"And this word, Yet once more, signifieth the removing of those things that are shaken, as of things that are made, that those things which cannot be shaken may remain" (Heb. 12:27).
God will not allow us to settle down with any second best, however splendid; He keeps breaking in on us, disturbing and upsetting us, much to our own chagrin. Each time that we drop anchor in some snug haven out of the wind, and straighten our stiff backs, and stretch ourselves luxuriously, meaning henceforth to take our ease, He calls to us imperatively, bidding us hoist sails at once and make for the wild tossing of the open seas again. And it is slowly and grudgingly we lift our anchors and very wistfully that we stare at the fading shores, yet we must go. We knock together a scheme of things we think will do, and propose to rest satisfied with that, and not bother ourselves about such matters any further; and He thrusts upon us some new fact that makes the whole thing, even to our prejudiced eyes, quite out of date and hopelessly inadequate, and we perforce must start anew. We run up a mode of life that is well enough, we say, and He flashes before us a vision of what it might be that makes us flush and hurriedly bury out of sight that poor thing grown impossible now, and build again more boldly and on a far ampler plan. We know Christ as well as we want to do, have taken from Him as much as we wish, and God so orders things that one day we come on Him face to face; and with that we must rise and follow Him into far lands we never thought to travel. Our ambition is to live a dull, tame, uneventful life, pottering to and fro at little nothings.
"In a sleepy land where under the same wheel The same old rut is deepened year by year."
But He won't let us be, keeps crying to us, "Up! Up! Rise, ye, and depart, for this is not your rest"; is urgent and insistent with us; brutally rough, we sometimes whimper, rubbing ruefully at the shoulder He has shaken till we opened drowsy eyes, and grumbled slowly to our heavy feet. At all events He won't take a refusal, but forces us to go; and, if we try to tarry, there and then shakes down about our ears the comfortable resting-places where we meant to loll and take our ease.