At any other time, I probably would've skimmed right over them, but during the Covid-19 culture they became the very essence of hope.
Perhaps I should back up a bit. Careful to follow the protocols handed down by governors and health advisors alike, I found myself with a scratchy throat and a hoarse voice. I lined up my usual beat-the-bug potions on the counter, fully expecting to be fine after a day or two. Just to be sure I took my temperature. Days turned into weeks with symptoms coming and going (none of which were on the C-19 list, I might add). Finally, I made an appointment, which turned into several more. I think we're finally almost to the end of this road.
All that to say this: Between the ever-darkening newscasts and my own fear of somehow infecting my 84-year-old dad, I felt anxious . . . really anxious . . . and even guilty. What was wrong with me? Why didn't God intervene? I couldn't bear it if I gave something to my father. And what if this was something serious?
My usual take-what-comes manner flew right out the window, and fear and frustration began to take root in my heart. And that's when I read these words:
"And no inhabitant will say, 'I am sick';
the people who dwell there will be forgiven their iniquity" (Isaiah 33:24).Can you imagine a day when not one person will say "I am sick"? Isaiah wrote about judgment and captivity to a nation who forsook God's ways, but he also penned poetry about God's promise to bring about the messianic kingdom, a kingdom the redeemed will one day enjoy.
"Say to those who have an anxious heart,
Be strong; fear not! Behold, your God . . ." (35:4).
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