The Coronavirus pandemic has painfully liberated Americans from the fallacy that we are in control. Frankly, as twenty-first century Americans, we live in an artificial bubble, where death is not a constant companion like it has been for most human beings, in most places, for most of human history.
C. S. Lewis, contemplating the fears over the atomic bomb said, “In one way we think too much of the atomic bomb. How are we to live in an atomic age?” I’m tempted to reply, “As you would have in the sixteenth century when the plague visited London almost every year.”
And who among us has not heard the statement, “It feels so unnatural for a parent to bury a child”? Well, it would not have felt unnatural to our sixteenth, seventeen, eighteen, and early nineteenth century ancestors because, according to the grave yards in our churches, they buried their children routinely before modern medicine intervened.
Psalm 46 tells us that “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble.” But to be a refuge, you have to go to the refuge. We have to go to our Heavenly Father. We have to rest and trust in Him.
I was thinking about this the other day, and a phrase came to mind. The phrase was, “We don’t know what the future holds, but we know Who holds the future.” A chorus that I taught several churches that I pastored and interim pastored immediately flooded back into my brain, and I want to share it with you:
I know who holds the future,
And I know who holds my hand.
With God things don’t just happen;
Everything by Him is planned.
So as I face tomorrow,
With problems large and small,
I will trust the God of miracle,
Give to Him my all.
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