Moses and Israel had seen God triumph over "horse and its rider" and bury the Egyptians in the sea. They paused for a moment to sing the "Song of Redemption" (Exodus 15:1-18), then dry-marched three days through the desert to an oasis where they expected to find water. There was water, but it was bad water and left a bitter taste. God's people began to mutter among themselves and murmer against Moses. "What are you going to do now?" they grumbled; "What are we going to drink?" Moses didn't have a clue. Then the Lord pointed out a tree to Moses--a rugged piece of wood that grew beside the oasis--and told Moses to throw it into the water--which he did, "and the water became sweet."
Joy and sorrow are often juxtaposed. How quickly our enjoyment can turn into bitterness. One minute we're singing the Song of Redemption; the next minute we're crying the blues, complaining about our circumstances. muttering over our lot and allowing the bitterness of the moment to seep into our souls. The power of these foul moods is that they make the old self seem right in its insistence that we were made for comfort and ease and that present evil is depriving us of the good life. "It isn't fair!" we complain, then sulk and pout. We grow more embittered and rancorous with every memory; we lapse into lethargy and depression. (Rage and resentment will always get you down.) There is, however, a tree, which, when cast into our bitter waters can make them sweet. It is the cross--that symbol of acceptance, our utter submission to the will of God. The cross means for us what it meant for Christ--to will one thing. As Jesus said when he willingly stretched himself out on his tree, "Not my will but yours be done."
F. B Meyers has written, "It is in proportion as we see God's will in the various events of life and surrender ourselves either to bear it or do it, that we shall find earth's bitter circumstances becoming sweet and its hard things easy."
It may be that our bitterness comes from the ill-will of others or from their daily neglect. It may come from a difficult and demanding relationship or an adversary that will not go away. It may come from bitter regret and disappointment over what might have been, what would have been, if only someone had been less self-absorbed.
We can sweeten that bitterness if we choose to see each circumstance as God's choice for us and willingly accept it--say "yes" to him and to his will. He has chosen this difficult place for us; he has permitted this intrusion; it is his will that we are here. "Disappointment is his appointment,"as someone has said.
The painful event may seem cruel and capricious but it is not; it has been screened through infinite wisdom and love long before it ever reached us. It is not the ill-will of an adversary, but the gracious will of a Father and Friend.
Since he is so good God will not leave us in the lurch nor will he ever forsake us. He will keep us in his love. He will teach us the lessons he intends us to learn. He will work in us the changes he wants to make. He will give us the grace we need to be very brave in the midst of our calamities and behave as a one of his sons. And then in his good time--in this life or in the next--he will deliver us from evil.
And so, as F. B. Meyer says, we are here in this place, whatever it may be, "by (God's) appointment, in his keeping, under his tutelage, for his time." In this we must rest.
He said, "I will accept the breaking sorrow Which God tomorrow Will to his son explain." Then did the turmoil deep within him cease. Not vain the word: vain, vain; For in acceptance lieth peace. --Amy Carmichael
David Roper
2/2/97