Truth. It is undeniable. Regardless of what post-modernity would tell us, there is no escaping truth.

The Lord has been teaching this to me lately. I have been overwhelmed with what seems to have been both the most difficult and yet most wonderful 4 months of my life. Many changes, many difficulties, many blessings. Truthfully, I am tired.

I was thinking today, as I fought an on-coming migraine, and zombied through the first 4 hours of the morning, fixed breakfast, sorted and washed laundry, dressed little ones, and began picking up the endless amount of toys, books, and mis-matched socks that seem to accumulate in a matter of minutes, of truth.

I am feeling much.

I wished for 10 spare minutes to journal out my thoughts. That, I was sure, would be sufficient for the day. The Lord gave them, and I was left still feeling overwhelmed.

I wished for a quiet moment to read a Psalm, and pray it back to the Lord. Surely, if expressing my difficulties in my journal was not sufficient, that was truly what I needed. Does not the Lord bid us seek his face? The Lord gave that too, and I was refreshed, and encouraged, but my troubles did not disappear.

I wished for quiet. Naptime came.

I wished for a vacation. The Lord reminded me of the fun-filed day I was to have upon the morrow.

I wished for a moment to cast my cares upon him, and ask for grace for the rest of what was now becoming one of the longest days in my life. The Lord gave it all.

And here I am, finally humbled with the realization that though I wished and wished for my troubles to be solved in a dozen different ways, God had a better plan that has taught infinitely more.

Regardless of how I am feeling, His truth stands. How easy it is, sometimes, to listen to our feelings (girls, you know well what I mean!). (Yet even our own logic and reasoning can speak to us of what would be best for our lives.) How often, though, do we heed the simple truths of the gospel? When heart and head cannot unite, truth always stands resolute.

There are still 6 hours more to pass before the little ones will be put to bed, and the house will rest. I am sure I will wash another sinkful of dishes, pick up another pair of dirty socks, wipe yet another runny rose, and change half a dozen diapers. I am sure that the plans that I had for today will be thwarted, as they already have been, at least once more. And I am sure that in a moment of desparation I shall wish for something I don't have... and tomorrow it will all begin afresh!

Yet God bids us, trust. How could I doubt that He knows best?

'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, 
 and to take him at his word; 
 just to rest upon his promise, 
 and to know, "Thus saith the Lord." 

Refrain:
 Jesus, Jesus, how I trust him! 
 How I've proved him o'er and o'er! 
 Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus! 
 O for grace to trust him more! 

O how sweet to trust in Jesus, 
 just to trust his cleansing blood; 
 and in simple faith to plunge me 
 neath the healing, cleansing flood! 
 (Refrain) 

Yes, 'tis sweet to trust in Jesus, 
 just from sin and self to cease; 
 just from Jesus simply taking 
 life and rest, and joy and peace. 
 (Refrain) 

I'm so glad I learned to trust thee, 
 precious Jesus, Savior, friend; 
 and I know that thou art with me, 
 wilt be with me to the end. 
 (Refrain) 

There are few books in the English language that provide as much thought for the imagination, or as many intriguing characters as Jane Eyre. I recently finished reading the book, and of all that I've read none has struck me as this did. Jane Eyre was certainly an intriguing character and the way that Bronte captured her was thoroughly engrossing. Jane was grounded, deliberate, and principled, but not dull and stoic. In fact, she was full of passion and romance. It was Jane’s stay with the Rivers family that defined her life. She found family, occupation, comfort and prosperity.

The relationship between Jane and St. John captured my attention more than any other subject in the book. Their characters were not so contradictory that they could not agree, yet they had a contrast that beautifully displayed both the virtues and shortcomings of the other. As badly as St. John wanted Jane for his wife, even the casual reader would know he did not love her as a husband should; yet his vigilance in pursuing her was certainly inspiring. When it was clear she would never have him as her husband, he left for India and never married.

My heart went out to him from the first. For many chapters I liked him better than Rochester. His character was above reproach, and his only fault that he was too devoted to God’s work. (If that could be a fault). Though he seems to have missed out of the wonderful enjoyment freedom in Christ can bring to a Christian life, he was empty of regret, and unwavering in his purpose.

I think it must be significant that Bronte chose to end her novel with a page about St. John’s life. The final words do not speak of Jane’s happiness with her Edward, but instead illustrate the life of a Christian missionary who, to the end of his life, followed his Lord, sacrificing health, wealth and even personal happiness to bring eternal life and wellness to those who were less fortunate than he. Even with his legalism, his character inspired me. His life and example were all above reproach, and even as Jane writes of him, “A more resolute, indefatigable pioneer never wrought amidst rocks and dangers. Firm. Faithful, and devoted; full of energy, and zeal, and truth… He may be stern; he may be exacting: he may be ambitious yet; but his is the sternness of the warrior Greatheart, who guards his pilgrim convoy from the onslaught of Apollyon. His is the exaction of the apostle, who speaks but for Christ when he says—‘Whosoever will come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me.’…[Those] who are called, and chosen, and faithful.” (p. 552)

And I finished Jane Erye with tears in my eyes, crying, not for Jane, but for St. John…
…Yet the book is titled Jane Eyre and I was missing the connect. Until I smiled as I thought of her happiness, and her curious (but O, so wonderful!) marriage. The differences between the life she could have had and the life she chose then struck me: there were few. Except for an extreme climate, lack of food, Indian patients and an unloving husband the life she could have had with St. John was not very different from the life she chose with Rochester. Blinded and one-handed he needed care. Even when he was well, his personality was one that demanded attention. And what did Jane do? For the rest of her life she sacrificed her dreams, her wishes, her self for the love of her husband. She gave all to him, and there was never a couple so "bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” so united they were. Yet, unlike St. John, who gave up a fanciful love for the reserves of a missionary’s life, Jane’s true desires were fulfilled in her self-sacrifice. It was not that serving Mr. Rochester for the rest of her life stifled her imagination, crushed her dreams, or gave her no fulfillment. Rather, her marriage to Rochester was what gave her those things. And how beautiful it was! She was never so happy as when she was with him; she was never so content as when she was at his side; and never so satisfied as when she heard him say, “Jane! Jane, I need you. Come to me.”

What love! How many times have I heard a little voice call from some room in the house, “I need help!” and with a sigh go seek them out.

That is not self-sacrifice.

That does not even touch the surface of love. I wish I knew what Bronte purposed when she wrote Jane Eyre. Was there a message she wished to communicate above all others? If I could choose just one thought to bring out of this epic novel it is found in her self-sacrifice. Diligent, tireless, constant, cheerful and issued from a heart full of love. There stands the difference between St. John Rivers and dear Jane Eyre. While one sacrificed himself for duty the other sacrificed herself for love. O, blessed Christian whose love is for his duty!