More on Elisabeth Elliot
In a piece by John Piper and posted on Facebook by my friend Esther (King) Troyer, I found words for more of what I admire about Elisabeth Elliot (EE) and reminders also of truths I've learned from her. Here's the link to that article.
Piper describes EE like this:
1. Blunt — not ungracious, not impetuous, not snappy or gruff. But direct, unsentimental, no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is, no whining allowed. Just pull your britches on and go die for Jesus--
2. She was allergic to anything that smacked of mushy, mawkish, sentimentalistic emotionalism.
3. [She had a] tough take on feminism and . . . [a] magnificent vision of sexual complementarity.
4. Whether it was the spears of the Ecuadorian jungle or the standards of American glamor, she would not be cowed. “Do not fear anything that is frightening.”
I'm indebted to EE for much of whatever sense I've been able to make of suffering. I've often talked about her observation that Jesus himself did not wish to suffer. (From one of Elliot's less well-known books These Strange Ashes) He asked God "if it were possible" to "let this cup [of suffering] pass from me." Yet, because it was not possible, in choosing to put aside his own will and choosing the Father's instead, ("Not my will, but thine be done.") he stayed his suffering course according to the Father's will. Seeing this helped me put to rest the idea that I should have no will of my own. What I need to do instead is recognize my own will, and then be willing to put that well-examined will aside in favor of the Father's will if it differs from mine.
Only after reading the "Peaches in Paradise" article above did I recall that I first learned from EE another precious truth about suffering. Experiences of suffering can become our offerings to God. She helped supply me with an image of an altar on which our precious things or our painful circumstances--our offerings, are placed. Our act of sacrifice, in the mystery of God's transformative work, rises to God as a sweet-smelling savor, just as the burnt, meal, and peace--all savor offerings--of the Old Testament did (the sin and trespass offerings were described differently--because they contained contamination). With this background I began to see that sufferings are good for something RIGHT NOW: They're good offering material. No one has to wait for the long interval of time before other purposes for suffering are finally revealed.
For me personally, Elisabeth Elliot's insights on suffering are perhaps her most enduring legacy. It is no small legacy, and I'm very grateful for it.
Piper describes EE like this:
1. Blunt — not ungracious, not impetuous, not snappy or gruff. But direct, unsentimental, no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is, no whining allowed. Just pull your britches on and go die for Jesus--
2. She was allergic to anything that smacked of mushy, mawkish, sentimentalistic emotionalism.
3. [She had a] tough take on feminism and . . . [a] magnificent vision of sexual complementarity.
4. Whether it was the spears of the Ecuadorian jungle or the standards of American glamor, she would not be cowed. “Do not fear anything that is frightening.”
I'm indebted to EE for much of whatever sense I've been able to make of suffering. I've often talked about her observation that Jesus himself did not wish to suffer. (From one of Elliot's less well-known books These Strange Ashes) He asked God "if it were possible" to "let this cup [of suffering] pass from me." Yet, because it was not possible, in choosing to put aside his own will and choosing the Father's instead, ("Not my will, but thine be done.") he stayed his suffering course according to the Father's will. Seeing this helped me put to rest the idea that I should have no will of my own. What I need to do instead is recognize my own will, and then be willing to put that well-examined will aside in favor of the Father's will if it differs from mine.
Only after reading the "Peaches in Paradise" article above did I recall that I first learned from EE another precious truth about suffering. Experiences of suffering can become our offerings to God. She helped supply me with an image of an altar on which our precious things or our painful circumstances--our offerings, are placed. Our act of sacrifice, in the mystery of God's transformative work, rises to God as a sweet-smelling savor, just as the burnt, meal, and peace--all savor offerings--of the Old Testament did (the sin and trespass offerings were described differently--because they contained contamination). With this background I began to see that sufferings are good for something RIGHT NOW: They're good offering material. No one has to wait for the long interval of time before other purposes for suffering are finally revealed.
For me personally, Elisabeth Elliot's insights on suffering are perhaps her most enduring legacy. It is no small legacy, and I'm very grateful for it.
posted by Mrs. I (Miriam Iwashige) at
8:59 AM
5 Comments:
I agree on your thoughts on suffering. My personal favorites of all of EE's books are These Strange Ashes and Path Through Suffering. I probably don't realize how much reading those books at important times in my life helped form my thinking.
Elisabeth gave us gift through her words that I expect will continue to echo for years to come.
Gina
By
Gina, at 6/16/2015
Gina, I think you're the first person I know of who has also read These Strange Ashes. It's good to hear from someone who feels the same way I did about that book. I haven't read the other one you mentioned, but your comment makes me want to do so.
By
Mrs. I (Miriam Iwashige), at 6/16/2015
These Strange Ashes is definitely my favorite of EE's books. Some of her other books I found a little intimidating. Her biography of Amy Carmichael, A Chance to Die, was another life-changing read for me.
By
Rosina, at 6/17/2015
Rosina, I'm glad to hear that you're familiar too with These Strange Ashes and feel about it as I do. I also read the book about Amy Carmichael. I felt a little wistful about that one--not about how the story was told, but it left me with some questions about how Dohnavour (sp?) functioned. The specific thing I'm remembering right now is that none of the workers were allowed to marry. I do love Carmichael's writing though, and have benefited greatly from it. Thanks for the comment.
By
Mrs. I (Miriam Iwashige), at 6/17/2015
I think I need to re-read These Strange Ashes. I enjoyed it years ago, more than I expected to at that time. :) I particularly remember the distinction she made between living on the mission field with simplicity, rather than living in squalor and calling it sacrifice.
By
tabitha, at 6/23/2015
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