Amid the Flood

As I picked up the sticks and branches from the storm the other day, a distant church bell played "A Mighty Fortress is Our God."

I strained to hear the notes. At least that is what it sounded like to me. For the purposes of this blog post, let us conclude that it was and move on, for this writing would make no sense if not. Or even less sense than usual.

One of the stanzas: A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing

Luther had a robust theology that acknowledged that life in this world is full of the flood of mortal ills prevailing. Having Papist wanting to drown you alive or light you aflame on a stake can do that to a man.

These mortal ills prevail in the reality that they happen and are not prevented. God certainly could stay the flood and push the water back unto the skies, yet in His providence He does not. The greatest threat to a humanity's soul health is pride: The belief that we can command the waters of life to our ends. God lets us know that this is mere pompous illusion, for pride to be drowned it must encounter a greater power.

Psalm 46:3 & 4

Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells.



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