For the beleaguered

On this quintessential fall day, I glance out the plate-glass window. The street just beyond is busy. Trucks of every size rumble by, engaged in the noble work of commerce. Cars, too, rush past. Streams of humanity flow past my window in pursuit of that especial nectar of the gods. Here, we call it ‘coffee.’

At once, I see them. A father waits across the street, one small hand clutched firmly in his. Looking, looking, at last he finds a break in traffic’s flow, and here they come. Quickly, he guides his daughter to their waiting car. He straps her in, and as they leave, I see a small person silhouetted behind his shoulder blades, elevated on her seat.

You came to my mind, you, the beleaguered. Those who are taking blow after blow, stuck in a stream of suffering that does not abate. You flail, nearly drowning, in the riptide of trouble. Doubts and questions assail your mind until you cannot hear yourself think.

Where is God in the maelstrom?

Having survived fires and high tides, I can tell you where he is. He is within your very reach. In fact, he is holding your hand. That’s how I know you won’t drown. You won’t be utterly destroyed. You will not be defeated for good.

You won’t. You can’t be when the God who made you walks with you.

He knows how to bring you through and bring you out. Doesn’t matter if you can’t see the path because he can, so you’re safe.

The only way you’ll be truly at risk is if you deliberately drop that mighty, powerful, gentle, kind hand and dash into traffic by yourself. That’s the only way.

Trust God to get you across the street. Trust him to get your loved ones across the street. Trust him to guide you all the way to heaven, your forever home.

You can. He will. All is well.