It was
a smooth ride, with the background of a wealthy and influential family. Blossoming
in sports and as a newspaper writer at Harvard, he next became a distinguished
State Senator and Assistant Secretary of the Navy. But tragedy struck at this
point.
Franklin
Delaney Roosevelt became crippled with a severe case of polio. He was left
twisted in pain in the sordid days that followed. For many observers his career
was over. Yet he summoned his courage from some inner well and regained the use
of his hands and learned to walk with braces. During his recovery a morbid fear
haunted him, that he would be trapped in a burning building. Who
could blame him, if he spent the rest of his life wallowing in self-pity?
Instead, he took determined efforts to overcome his limitations and conquer his
fears. Eight years later he became the governor of the state of New York. And
11 years later, enduring countless months of enduring pain, after being urged
to retire – this man of fear and man of courage was sworn in as the 32nd
President of USA!
At this
time the country was bogged down by the Great Depression. One in four men was
unemployed. Food was scarce. Many lost their homes. The great nation had been
humbled to its knees. Like Roosevelt's legs, the country was crippled with
fear. Against this backdrop of national paralysis, Franklin Delaney Roosevelt
scuffled to the microphone and delivered the century's most riveting address,
"The only thing we have to fear is
fear itself."
Likewise
in the ancient past for exiled Jews in Babylon, with more than a hundred years
of servitude it did not seem possible to have any future hope. Yet Isaiah who
pronounces judgement also promises future restoration. Look at the language in
Isa 46: 13 (NLT) – "I am ready to
set things right, not in the distant future, but right now! I am ready to
save... and give my glory..."
So what
terror has crushed your heart? Fear not, for God promises deliverance right
now. Read further Isaiah 49: 1-13 to find more encouragement and hope. So next time you try to compute fear, leave it completely out of your equations.
Betrayal always slithers noiselessly like a slug coating the poison of its slime into a relationship, without warning: the viscid unrelenting gel permeates deep into the recesses of the subconscious. There it cakes morbidly unwashable. When you trace the trajectory of betrayal through time you find each preceding event frozen in tandem, into vignettes of daggers carefully planned. Even simple words like "very good" can be ominously portentous. This comes with the rending foreknowledge that no remedy will come, not in days, nor months, nor years. There will be questions but no answers. There will be comprehension but no prayers. There may be grief but no tears. There will be comfort for others, but none within. And in the end when one part of you dies the other parts usually follow, for even a lion wounded in the heart will soon have to die.
