By Cynthia Gaw
As we hunker down within our homes for safety, our dependence upon our loving God increases. The more aware we are of our danger, the more conscious we are of our vulnerability, and consequently, the more secure is our trust in our only utterly trustworthy option. Our weakness is our strength; true security lies nowhere else but in God Himself.
As I look out upon my Rocklin neighborhood from my second story window, I imagine a worst-case scenario. What if my enemy were visible, every Coronavirus population a florescent green? Every house clearly infected. Even if I am infected (for God has not promised I won’t be), I am safe. God loves me, and he will not forsake me- Come what may. But what I expect and depend upon is God almighty acting FOR me because I am on His side.
The situation is quite similar to Jerusalem in 701 BC (II Kings 18-19, Isaiah 36-37). Hezekiah looks over the wall and sees the Assyrian army surrounding him. He knows his own paltry defenses cannot withstand the coming attack. Trust in them is utter foolishness. Prayer is his only truly effective weapon.
I look out my window and see myself surrounded by an infection to which my paltry, 65-year-old immune system is no adequate defense. The situation is irrelevant, however, to the power of God, my friend, who has promised to act for me.
The Destruction of Sennacherib [Coronavirus]
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
Cynthia Gaw’s Bio: I was born and raised in Laguna Beach, have been married to Peter for 46years, have 5 biological children, 1 unofficially adopted daughter, 2 sons-in-law, one daughter-in-law, and seven grandchildren. While I’m not on social media, my books are available through Amazon, christiangrowth.com (Anne of Chiel Buya), or The National Library of Wales. I attach a brief CV in case you're looking for a fact or two on the professional side of things.