By Mary

We went out on Pastor Ken's boat yesterday. I was the only girl out of the seven of us and I had hours to think and to tell God my confusion, my hurt. I ache thinking of my sweet ones' abandonment. Of Warren's family falling apart before it ever formed. Of Nadia and Similo, written off before a week was out. Why would God let them go through that? What happened to the prayers I thought He'd granted? Why does it seem to have to be the innocent, the helpless and yes, the Godly, who suffer most? Do my prayers even matter?
I wonder...but it's habit really, those prayers. And Who else can I turn to? I feel confused and even let down but I can't say He's wrong. I can't question the goodness or love He's proven so often. I can't say He's powerless. I can't claim to have any other hope.
Now is the time we celebrate His love offering, His death for our lives. His resurrection for our victory. The foundation of my faith which should drive me to my knees and lift up my hands. I can't exchange that faith for the hurt that I feel.
Yesterday as we sped back to the docks the setting sun played in our wake and I watched a rainbow sparkle in the foam at my side. His rainbow. His covenants are lasting and His promises are true. He is faithful.