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Sunday, December 27, 2015

The Good, the Bad, the Unfailing

     My grandmother said that as the years go by you tend to remember only the good things of life. Grandma had plenty of bad that she could have remembered, too, but for her the memories had faded. Dad wasn’t so sure about his memories. He said he tended to remember the bad. What a difference in memories and the forgetfulness that sometimes comes with time!

     Last night I couldn’t sleep. I heard the heating pipe clunk as it expanded, the occasional car swish by on the wet street, and then the rain as it spat on the window pane. Night time is never a good time to rummage through memories, but I found myself thinking again about the difference between Grandma and Dad. Was one more right that the other? Grandma was probably more emotionally healthy and likely to have garnered approval from modern day counsellors. But was Dad wrong or just different?

     Honestly, I’ll have to confess I take more after my father. And, as I cautiously panned through a few sad times last night, the old question “Why?” popped up. I’m tired of that question. It’s not only wearisome, it’s annoying and pointless in many ways. I have general answers for my “whys” and few specifics. And those specifics are really what I want.

     So I left “why” alone and refocused on the rain, cold and menacing, as it hit the window pane just five feet away. That’s all that separated me from the rainy, chilly night—five feet and a wall. I burrowed further under the covers. Some people, I reminded myself, had nothing. Yet I had the protection of that wall.

     Then, in the early hours of the morning, as “why” still lingered off stage in my thoughts and Dad’s and Grandma’s approaches to life hovered nearby, Psalm 14:5 stepped into the spotlight: But I trust in your unfailing love: my heart rejoices in your salvation (NIV).
   
     It could be cold and rainy outside, but just as the wall shielded me from the brutality of the weather, so God’s unfailing love had and would surround me in the difficulties of my life. Whether they faded or stayed in the forefront of my memories was less important than that I trust in the unfailing love of God that insulates my life in and out of the bad things. It’s constant, like the walls of my house have been for the twenty years I have lived in it.

     Finally, I went to sleep. I still remember some of the memories that crossed my mind last night, but the sweet promise of God’s unfailing love is on center stage.



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