We are hostage to a fallen world, that lies in the lap of evil, ruled by a dark Principality. God does not govern here - merely intervenes, sometimes. And what we have to sustain us, is a promise. We hope that we will be happy, or that our happiness, if we have it, will continue. We hope there is a hedge around us, to preserve us from a pain beyond our capacity to endure. We have been told we will not be tested to the breaking point. But how weak we are, how small. How alone we are, in this evil place of anguish and torment. Yet it isn’t hell, yet. Shall we find comfort, in this?
God calls himself a father, to us. How can we argue against God? We count our pain as chastisement, and it is for our good. For God is our Father. That he is so distant, is our fault. For he is God, and everywhere. If we have no comfort, did he not send a Comforter? But this is what I know. He calls himself the God of Consolation. Why am I not consoled? A father reaches out, and you feel his hand take yours. What father doesn’t do this?
Have you noticed it? I can’t be the only one. Because I’m not quite as crazy as the world is. I’m still civilized. But some of these things have happened, and not tomorrow. How will we bear it?
Sometimes, salvation is just a habit.