Been thinking a bit … always slightly dangerous …
Sure, we have our ills, who doesn’t?
Been reading 2 Samuel … who doesn’t have their ills?
But it’s the promise of God …
To be faithful … faithful to the likes of us … Joabs and Davids and
Absaloms and Bathshebas and Uriahs and lusters and lovers and
Killers and plotters and avengers and women and men who still
Somehow, are after God’s own heart, because God is steadfast in faith.
That’s what counts … that’s the story … that’s the gospel.
God.
And, sure, we have our ills.
But it’s the promise that sustains us.
We can’t build it.
We can’t kill it.
We don’t get there.
It comes to us!
The promise.
Glad to be a Presbyterian … we have some of that promise-sturdiness in our gut …
Something of that hope, because God is greater …
And maybe it’s God who’s shrinking us …
Like reducing a good sauce, to intensify it’s flavor ..
And teaching us to weep.
Some would quit and walk away to their own peculiar brand of ills.
But I’ll stay, and I’ll weep, and I’ll hope and work and stay the course.
Because of the promise.
It comes to us.
Again!
