I once kept a bottle-shaped cocoon of an emperor moth for nearly one year.

The cocoon was very strange in its construction. The neck of the “bottle” had a narrow opening through which the mature insect forces its way.

Therefore the abandoned cocoon is as perfect as one still inhabited, with no tearing of the interwoven fibers having taken place. The great disparity between the size of the opening and the size of the imprisoned insect makes a person wonder how the moth ever exits at all. Of course, it is never accomplished without great labor and difficulty.

It is believed the pressure to which the moth’s body is subjected when passing through such a narrow opening is nature’s way of forcing fluids into the wings, since they are less developed at the time of emerging from the cocoon than in other insects.

I happened to witness the first efforts of my imprisoned moth to escape from its long confinement. All morning I watched it patiently striving and struggling to be free. It never seemed able to get beyond a certain point, and at last my patience was exhausted.

The confining fibers were probably drier and less elastic than if the cocoon had been left all winter in its native habitat, as nature meant it to be. In any case, I thought I was wiser and more compassionate than its Maker, so I resolved to give it a helping hand.

With the point of my scissors, I snipped the confining threads to make the exit just a little easier. Immediately and with perfect ease, my moth crawled out, dragging a huge swollen body and little shriveled wings!

I watched in vain to see the marvelous process of expansion in which these wings would silently and swiftly develop before my eyes. As I examined the delicately beautiful spots and markings of various colors that were all there in miniature, I longed to see them assume their ultimate size.

I looked for my moth, one of the loveliest of its kind, to appear in all its perfect beauty. But I looked in vain. My misplaced tenderness had proved to be its ruin.

The moth suffered an aborted life, crawling painfully through its brief existence instead of flying through the air on rainbow wings.

I have thought of my moth often, especially when watching with tearful eyes those who were struggling with sorrow, suffering, and distress.

My tendency would be to quickly alleviate the discipline and bring deliverance.

O shortsighted person that I am! How do I know that one of these pains or groans should be relieved?

The farsighted, perfect love that seeks the perfection of its object does not weakly shrink away from present, momentary suffering.

Our Father’s love is too steadfast to be weak.

Because He loves His children, He “disciplines us . . . that we may share in his holiness” (Hebrews 12:10).

With this glorious purpose in sight, He does not relieve our crying.

Made perfect through suffering, as our Elder Brother was, we children of God are disciplined to make us obedient, and brought to glory through much tribulation.

For developing character an imperfect man needs the stimulus and discipline of a developing environment, not yet perfected—a world of struggle and resistance: obstacles to be overcome, battles to be won, baffling problems to be solved. He needs not a soft world of ease to lull him to sleep, but a changing environment of action and reaction: cold and heat, summer and winter, sunshine and shadow, light and darkness, pleasure and pain, prosperity and adversity.

As Dr. Hillis said: “He who would ask release from suffering would take the winter out of the seasons, the glory of the night out of the round of day, the cloud and rainstorms out of the summer; would expel the furrows from the face of Lincoln; would rob Socrates of his dignity and majesty; would make Saint Paul a mere esthetic feeling; would steal the sweetness from maternity; would rob the Divine Sufferer of His sanctity.”

When the little girl told her music teacher that it hurt her fingers to practice the piano, the teacher answered: “I know it hurts, but it strengthens them, too.” Then the child packed the philosophy of the ages in her reply: “Teacher, it seems that everything that strengthens, hurts.”

God never wastes His children’s pain!

God loves much those whom He trusts with sorrow, and designs some precious soul enrichment which comes only through the channel of suffering.

There are things which even God cannot do for us unless He allows us to suffer. He cannot have the result of the process without the process.

If you are among “them that love God” (v. 28 KJV), all things are yours! The stars in their courses fight for you. Every wind that blows can only fill your sails.

God does not test worthless souls!

A remarkable event occurred recently at a wedding in England. The bridegroom, a very wealthy young man of high social standing, had been blinded by an accident at the age of ten. In spite of his blindness, he had graduated from the university with honors and had now won the heart of his beautiful bride, although he had never looked upon her face. Shortly before his marriage he underwent a new round of treatments by specialists, and the result was ready to be revealed on the day of his wedding.

