Yesterday, as the shudders of a global pandemic turned more dire, a close friend sent me a Youtube website that offers a visually calming voicing of reassuring promises of God, faith, and strength in Christ.
When I tried to access the link again this morning, the site was unresponsive. May have been a problem with my computer. But if not, a temporary overload and crash would be understandable.
It’s also understandable that we’d be looking for reassurance. Together. In a lonely kind of way. Vulnerable to false hopes.
So I’ve been trying to come to terms with the times, places, and persons for which the promises and reassurances of God were intended.
Seems to me that down through the ages words of comfort, hope, and reassurance were spoken and written as our God lovingly and realistically allowed people like us to be brought to the end of themselves and to a necessary loss of confidence in our idols.
So unexpectedly— and yet probably so predictably —this all seems so mercifully painful and personally, nationally, and globally humbling— as a prelude to the offer of comfort that remains.