Today is St. Patrick’s Day. I never thought much about it till I married a good Catholic boy from Up North. (I tried my best to like corned beef on St. Patty’s Day, but it just wasn’t meant to be.)
This morning, I was reading about the real St. Patrick on Britannica.com and learned that he was born in Britain, taken from his family by Irish raiders, and enslaved for six years, a time when he had only his faith to rely on for strength and hope. He escaped and returned to Britain but was held against his will yet again before finally being reunited with his family. Then God called him to help the very people who had started the harsh chain of events in his life—the Irish.
He resisted at first because he wasn’t well educated and didn’t believe he was ready to lead, but eventually he felt such a strong pull toward the Irish people that he had to go. Once he was there, he let go of his doubts and fears, preaching the message of Christ all across the country yet always dealing compassionately with non-Christians.
The threats to his life never went away. But their power to stop him did.
So many times I’ve let my own fear and doubt get in the way of what God has already empowered me to do, if I would only step out on faith.
Praying, this Sunday morning, for more faith, less fear, more willingness to serve, less doubt about my readiness.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy
shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
Psalm 23
[Shamrock image by Brian J Geraghty @ Freerangestock.com]
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