The big day arrived, with all the guests and their presents. In attendance were cabinet ministers, generals, bishops, and learned men and women. The groom, dressed for the wedding but with his eyes still covered by bandages, rode to the church with his father. His famous ophthalmologist met them in the vestry of the church.

The bride entered the church on the arm of her white-haired father. She was so moved, she could hardly speak. Would the man she loved finally see her face—a face others admired but he knew only through the touch of his delicate fingertips?

As she neared the altar, while the soft strains of the wedding march floated through the church, she saw an unusual group. There before her stood the groom, his father, and the doctor. The doctor was in the process of cutting away the last bandage.

Once the bandage was removed, the groom took a step forward, yet with the trembling uncertainty of someone who is not completely awake. A beam of rose-colored light from a pane in the window above the altar fell across his face, but he did not seem to see it.

Could he see anything? Yes! Recovering in an instant his steadiness and demeanor, and with a dignity and joy never before seen on his face, he stepped forward to meet his bride. They looked into each other’s eyes, and it seemed as if his gaze would never wander from her face.

“At last!” she said. “At last,” he echoed solemnly, bowing his head. It was a scene with great dramatic power, as well as one of great joy. Yet as beautiful as this story is, it is but a mere suggestion of what will actually take place in heaven when Christians, who have been walking through this world of trial and sorrow, “shall see [him] face to face” (1 Corinthians 13:12).

SELECTED

Just longing, dear Lord, for you, Jesus, beloved and true; Yearning and wondering when You’ll be coming back again, Under all I say and do, Just longing, dear Lord, for you.

Some glad day, all watching past, You will come for me at last; Then I’ll see you, hear your voice, Be with you, with you rejoice; How the sweet hope thrills me through, Sets me longing, dear Lord, for you.

Those who wait upon the Lord shall obtain a marvelous addition to their resources: they shall obtain wings! They become endowed with power to rise above things. Men who do not soar always have small views of things.

Wings are required for breadth of view. The wing-life is characterized by a sense of proportion. To see things aright, we must get away from them. An affliction looked at from the lowlands may be stupendous; looked at from the heights, it may appear little or nothing. These “light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (2 Corinthians 4:17). What a breadth of view!

And here is another great quotation: “Our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18).

This is a bird’s-eye view. It sees life as a whole. How mighty the bird from which the picture is taken! “Like eagles!” What strength of wing! Such is to be ours if we wait upon the Lord. We shall be able to soar above disappointment—no matter how great—and to wing our way into the very presence of God. Let us live the wing-life!

The little bird sat on a slender limb, Upward swinging, And though wind and rain were rough with him, Still kept singing.

“O little bird, quick, seek out your nest!” I could not keep from calling; “The bleak winds tear your tender breast, Your tiny feet are falling.”

“More need for song When things go wrong, I was not meant for crying; No fear for me,” He piped with glee, “My wings are made for flying!”

My heart had been dark as the stormy sky. In my sorrow, With the weight of troubles long passed by, And the morrow.

“O little bird, sing!” I cried once more, “The sun will soon be shining. See, there’s a rainbow arching o’er The storm cloud’s silver lining.”

I, too, will sing Through everything; It will teach blessing double; Nor yet forget. When rude winds fret, To fly above my trouble.

SELECTED Wing-power gives us the gift of soaring, and we see how things are related one to another. Wide soaring gives wide seeing!

Thou shalt have treasure in heaven: . . . come and follow me.—I am . . . thy exceeding great reward.

Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.—They shall reign for ever and ever.

Ye shall receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away.—The crown of life.—A crown of righteousness.—An incorruptible crown.

Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory, which thou has given me.—So shall we ever be with the Lord.

I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

Here have we no continuing city.—Ye have in heaven a better and an enduring substance.

Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.

Now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations.—There the wicked cease from troubling; and there the weary be at rest.

We that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened.—God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.

The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.—Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.

Though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered.—We suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together. For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

He knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold. My foot hath held his steps, his way have I kept, and not declined.

Thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee these forty years in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep his commandments, or no. Thou shalt also consider in thine heart, that, as a man chasteneth his son, so the Lord thy God chasteneth thee. Therefore thou shalt keep the commandments of the Lord thy God, to walk in his ways, and to fear him.