than to trust in man.
It is better to take refuge in the Lord
than to trust in princes. (Psalm 118:8–9)
You did not choose solitude.
You never thought you’d have so few friends by your side — especially now. In your moment of need, you’re left only questions. Trials fill the skies with arrows — you’re deserted in the dark. Where did they go?
This friendless path is well-worn.
Many of the faithful have traveled it before. Moses into the wilderness. Daniel into the lion’s den. David to face the giant. Elijah to challenge Ahab. Jeremiah into a pit. Micaiah to give the prophecy. Samuel to rebuke a king. Esther to make her request. John the Baptist into his cell. Paul to stand trial. Stephen to his stoning. John to his island. Saints have been made to stand, and often stand, alone. And none like our Lord on his way to the cross.
Many in ministry know this road. How quickly relationships within the church can burn the heart near to ashes. The church door is revolving. Members come and go; sometimes it’s hard not to take it personally. Grief and anger and self-pity mingle. We ask ourselves, “Many a man proclaims his own steadfast love, but a faithful man who can find?” (Proverbs 20:6). We cry, “Save, O Lord, for the godly one is gone; for the faithful have vanished from among the children of man” (Psalm 12:1). Our strength all but dries. How can we go on much longer?
Life can be lonely for a man of God. Not at all times, but at crucial times. And this is often God’s doing. He strips his men of even faithful friends in pivotal moments. Those who have been beside us for countless battles cannot go with us there. A day arrives when God shall again prove himself enough. Dependence upon man is chastened that the man of God might rest fully upon his Rock and his Redeemer. Paul illustrates:
At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me. May it not be charged against them! But the Lord stood by me and strengthened me. . . . So I was rescued from the lion’s mouth. (2 Timothy 4:16–17)
When lions prowl and friends fumble their farewells, the Lord stands by our side. And the lion’s mouth is shut.
Enfeebling Friendship
Tired saint, God is doing something in your loneliness; trust him. God is toughening you. God is teaching you. God is transforming you. The caterpillar must go into that dark place where none can follow to reemerge something higher.
“Life can be lonely for a man of God.”
Charles Spurgeon, no stranger to this sanctified confinement, calls what God is doing in such seasons the discipline of desertion. God strikes us through human mutability, soft betrayals, or unrequited love. Sails we relied upon fall.
What is God doing? He is teaching us vital lessons — lessons Spurgeon warns us not to forget.
Look back at that courageous hour, and now that you are surrounded by a goodly company of friends, think whether you have as simple a trust in God now as you manifested then. If you judge that you have, prove by your actions that you can still dare to go forward under difficulties, unshackled by dependence on an arm of flesh. The discipline of desertion ought not to have been lost upon you, you ought to be all the stronger for having been compelled to walk alone. The friendship of your fellows has been a loss rather than a gain if you cannot now wage single-handed battle as you did in former times. Are you now become slavishly dependent on an arm of flesh? If so, chide yourself by the memories of braver days.
Friendship can be enfeebling — if we let it. Brotherhood should be galvanizing and Godward, but if we let slip our faith-filled ruggedness, if the hands of our courage lose their callouses, if our firm trust in God depends on friends, our strength stagnates and withers.
God Is Our Strength
Isn’t this reflection summed up beautifully in Psalm 118? This may be the last song Jesus sang before his bloody, lonesome passion:
It is better to
take refuge in the Lord
than to trust in man.
It is better to take refuge in the Lord
than to trust in princes. (Psalm
118:8–9)
Men can be trustworthy and princes just — yet our Lord is always better. He is our fortress and our strength. He is untiring, unshakable, unfaltering. But we forget. The prince has done so much for us. So, our Lord rebukes all fleshly aid and leaves us only the bare and omnipotent arm of God.
Do you know this solitary road? Are you walking it now? Learn its lesson. Rest, trust, and wait on God.
Refreshing are the days when an Aaron and a Hur hold up our arms. Bright are the moments when Jonathan stands by our side. Better to have a fellow with you when you fall because he can pick you up — except at these times. These are times of testing, times of pruning, times of forging — some of the best times, in the end. Here, he makes soldiers. Here, he sharpens our service. Here, he reveals his all-sufficiency.
by Greg Morse,
a staff
writer for Desiring God and graduate of Bethlehem
College and Seminary. He and his wife, Abigail, live in Saint Paul with
their son and three daughters. Read more about
Greg.
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