“All things must work together for my salvation.” That’s quite a bold statement. That means, dear Christian, that everything that has transpired this week in your life is sovereignly superintended for your eternal joy in God. As a week like this one draws closer to its conclusion, surely that is a reminder we all need for the days to come.

This past week has been one of historic disruption and trauma, laying bare before the watching world the darkest undercurrents of American civic life. I have taught survey courses in American history and American government to undergraduate students for years but never imagined we would see the disgraceful footage we saw within the Capitol on Wednesday. I will leave it to others more capable than I to provide a thoughtful and honest assessment of what has brought us to this moment. There will be competing interpretations, I am sure. But what is clear is that this display, and the forces and personalities that brought us to this point, have engendered revulsion within the American people. This is not who we are. Even more pointedly, we pray it is not who we are, nor who we will become as a nation.

But in my little world, the most urgent crisis was not in Washington, DC. It was on the other side of the country, in Escondido, California. I received word on Tuesday that my father was going to the emergency room for likely surgery on his brain. Suddenly, the agenda for the day went out the window and I was booking a flight for later that evening. I was certain I needed to be there, but was very much aware of the unknowns of what awaited.

Thanks be to God, the surgery went well and my father is now at home. My mother had been unable to be with him due to COVID protocols. I can assure you that COVID is stressing the healthcare system in California in ways that are troubling. But it has made me all the more grateful for the heroic doctors, nurses, and caregivers who are putting in extra shifts and serving with extraordinary skill, compassion, and joy. They were a regular demonstration of God’s grace to my father and to our family, even if via videoconferencing. And through it all, we were mindful of the many friends, colleagues, and loved ones who were praying for my father. When there is literally nothing you can do to give immediate care for those you most love, the prayers of other Christians become a particularly meaningful gift.

In all of this, the first question of the Heidelberg Catechism has come to mind.

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