Susan LaffertyThe tropical rain was pounding the pavement, flooding the side yard, pouring dense and loud. Riah laughed and said, “We call this a rich man’s rain.” Oh? I looked up curiously. She continued, “On days like this, the poor man cannot work. And when he doesn’t work, he doesn’t get paid. And when he doesn’t get paid, he doesn’t eat and his family doesn’t eat. That’s why we call it a rich man’s rain.”
Oppression runs rampant in our world today. Trampling the poor. Persecuting the faithful. Trafficking the helpless. Destroying innocence. It’s splashed across screens here in America and on the other side of the world.
I’ve looked into the eyes of those caught in this evil. Devastated by it. I’ve heard their stories. I know those in the thick of trying to reach and rescue and rehabilitate and restore. It’s no simple task. No quick “glory story.” It’s hard and messy.
The gospel is the only answer. This I know with all my heart.
But some days it feels like darkness is winning.
Expectation. During Advent, we anticipate the coming of the Messiah—God’s promise fulfilled. Expectation.
Somewhere along the way we’ve made that word plural. Expectations. Which lead to unmet expectations. A word full of hope and glory wanders into unfulfillment and pain and sadness.