Chrysostom
Beloved of All
The pain of a child's suffering pierces a parent's heart more keenly than any personal grief. I do not wonder that you are heartbroken, seeing your daughter's spirit crushed after so much labor and sacrifice. Yet, take care that your very love for her does not lead you to seek only the easing of her temporal distress without the medicine her soul truly needs. She has given up much: her social life, her ease, her rest, all to gain admission to a school. And now that it is denied, she feels that even her very best was not enough, and her confidence is shattered. This is a dangerous hour, not because she failed an examination, but because she stands at a crossroads: either to harden her heart in despair, or to hear the voice of the Lord saying, "Today, if you will hear His voice, do not harden your heart."
Why is she so cast down? Because she placed her hope, her rejoicing, her very sense of worth in a worldly success. And when that hope was deferred, her heart sickened. I tell you, we are God's house only if we hold fast our confidence and the rejoicing of hope firm to the end. And what is that hope? Not acceptance to a university, not a comfortable apartment near a pleasant city, but the eternal inheritance laid up for those who love Him. These present griefs, when weighed against the glory that shall be revealed, are lighter than a feather. Does she not see that if she had attained her desire, she might have been confirmed in her attachment to passing things, and drifted far from God in the pride of achievement? Better to stumble and learn humility, better to fall and learn to rise, than to stand on a pinnacle of earthly honor and lose one's soul.
Let her not be ashamed of her tears, but let her not wallow in them either. God wrote the history of David's great fall, not that we should merely see him fallen, but that we should admire him risen. For David, by a little carelessness, was hurled into the very gulf of sin, yet he arose again quickly. Your daughter has committed no sin in failing this exam; she has only had her plans overturned. But the danger is that she now hides herself in shame, loses her confidence, and ceases to glory in God. Do not let her say, "My efforts were all in vain." Remind her that even those ten strokes that seem to bear no fruit may be preparing the tree to fall at last by a single blow of grace. I have seen many who heard ten sermons and remained insensible, yet afterward showed abundant fruit at once. The root is known to God. The discipline of those long hours of study, the self-denial, the perseverance, these have carved something in her character that is not lost, if she will now offer them to God and not to her idol.
As you search for housing, see how every apartment she likes is near the very university that rejected her. This is a provocation, a daily reopening of the wound. My counsel is plain: do not let her dwell in the shadow of that earthly citadel, where every sight will whisper, "Here you might have been, but you were not good enough." Seek rather a quiet place, even if remote, where she can be still and recollect that her true citizenship is in heaven. You say she lost almost all social life. Then perhaps this solitude, this very barrenness, may become for her a desert where she can hear God speak, away from the clamor of youthful vanities. The Canaanite woman came to Jesus with no confidence but a holy shamelessness, crying, "Help me!" Let your daughter learn to pray so: not dictating how God must heal her, but simply casting herself upon His mercy. He will respect that confidence.
And you, her parents: you who drove hours to bring her home, who watched her struggle, do not now add to her despondency by your own. If you are faint-hearted, how will she find strength? Let your prayer be not only for a house of brick and mortar, but that she and your whole household may become a house of God, built on the rock of faith which no disappointment can shake. This momentary affliction is preparing an eternal weight of glory. Therefore, comfort her with these words, and more than words, with your own steadfast hope. I will join you in prayer, but I charge you to seek first her soul's health, and the rest will be added. The Lord knows what safe dwelling she needs, and He will guide you. Only let none of you harden your hearts.
Why is she so cast down? Because she placed her hope, her rejoicing, her very sense of worth in a worldly success. And when that hope was deferred, her heart sickened. I tell you, we are God's house only if we hold fast our confidence and the rejoicing of hope firm to the end. And what is that hope? Not acceptance to a university, not a comfortable apartment near a pleasant city, but the eternal inheritance laid up for those who love Him. These present griefs, when weighed against the glory that shall be revealed, are lighter than a feather. Does she not see that if she had attained her desire, she might have been confirmed in her attachment to passing things, and drifted far from God in the pride of achievement? Better to stumble and learn humility, better to fall and learn to rise, than to stand on a pinnacle of earthly honor and lose one's soul.
Let her not be ashamed of her tears, but let her not wallow in them either. God wrote the history of David's great fall, not that we should merely see him fallen, but that we should admire him risen. For David, by a little carelessness, was hurled into the very gulf of sin, yet he arose again quickly. Your daughter has committed no sin in failing this exam; she has only had her plans overturned. But the danger is that she now hides herself in shame, loses her confidence, and ceases to glory in God. Do not let her say, "My efforts were all in vain." Remind her that even those ten strokes that seem to bear no fruit may be preparing the tree to fall at last by a single blow of grace. I have seen many who heard ten sermons and remained insensible, yet afterward showed abundant fruit at once. The root is known to God. The discipline of those long hours of study, the self-denial, the perseverance, these have carved something in her character that is not lost, if she will now offer them to God and not to her idol.
As you search for housing, see how every apartment she likes is near the very university that rejected her. This is a provocation, a daily reopening of the wound. My counsel is plain: do not let her dwell in the shadow of that earthly citadel, where every sight will whisper, "Here you might have been, but you were not good enough." Seek rather a quiet place, even if remote, where she can be still and recollect that her true citizenship is in heaven. You say she lost almost all social life. Then perhaps this solitude, this very barrenness, may become for her a desert where she can hear God speak, away from the clamor of youthful vanities. The Canaanite woman came to Jesus with no confidence but a holy shamelessness, crying, "Help me!" Let your daughter learn to pray so: not dictating how God must heal her, but simply casting herself upon His mercy. He will respect that confidence.
And you, her parents: you who drove hours to bring her home, who watched her struggle, do not now add to her despondency by your own. If you are faint-hearted, how will she find strength? Let your prayer be not only for a house of brick and mortar, but that she and your whole household may become a house of God, built on the rock of faith which no disappointment can shake. This momentary affliction is preparing an eternal weight of glory. Therefore, comfort her with these words, and more than words, with your own steadfast hope. I will join you in prayer, but I charge you to seek first her soul's health, and the rest will be added. The Lord knows what safe dwelling she needs, and He will guide you. Only let none of you harden your hearts.
