I woke up this morning.
And, with that one sentence, you may know all you need to know about my day.
“The steadfast and resolute love of the Lord never wavers. There is no end to His mercies. Every morning we awake, they are fresh and new. What astounding faithfulness!” (Lamentations 3:22-23, my paraphrase)
I awoke this morning and got out of bed. There were clothes for my body and shoes for my feet. Food was available to keep up my strength—although that would wait until after I drank my first (and maybe, my second) cup of coffee.
My house is still standing and my children—and grandchildren—can still put their arms around my neck and tell me they love me.
But the words in those verses above have nothing to do with all those things. Well, except for the “every morning we awake” part.
We glibly speak (and sing) the words of Lamentations, yet rarely think of the weight of the words to the people who first heard the words of the weeping prophet, Jeremiah.
They are heavy words. Words to give a foundation when all around turns to quicksand. Words to offer food and drink when all about has become a barren and desolate desert.
The people for whom the words were originally intended were under an aggressive physical attack. They were being starved and their homes destroyed. There was rape and cannibalism among them. Life was horrible.
Things are not that bad here. Not yet.
Still, everywhere I look, folks are using hyperbole to tell us it can’t get any worse. You’ve seen—and read—and heard what I’m talking about. It doesn’t seem to matter what one’s faith tradition is, nor even their political leaning.
“Disaster!”, they all cry.
And yet, in the midst of a real (not imagined) disaster, Jeremiah wrote the words that would stand for a thousand generations. And for many more.
Those words have the same weight today as they did the day he took up quill, ink, and scroll to write them down.
Maybe it’s time to quit doom-scrolling. I’m certain the words appearing on your phone’s screen today won’t be remembered at all a thousand years from now. Perhaps, not even a week from now.
All those Chicken Little folks who think the sky is falling won’t change the resolute will of our Creator one iota. And, He is for us!
He is for us!
In our corner.
On our side.
And, I woke up this morning. You too, I bet.
I’m going on. Today, at least.
Are you coming with?
“But let all who take refuge in you rejoice;
let them sing joyful praises forever.
Spread your protection over them,
that all who love your name may be filled with joy.”
(Psalm 5:11, NLT)
“One day Henny-penny was picking up corn in the corn yard when—whack!—something hit her upon the head. ‘Goodness gracious me!’ said Henny-penny; ‘the sky’s a-going to fall; I must go and tell the king.'”
(from the English fairy tale, Henny-Penny)
© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2024. All Rights Reserved.