Today there was a guest speaker at Heritage. A man who's tiny son died this winter after falling into a frozen pond. You may have heard about it. The story made the national news. The amazing thing was, the boy was under the ice for a good part of the day. When he was finally found, his body temperature had dropped so low that his life had been preserved, even though he hadn't taken a breath in hours. He was rushed to the hospital where he was later pronounced dead...but then he took two breaths on his own! He had come alive again. He would only live for two more weeks.
The story is gut-wrenching. I could barely stand to listen to it on the news. And there, in front of me, was the boy's father, talking about the sovereignty of the Father and how trustworthy He is in our darkest hours. I realized how stupid I've been of late - complaining about this and that, wondering what the next step is for us and why He doesn't seem to be talking to us right now. As I listened to this man speak this morning, my own tiny son played happily in the nursery down the hall.
When the service was over, the worship team took the stage. I bowed my head and sang along, feeling like a single grain of sand on the beaches of humanity. Isn't that, after all, what I am? Then why do I spend so much time concerned about this single grain? We sang, "My sin, not in part but the whole, Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the L0rd, praise the L0rd, O my soul! It is well, with my soul, It is well, with my soul, It is well, it is well, with my soul.