Do Not Lose Heart by L.B. Cowman

Do not lose heart. — 2 Corinthians 4:6

Do Not Lose Heart by L.B. Cowman, from Springs in the Valley

Do not lose heart. — 2 Corinthians 4:16 One day a naturalist, out in his garden, observed a most unusually large and beautiful butterfly, fluttering as though in great distress; it seemed to be caught as though it could not release itself. The naturalist, thinking to release the precious thing, took hold of the wings and set it free. It flew but a few feet and fell to the ground dead. He picked up the poor thing, took it into his laboratory, and put it under a magnifying glass to discover the cause of its death. There he found the lifeblood flowing from the tiny arteries of its wings. Nature had fastened it to its chrysalis and was allowing it to flutter and flutter so that its wings might grow strong. It was the muscle-developing process that nature was giving the dear thing so that it might have an unusual range among the flowers and gardens. If it had only fluttered long enough, the butterfly would have come forth ready for the wide range; but release ended the beautiful dream. So with God’s children: how the Father wishes for them wide ranges in experience and truth. He permits us to be fastened to some form of struggle. We would tear ourselves free. We cry out in our distress and sometimes think Him cruel that He does not release us. He permits us to flutter and flutter on. Struggle seems to be His program sometimes. Prayer alone will hold us steady while in the struggles, so we keep sweet and learn, oh, such wonderful lessons. God laid upon my back a grievous load, A heavy cross to bear along the road. I staggered on, and lo! one weary day, An angry lion sprang across my way. I prayed to God, and swift at His command The cross became a weapon in my hand. It slew my raging enemy, and then Became a cross upon my back again. I reached a desert. O’er the burning track I persevered, the cross upon my back. No shade was there, and in the cruel sun I sank at last, and thought my days were done. But lo! the Lord works many a blest surprise — The cross became a tree before my eyes! I slept; I woke, to feel the strength of ten. I found the cross upon my back again. And thus through all my days from then to this, The cross, my burden, has become my bliss. Nor ever shall I lay the burden down, For God someday will make the cross a crown! ~Amos R. Wells You are bound to a cross. I entreat you not to struggle. The more lovingly the cross is carried by the soul, the lighter it becomes! Excerpted with permission from Springs in the Valley by L. B. E. Cowman, copyright Zondervan.