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?
CAN GOD? Psalm 78:19. Ye shall indeed . . . for with God all things are possible.
Now is my soul troubled – and what shall I say? Father, save me . . . Father, glorify Thy name. For this cause came I unto this hour. John 12:24-28.

     The decision was not simply whether or not to go overseas. The decision was, most of all, a decision to die. To deliberately leave behind every scrap of self and the world and sacrifice everything for the sake of the Savior. In a round-about way, this decision led her to the dark country of India.

      In India, Amy was not like most missionaries. She did not desire to live above and apart from her Indian brothers and sisters, nor would her truthful nature allow her to ignore the atrocities she witnessed. She wrote and published books and pamphlets that exposed and condemned the darkness around her and the spiritual incompetence of many missionaries. She did not turn a blind eye to corruption. When she learned of the use of children for immoral purposes in the temples, she did sit on her hands and do nothing.

      Amy and her small band of women began to pray. They prayed for a way to save these children caught up in an age-old practice of bondage. The first girl came to them entirely through a miracle. There was no other way to explain it. This little girl had heard of a “child-stealing ammal” and had decided that was the very person she wanted to find to escape the abuse of the temple. So, she walked away from the temple, found Amy and her band, climbed up into Amy’s lap and said, “My name is Pearl-eyes, and I want to stay here always. I have come to stay.”

     From that time forward Amy found her calling to be a mother. Not just to a few, but to thousands of children. Whenever she heard of a child that was about to be given to the temple, she or one of her workers would do everything possible to persuade the mother to give the child to them instead. It was extreme, heartbreaking work, but also full of happiness. The pictures and stories she tells of her children reveal a place full of laughter and joy. The Lord provided a permanent place in Dohnavur for this huge family, which eventually came to be known as the Dohnavur Fellowship.

     Amy’s active work with children came to an abrupt end at the age of 64 when she broke a leg in an accident. She never recovered enough to return to her former activities and was essentially bed-ridden for the remaining 20 years of her life. The story of her life would not be complete, however, without taking note of this spiritually fruitful period. The books she wrote from her bed have been a comfort to sufferers everywhere since then. Those years, in the providence of God, were not wasted.

     This brief biography hardly does justice to such a life as Amy Carmichael’s. It is often easy for us to think that a life such as hers is too complicated, difficult, and out of reach for us to emulate. Yet, when I read her books, I do not find her life to be something other than human. Amy Carmichael’s “secret” was simple: she loved Jesus, and when He called, she said “yes”. Hers was a life of obedience, completely set apart for God. She chose suffering without complaint. She shared what God had given to her with others.

     In closing, I will share a poem that I believe expresses the essence of Amy’s life:

From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher,
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.

From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
Not thus are spirits fortified,
Not this way went the Crucified,
From all that dims Thy Calvary,
O Lamb of God, deliver me.

Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay,
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire,
Let me not sink to be a clod:
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God.

Amy Carmichael of Dohnavur by Frank Houghton
Gold Cord: The Story of a Fellowship by Amy Carmichael
More books by Amy Carmichael

Books by Amy Carmichael available for free:
From Sunrise Land: Letters from Japan
Things as they are: Mission work in southern India
Overweights of Joy
Lotus Buds

“For their sakes I sanctify Myself, that they themselves also may be sanctified in truth.”–JOHN xvii. 19.

     “The most precious fragment of the past,” is the unstinted eulogium which a thoughtful man has passed on this transcendent prayer; transcending in its scope of view, its expressions, its tender pathos, all other prayers of which we have record.

     Its primary characteristic is timelessness.  Though uttered within a few hours of Calvary, it contains thoughts and expressions which must have been familiar to our Lord at any moment during the centuries which have followed.  As we study it, therefore, we are listening to words
which have been uttered many times on our behalf, and will be uttered until we are with Him, where He is, beholding the glory of the Divine Son, superadded to that of the Perfect Servant.

     The R. V. margin substitutes the word consecrate for sanctify, and it probably conveys a better meaning, because devotion to the will of God is prominent, rather than the holiness of personal character. Devotion to God’s will is the primary thought suggested by the word; but of course it involves a blameless and spotless character.  Thus we might read the words, “For their sakes I consecrate Myself, that they also may be consecrated in truth.”  Through the dim twilight the Lord clearly foresaw what was awaiting Him–the agony and bloody sweat, the cross and passion, the foresakenness and travail of His soul.  The cross with out-stretched arms waited to receive Him; the midnight darkness to engulf Him, the murderous band to wreak their hate on the unresisting Lamb–and yet He flinched not, but went right forward,
consecrating Himself.

