Rarely is our faith made sight in moments of ease. We only reach for a handhold once the ground begins to quake. We don’t seek safety until the landscape shifts and the familiar crumbles.
Believe me, I know from whence I speak. It wasn’t until I was exposed to life-altering, knee-buckling losses that I found to be certain what I’d only 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 was true, before:
Jesus 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 be trusted. I had always suspected it, but, now, I know it deep in my bones. 𝐍𝐨𝐰, there is no doubt.
We don’t typically worry about, or discover, the strength or stability of a thing until its dependability becomes a matter of life or death.
Is the ladder steady? The rope strong? The grip secure? Will it hold? Will 𝐇𝐄 hold?
Indeed He will. Indeed He has. Not protected 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 the quake, but 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭, I have been held fast by One who withstood so that I could withstand.
In the safekeeping of the One who is all I’d ever hoped 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, I have been held in heartache, loved in loss, and beckoned in banishment.
Quakes come into our lives, not to destroy, but to confirm, not to harm, but to testify. Class remains in session, and under the tutelage of the One who holds us fast, we discover, anew, that unparalleled beauty awaits us all, especially among the ruins.
“…when all around my soul gives way, He then is all my hope and stay.”
~ 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