As I write this I’m starting to feel a scratch at the back of my throat.
2020 is not a great time to find yourself with cold-like symptoms.
It could be the beginning of a few days of under-the-weather-ness. It could be something else.
I’ve been trying to write down a few words in lieu of my ‘testimony’* and have struggled to do so. (Mostly because a life lived with God is too big and too miraculous to sum up under any word count).
Yet this particular tickle in my throat is a good reminder of the peace I live in with God.
It’s not a life without sickness or misfortune.
It’s not a life where this particular pandemic and all its consequences have gone unfelt.
It’s not rainbows and sunshine and the rain held back at all times, in all seasons. Time and chance affect us all, after all.
But with God there is always peace.
There has always been peace and clarity and hope and faith and love, all encompassed within his gift of the Holy Spirit which I received on my knees when I was twelve.
I spoke in tongues – as the Bible promises as a sign of the holy spirit – and was soon after baptised in accordance with God’s will.
I was only twelve and life had been pretty uncomplicated for me up until that point.
I had lived in pretty privileged circumstances and it had never occurred to me to doubt the existence of God or his presence in my family’s life.
But when I spoke in tongues I knew for sure, I knew myself. And since then - I’ve still gotten sick.
I’ve fallen on harder times, uncertain times, dealt with grief and family tragedy. I’ve meandered through depressive episodes and at times been completely aimless.
Yet through it all I have God.
And whether or not this particular tickle ends up being a portent for something far worse - I have never had cause to doubt that God has me in his hand.