Better to rot in prison!
(J.R. Miller, “Practical Lessons from the Story of Joseph“)
“How can I do this great wickedness–and sin against God!” Genesis 39:9
“After hearing his wife’s story, Potiphar was furious! He took Joseph and threw him into the prison!” Genesis 39:19-20
Sometimes it costs very dearly to be true to God. Joseph lay now in a dungeon. But his loss through doing right, was nothing in comparison with what he would have lost–had he done the wickedness to which he was tempted. His prison gloom, deep as it was–was as noonday, compared with what would have been the darkness of his soul under the blight of evil, and the bitterness of remorse. The chains that hung upon him in his dungeon, were but like feathers–in comparison with the heavy chains which would have bound his soul, had he yielded to the temptation. Though in a prison, his feet hurt by the fetters–he was a free man because his conscience was free and his heart was pure!
No fear of consequences should ever drive us to do a wrong thing.
It is better to suffer any loss, any cost, any sacrifice–than be eaten up by remorse!
Better be hurled down from a high place for doing right–than win worldly honor by doing wrong.
Better lose our right hand–than lose our purity of soul.
Better to rot in prison–than to sin against God!
It was the prayer of a young queen, which she wrote with a diamond point on her castle window, “Keep me pure–make others great.” That is the lesson of Joseph’s victory over temptation: dishonor, loss, dungeon, death–anything before sin!
Better to rot in prison!
The religion of JOY
The religion of JOY
(Octavius Winslow, “The Sympathy of Christ”)
The religion of Christ is the religion of JOY. Christ came to take away our sins, to roll off our curse, to unbind our chains, to open our prison house, to cancel our debt; in a word, to give us the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. Is not this joy? Where can we find a joy so real, so deep, so pure, so lasting? There is every element of joy; deep, ecstatic, satisfying, sanctifying joy in the gospel of Christ. The believer in Jesus is essentially a happy man. The child of God is, from necessity, a joyful man. His sins are forgiven, his soul is justified, his person is adopted, his trials are blessings, his conflicts are victories, his death is immortality, his future is a heaven of inconceivable, unthought of, untold, and endless blessedness. With such a God, such a Savior, and such a hope, is he not, ought he not, to be a joyful man?
Dear wife, farewell!
Dear wife, farewell!
(An excerpt from a letter by Christopher Love, to his wife, on the morning of his execution)
My most gracious beloved,
I am now going from a prison to a palace! I have finished my work. I am now to receive my wages. I am going to Heaven! Rejoice in my joy. The joy of the Lord is my strength. O, let it be yours also!
Dear wife, farewell! I will call you wife no more! I shall see your face no more! Yet I am not much troubled–for now I am going to meet the Bridegroom, the Lord Jesus Christ, to whom I shall be eternally married!
Your dying, yet most affectionate friend until death,
Christopher Love
August 22, 1651, the day of my glorification!
✞ Music “House Of Their Dreams” by Casting Crowns
“House Of Their Dreams“
A corner office was his dream
More like a prison now it seems
Somewhere on the corporate climb
He left his warrior behind
Now hes just a worker at a daily grind
Steals his years and numbs his mind
His strength is fading, his dreams are blind
This is not the life he had in mind
She lies awake cause hes up all night
Staring at a screen that tells him lies
That the grass is greener on the other side
So shes at the gym fighting off the years
To be young again and calm her fears
That shell never be enough for him
Just as a young man catches her eye
Now they’re trapped in their own worlds, in their own wars
With their cell phones and the closed doors
Its funny how quiet and peaceful that it seems
But they’re all alone together
In the house of their dreams
Little sister, shes a sixteen-year-old princess
Lost somewhere between the swing set
And her brand new crushs chariot awaits
And big brothers rooms glowing with trophies that shout his name
But he’d trade all his high school fame
For some backyard catch with his hero again
So now they’re all dressed up in Sunday best
Sit up straight just like the rest
And they sing the songs of peace and rest that Jesus freely gives
And then their kids look up as daddy stands
And he takes his bride with trembling hands
Brother kneels at his fathers side as princess looks in the mothers eyes
Their tears tear down the walls as daddy prays
Were trapped in our own worlds and our own wars
With our cell phones and our closed doors
God, only You can save our family
And on this Rock, well build
On this Rock, well build
The house of our dreams
Putting Us In The Fire
No words can express how much the world owes to sorrow. Most of the Psalms were born in the wilderness. Most of the Epistles were written in prison. The greatest thoughts of the greatest thinkers have all passed through the first. The greatest poets have “learned in suffering what they taught in song.” In bonds, Bunyan lived the allegory that he afterwards wrote, and we may thank Bedford Jail for the Pilgrim’s Progress. Take comfort, afflicted Christian! When God is about to make pre-eminent use of a person, He puts them in the fire.
George MacDonald
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