. . . or fathers or mothers or friends or family or jobs or employers or paychecks or inheritances or churches or pastors or health or pets or intelligence or education or accomplishments or charm or talent or strength or youth or beauty or skill or possessions or status or reputation or house or country or world.
But I know--you will. And so will I. And as always, our Heavenly Father, He Who does not forsake, the only One worthy of our unmitigated trust, will step in to pick up the broken pieces of whatever idolatrous piggy bank we have placed our hope in this time. And then He will not merely glue it back together but instead replace it with one that is so full of His eternal treasure that we can't even get a good rattle out of it, and that is likewise so impervious to breakage that repeated droppings will not compromise it. Even more amazing, no matter how many times we open up the bottom and pull out some of the contents, it is always full the next time we come back for more, because He continually supplies it with Himself.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy. May I have some Word and Sacrament, please?
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