From Phillip Britts . . .
“True expectancy, the waiting that is genuine and from the heart, is brought about by the coming of the Holy Spirit, by God coming to us, and not by our own devices.
Spiritual depth, if it is true, is the working of God coming down and penetrating to the depths of our hearts, and not of our own soul’s climbing. No ladder of mysticism can ever meet or find or possess God.
Given to Us
Faith is a power given to us. It is never simply our ability or strength of will to believe. The spiritual experience that is truly genuine is given to us by God and the coming of his Spirit, and only as we surrender our whole lives to an expression of his will . . .
To put it quite simply, spiritual experience, whether it be of faith, hope (or expectancy) or love, is something we cannot manufacture, but which we can only receive. If we direct our lives to seeking it, for ourselves we shall lose it, but if we lose our lives by living out the daily way of Christ we shall find it.”
Jesus is God’s gift of love to us.
Faith is also God’s gift to us (1 Cor. 12:8-9). The gift of faith is the ability to envision what needs to be done and to trust God to accomplish it even though it seems impossible to most people.
We seem to have different measures of faith.
There are those who believe the truth about the gospel and have declared their faith in Jesus as Savior and Lord, and have received his grace and forgiveness, and the assurance of life forever with Him.
Big Prayers - Big Dreams
On the other end of the spectrum there are those who view obstacles as opportunities for God to accomplish the impossible. They pray big prayers and dream big dreams; they are optimistic, persevering, “hopeless romantics in the Gospel,” convinced in the truth and power of God and his Word.
Apart from Him . . .
Take a few moments with God, humbly acknowledging that “apart from him you can do nothing” — even believe in Him!
Thank Him for the measure of faith He has given you.
If you are willing, pray this prayer: “Lord, increase my faith today. I believe, but help me in my unbelief.” (Warning: Asking for such a thing may result in circumstances requiring you to have more faith.)
Farmer-poet Philip Britts was born in 1917 in Devon, England. Britts became a pacifist, joined the Bruderhof, and during World War II moved to South America. There, in 1949, he died of a rare tropical illness at the age of 31, leaving his wife, Joan, with three young children and fourth on the way.