I will put all my faith in the hands of the Lord. For whatever I tried to hold onto, I have let slip, from memory or from sight. So much that I have forgotten. But whatever I placed in the care of Him above, these things will I ever have, whether I concern myself about them or not. Sometimes what He promises I will scoff at, like Sarah who He told would have her son Isaac, even while she was in old age. But the Lord’s promises are not those of men, who like a leaf is blown and scattered. His will is surer than the seconds that pass so diligently. God is love: thus is the mystery we contend with. That of the delicate balance of all things between one another, He knows how fate will trace, the single whisper that sets in motion the creation of whole cities. We, not to comprehend a fraction of the myriad connections between triggers and flows, the actions and consequences, the intricate orchestrations and their musics. Just that we trust that the hand from which the miracle comes is sure.
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