This Matter of Faith
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God will not fail you...

4/1/2019

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“Strelley?” he asks. Then he confirms by repeating, “Strelley.”
Edward Strelley says nothing. Instead, he bows his head, and his eyes close in silent prayer. 
“I had not thought to see you again,” Harper says. “But I am glad that you have come.”
Again, Strelley says nothing. Harper goes to him, and takes his hand. “You have not seen your fellow man at his best since we last spoke. Do not be disappointed. God will love them all just the same. I am sure of it.”
“The sinners? The unrepentant? The unfaithful?” Strelley’s voice is cracked and uneven.
“Yes, Edward. He loves them.”

“But He does not take them to Him in Heaven.”
“Ah, you presume. I do not pretend to know the mind of God. But if Hell is anything, it is to be apart from God. Not some fiery torture, for that is nothing compared to being without God.”
“The suicides?”
“Do you think, Edward Strelley, that God is vengeful and angry?”
Strelley lifts his eyes to Harper’s. “The God of the Old Testament is.”

“God, who sent us His son to save us from our sins? Do you think that God, who can see through the masks and the words of men, for whom a life such as ours is no more than the blink of an eyelid, do you think that such a God could abandon his flock, no matter their sins?”
“We are taught that we must avoid sin. Repent.”
Harper smiles. “That you must. But if you fail God, He will not fail you.”
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    Andy Richardson

    When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
    I summon up remembrance of things past,
    I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
    And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:
    Then can I drown an eye, unus’d to flow,
    For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,
    And weep afresh love’s long since cancell’d woe,
    And moan the expense of many a vanish’d sight:
    Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
    And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er
    The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
    Which I new pay as if not paid before.
    But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
    All losses are restor’d and sorrows end.

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