Beginning Our Lyrical Log House Life – Our Journey of Surprising Grace, #37
Our doubts are traitors,
and make us lose the good
we oft might win
by fearing to attempt.
(William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure)
In late August of 1992 we moved into our dream home. The year leading up to this move had been one that seriously tested our faith, both in our Lord and in ourselves. With a careful plan of how to proceed, I had quit my full-time job and embraced freelance writing and ministry. That plan was soon in tatters. City real estate hit the skids. Part-time jobs I had counted on fell through. Savings evaporated. With growing frustration, we had surveyed the best part of a hundred country properties until we discovered this log gem. It was three thousand square feet constructed of Quebec-style squared and chinked hemlock logs. Although beyond our reach, God had once again done the unexpected. And thus began what I like to call, “our lyrical period” of living in the Northumberland Hills.
Why lyrical? I’m not poetic, but the song of birds, the wind in the pines, and the gurgle of streams in our corner of Ontario almost made me break out in song myself. And the log house made me want to wax poetic. Ok, it was not perfect. Crickets kept us awake some nights. It was not on the shore of a lake. The road might be treacherous in winter. But we had easy access to the Ganaraska Forest on the one hand and ports along Lake Ontario on the other. We could have hardly been led to a more ideal spot, and in a part of Ontario about which we knew nothing.
During that first week, I would often stop to stare around at the honey-coloured log walls, and the massive posts and beams that supported the thick polished planks of the upper floor. I’d gaze at the wood stove in the corner and imagine the warmth of wood heat in the winter. I’d look through the windows and plan what kind of flowers to plant.
How could this be happening to us? I’d think back over our lives. There had been times of scarcity, danger, loss, failure, and discouragement. But overwhelmingly, God had given us over and above what we could ask or think in ministry opportunities, in friends, in each other, and in the surprising provision for our needs. From falling in love with each other to our three children and nine grandchildren, from missionary service in Pakistan with the beginnings of the TEE program to inheriting a house when we had no retirement fund to use for even a down payment; from pastoring a church to a sabbatical in the Smokies God had demonstrated his extravagant grace. I guess, by this time, we should not have been surprised by his gracious goodness but his gifts were so frequently beyond our imaginations. Like many saints before us we would often ask, “Why us Lord?” The answer is hidden in the unfathomable love and grace of our Triune God. “For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever! Amen” (Rom. 11:36).
Although I soon became very busy juggling teaching and pastoral ministry, country living fascinated us. Heaven seemed closer among the hills and pines of Northumberland than along the paved streets and among the concrete towers of Toronto. Out here we seemed closer to what David wrote; “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech” (Psalm 19:1,2). It reminded me of the hymn, This Is My Father’s World.
This is my Father’s world,
And to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings
The music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world:
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas–
His hand the wonders wrought.
What of the millions, I thought, who are deaf to the “music of the spheres”? I pondered how I could pique the interest of the irreligious in our society. To that end, I began to gather material that would later become Through A Country Window. It would become one of my first attempts at writing a volume for a general audience. From this fertile soil also germinated the idea of turning from solely writing books on Christian subjects to writing novels that would have general appeal.
But we had other concerns besides listening to birdsong and exploring the hills. We were still under orders to “seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness.” Many churches were without pastors and needed someone to fill in as interim while they searched for a new senior pastor. We had barely moved into Hemlock Meadow before Bloomfield Baptist Church asked me to serve as interim. A new term was also beginning at Toronto Baptist Seminary where I taught missions.
Bloomfield was a hundred kilometers from our home near Garden Hill. While the drive on Sunday morning required getting an early start, the scenery along the way made it relaxing. We soon became acquainted with another group of God’s people and the charm of Prince Edward County where they lived. The County, as residents call it, is also called Quinte’s Isle since it juts into Lake Ontario and has 500 kms of shoreline. In the years since our acquaintance, it has become a popular tourist destination.
In spite of my normal nervousness before preaching, I discovered considerable liberty in preaching about the wonderful character of God in the morning and the intriguing lives of OT characters in the evening. I have never found preaching easy but I have been encouraged to learn that many, including Spurgeon, dealt with depression and anxiety and yet yielded themselves to this high calling. I have concluded that God wants to ensure that we who preach put our confidence in him, not in ourselves.
We continued in Bloomfield until February of 1993, when we flew to Sahiwal, a hundred miles south of Lahore in Pakistan. Previous to accepting the interim pastoral position, we had been engaged by the Associate Reformed Presbyterian Church in Pakistan to minister for four months. Mary Helen helped teach girls in various short-term Bible Schools and I taught theology in Kalam Seminary.
The Christian life is an adventure and a challenge. One never knows what God may have for us around the next corner.
“Security is mostly superstition.
It does not exist in nature.
Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”
(Helen Keller)
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