Читать книгу I didn´t ask to be gold - Patricia Adrianzén de Vergara - Страница 8

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I DIDN´T ASK TO BE GOLD

The crucible for silver and the furnace for gold, but the Lord tests the heart.

(Proverbs 17:3)

I didn’t ask to be gold. I didn’t even aspire to be silver. I would have been content to be a simple, inexpensive metal, whose brilliance could be seen every once in a while glinting in the sun. I was not particularly interested in the shine or the quality of my material; I had my place in the world and that was enough. To leave the dark mine was my greatest desire. Why should I look beyond that? I had been rescued, processed, cleaned, and converted into an instrument that He could use. I thought that was enough, but God had greater plans. Only He knew my imperfections and my impurities, and only He could have thought to transform, transmute, and purify me in the way He did. I was involuntarily taken into the crucible.

When I began to suffer, I submitted meekly. I knew that a little pain was necessary to grow and mature, to know more of His power and strength.

I thought that learning would be easy and that God would measure out the suffering in doses according to my capacity, that He would not give me more that I could bear, as His Word says.[1] But when I understood that the pain would continue, and my limits were not in accordance with His limits, nor my thoughts with His thoughts, then I resisted. Often, I wanted to leave the crucible and escape from His will. I complained, rebuking Him for not being faithful to His own Word about suffering, that suffering would overwhelm me. I began to feel defeated and loosened from His grip, and I wanted to enclose myself in a cocoon.

But He never abandoned me; He was always faithful, always by my side. He controlled the temperature of the fire so that I truly would not suffer more than I was able to endure. I didn’t understand that immediately. As the days passed, He gave me the assurance of His love. I needed to learn so much, and there was no other way without experiencing it myself. How else could my faith be strengthened? How else could my dependence on Him mature and my self-sufficiency end? How could He perfect my maternal love? How would I be able to console and even teach others in the future, without these experiences? How would I be able to break down the pride of my heart, which rose up against His promises? How would I understand the spiritual world and its struggles if I had not fought any battles?[2] How would I finally know God’s power? Only by trusting, waiting, praying, and depending uniquely and exclusively on His grace.

For all these reasons, I had to recognize at last that His crucible and His fiery furnace are proofs of His love. He never leaves us alone. He is always very close to us, catching each tear, providing at the same time the rest and stillness that our soul needs.

Therefore, I must thank Him for His intent I making me into a precious metal, when my eyes could not see anything past the dull shine of my little-valued self.