Communion Journal


Arose this morning to find Ellie already up and reading scriptures. What a wonderful thing to have a wife who loves Jesus and His testimonies: that one room away, His Holy Spirit is moving in her, giving her communion. Perhaps, I am soft already this morning just from that thought?

Alas, reading the word for myself proved it not so. How can I be soft yet have hardness towards His testimonies? I prayed, “holy, holy, Lord God almighty,” endeavoring to think of other men who have called and do call God holy. My mind settled on John Paton in his tree on Tanna. What a kind and gracious God, to give Paton peace in all his troubles. He walked with God, may not I? Will God not be as kind to me? He will! and I may! How shall we not here abide. Taste and see oh ye nations—the Lord is good to those that taste of Him. Prom Psa. 101:2, He answered me, this morning, speedily when I called.
For reference, Paton describes his tree:

“The hours I spent there live all before me as if it were but of yesterday. I heard the frequent discharging of muskets, and the yells of the Savages. Yet I sat there among the branches, as safe as in the arms of Jesus. Never, in all my sorrows, did my Lord draw nearer to me, and speak more soothingly in my soul, than when the moonlight flickered among those chestnut leaves, and the night air played on my throbbing brow, as I told all my heart to Jesus. Alone, yet not alone! If it be to glorify my God, I will not grudge to spend many nights alone in such a tree, to feel again my Savior’s spiritual presence, to enjoy His consoling fellowship. If thus thrown back upon your own soul, alone, all alone, in the midnight, in the bush, in the very embrace of death itself, have you a Friend that will not fail you then?”

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By Mike

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He died for us, that we should not live unto ourselves, but unto him that so dies for us, and by virtue of whose death we live.

— John Owen