Susan LaffertyThis past week, the stories surface. Continually. Through emails. Personal posts. Press releases.
Believers holding on to the confession of our hope.
I’m watching for this. The declaration. The profession. The holding fast of Hebrews 10:23. “Let us hold on to the confession of our hope without wavering, since He who promised is faithful.”
And all week long, I hear them.
Their confessions affirm what is real. True. We are sure of what we hope for. Certain of what we do not see.
We meet for lunch. Fellowship over Mediterranean food. Simply connecting while all around us the global spread of a virus ensues. Intensifies.
Events cancel. Borders tighten. Universities move to virtual classrooms. Our best-laid plans are disrupted. Interrupted. Changed.
We sit in sunshine and cool air. Sisters conversing about life journeys. Children. The hard and unexpected turns in the path this past year. The joy of following Him.
The urban forum. A gathering of the nations. We explore cities together. Examining them from various angles and worldviews.
One particular presentation leads us to unmapped neighborhoods. Unnamed places. In the depths of an urban slum.
Pushing out from the edge of a global city.
Streets and paths. Crossroads. Unmarked. Yet densely populated. With living, breathing communities.
