I have a theory about this year of miracles. (And, yes, it was a year of miracles -it snowed on Christmas in Las Vegas for crying out loud!)

I haven't fleshed it out with fancy words, but it goes something like this: if the purpose of a miracle is to instill faith, then the face of God will be revealed. And, of course, faith can't be had without any real trial, and this plane of existence recoils in His presence. So amidst the redemption of any set of miracles, you can expect a fight, and some ugly, indignant pain in the worldly underbrush. It would be easy to get dragged under, thrashing about in that dry, prickly pride -never recognizing the full healing power of His glory. And, on the other hand, if we are willing and repentant, we are lifted safely above it all.

For the record, we are not elevated apes. We are more like degenerate angels, and if not capable of the miracles themselves, then at least qualified to perform the next best thing.

And so begins a new year.





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