I. THE SUBJECTS OF CHRIST’S SOLICITUDE.–In the earlier verses the Lord speaks of Himself, of His finished work, of the glory which He had left, of that to which He went, asking only that He might be able to glorify the Father in every movement of His coming sorrow (1-5).

     Then He launches Himself on the full current of intercession, and pleads for those who had been given to Him, as distinguished from the world of men out of which they had come.  Evidently the same thought was in His mind as inspired His words in John x., when He spoke of the sheep whom the Father had given to Him, that He might give them eternal life (27-29).  And it may be that each of these two utterances was inspired by older words yet, that Zechariah had addressed to the poor of the flock when he cut asunder his two slaves, Beauty and Bands (Zech. xi. 7-14).

     The underlying conception in all these passages seems to be that the Father has entrusted to the special keeping of Jesus certain elect spirits having an affinity to His nature, and who should stand in the inner circle to Him because associated with Him from high redemptive
purpose.  All souls are God’s by right of creation, and all are included in the redemption wrought on the cross; but not all had been included in the Divine gift of which Jesus speaks, “Thine they were, and Thou gavest them Me.”  We conclude that in the eternity of the past, as the Father beheld all future things as though they were present, and surveyed the vast multitudes of the human family, He discerned those who would be attracted by indissoluble union with His Son, manifest in the flesh; and whom He did foreknow, these also He did
predestinate to be His flock, His brethren and sisters, His chosen band of associates in His redemptive purpose.  These were the subjects of His powerful solicitude, “I make request, not for the world, but for those whom Thou hast given Me.”

     What then?  Did not God care for the world?  Certainly.  He so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son.

     How then can we reconcile the love of God to the world with the selection of some as the flock of the Lamb, whilst the great world seems expressly excluded from His prayer?  That question is fitly put. The emphasis is on the word seems.  It is only to the superficial view that the world is excluded.  Are the planets excluded from the law of gravitation because suns are filled with fire and light?  Are the lower orders of creation excluded from the circle of enjoyment because man with his high organization is more richly endowed than they?  Are
sufferers excluded from the healing virtues of nature because a comparative few are specially qualified as surgeons and physicians? Can a missionary be charged with neglecting a dark continent because he concentrates thought and care on a few elect spirits gathered around
him?  For instance, could Columba be held guilty of neglecting the Picts and Scots when on Iona’s lone isle he focused his care upon the handful of followers who assembled around the ancient pile, whose ruins are his lasting memorial?  There is but one answer to these questions.
Election is not exclusive, but inclusive.  Its purpose is not primarily the salvation or delectation of the few, but their equipment to become the apostles to the many.  And if Jesus thought, cared, and prayed so much for those whom the Father had given Him, His ulterior thought was
that the world might believe that the Father had sent Him (ver. 21). If then it should be proved that you, my reader, are not included in the band of the given ones, that would not necessarily involve you in the eternal condemnation and loss of the future; though it would exclude you from sharing with Christ in His lofty mission to the sons of men.

And yet Love found me needing Him. He stayed;
Love stayed by me.
“Let not thy heart be troubled or dismayed,
My child,” said He.
Slipped from me then all troubles, all alarms,
For Love had gathered me into His arms.

-From Gold by Moonlight by Amy Carmichael

Picture from FreeFoto.com

My favorite links for this week:

1. Read about a day in my life.

2. Read about modern-day lepers.

3. Reflections on gracefulness.

If Thou, dear Jesus, wert on earth
In human form, how soon my feet
Should run to seek Thee; how my heart
Would listen to Thy counsels sweet.

This leisure hour would soon slip by;
If in it I might speak to Thee,
If I might tell Thee of my love,
And know that Thou wert near to me.

But since Thou art not here on earth
In human form, yet still draw nigh
By Thy blest Spirit, let me feel
The Son of David passes by.

Give me some token that Thou still
Canst look from heavenly heights above
With the same pitying tenderness,
Which once filled earth with sacred love.

I long to feel Thee near, to know
That I a sinner, yet am Thine,
And what is more, beyond a doubt,
To know that Thou art truly mine.

To know and feel Thee just as near
As they who once embraced Thy feet,
Who oft beheld Thy sacred form,
At pleasure could their Master greet.

Ah nothing less can satisfy
The heart that hungers so for Thee,
But waking in Thy likeness, Lord,
From sin and sense forever free.

-From Golden hours: Heart-hymns of the Christian life
by

Elizabeth Prentiss

Picture from FreeFoto.com