It's been a really hard week...really hard. It's been of those weeks that makes you wonder about the state of the world...is there, in fact, any hope? And of course you assure yourself and others that hope is still present and dependable...but you feel more than a bit hopeless in your grief and you find yourself looking hard for those tiny signs of life that you know have to be there.
In worship Sunday, we were called together by God. We listened to words of scripture that have been read aloud for thousands of years. We sang the Doxology...I can't even begin to guess how many millions of voices have lifted those words to the heavens. We prayed.
The Kingdom of God, thankfully, wasn't up to me...isn't up to me. It's not even up to us in the here and now. We can help or we can hurt the progress. But God's purposes have been at work long before we have been part of the work, and they will be at work long after we are gone.
And that, my friends, is faith. That, my friends, is the hope in which I live and move and have my being.
The grief is not gone. The work still cries out to be done. And so I go to work, crying out "will these bones live" and resting in the knowledge...."God, you know."
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