Paul and Silas are in a Philippian prison after being beaten. At midnight, 'Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God.' Not complaining. Not despairing. Singing. An earthquake happens, the prison doors open, they get their jailer converted. But the immediate miracle isn't what strikes me. It's the joy.
My mom has stage 4 cancer. She's in her ninth month of chemotherapy. She's lost her hair, she's sick most days, she's terrified about dying. But she still laughs. She still sings in church. Last week she sang a hymn at the hospital. The nurses cried. She wasn't denying the reality of her situation. She was singing anyway.
This is the Christian faith at its most incomprehensible and most beautiful. Joy isn't denial. It's the deep conviction that God is good even when circumstances are terrible. Paul and Silas could have despaired. They had every reason to. But they'd encountered the risen Jesus. They knew that death wasn't the end. So they sang. My mom has that same faith. Even facing death, she sings. That's the gospel.
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