Relax, My Child
Yesterday’s sermon at St. John’s was about being “Safe But Uncomfortable,” a theme the church has been exploring during Epiphany. Eric talked about walking in darkness versus sitting in it, about political instability, protesters being killed in Minnesota, a bishop warning clergy to prepare for martyrdom. He mentioned having his will in order, his life insurance sorted. (Recording here.)
Honest? Yes. Timely? Sure. But I left feeling heavier, not lighter.
This morning I opened Jesus Always to January 26:
Relax, My child. I’m in control. Let these words wash over you repeatedly, like soothing waves on a beautiful beach, assuring you of My endless Love.
Yesterday: prepare for the worst. This morning: relax.
You waste a lot of time and energy trying to figure out things before their time has come. Meanwhile, I am working to prepare the way before you. So be on the lookout for some wonderful surprises—circumstances that only I could have orchestrated.
The sermon wasn’t wrong. The world is unstable. History is violent. The disciples got killed. I know all this.
But there’s a difference between acknowledging darkness and dwelling in it. Between being prepared and being preoccupied.
The devotional doesn’t pretend the future is certain. It just says: “As you look ahead into the unknown future, relax in the knowledge of who you are—the one I love.”
That’s the anchor. Not political conditions. Not having my affairs in order. Not bracing for impact. Identity: beloved.
Remember that you are My beloved. I am on your side, and I want what is best for you. Someone who is loved by a generous, powerful person can expect to receive an abundance of blessings. You are loved by the King of the universe, and I have good plans for you.
Lisa Beske gave a testimony after the sermon about feeling safe despite chaos. She traced her sense of security from her father, to her mother sitting at the top of the stairs with a shotgun during the 1968 riots, to finally trusting God. I get that progression. Human protectors fail. Divine love doesn’t.
But posture matters. Lisa’s testimony ended with trust. The sermon ended with preparing for death. I sat in the pew thinking: these can’t both be right. Or maybe they can, but only one of them fills me with peace.
Cling to My hand, and go forward with confidence. While you and I walk together along the path of Life, your trust in Me will fill your heart with Joy and your mind with Peace.
I’m not trying to be naive about the world. But I’m also not spending my energy figuring out things before their time has come.
Today I’m watching for surprises. The kind only God could pull off.
Jeremiah 29:11, Deuteronomy 33:12, Psalm 16:11