Knee-deep in exile, the...
Illustration
Knee-deep in exile, the Israelites had a lot to fear. They feared for their beloved country
that had been shattered before they were dragged away into exile. They feared their
captors. They feared their children might like that new wild land better than the land of
their fathers and mothers. They looked out at a bleak future. No wonder they feared.
Isaiah, one of the exiles himself, reminded them that the God who had been with them
would be with them in the hard present and in the scary yet to be. He reminded them once
again that because God was there they need not fear.
In the late '60s, Patricia Neal was nominated for an Academy Award for best actress. She had performed beautifully in The Subject Was Roses. Most people who watched her amazing performance knew little of her story. In 1960, she was wheeling her son across Madison Avenue in New York when a cab hit the baby carriage and smashed it into the back of a bus. The baby lived, but there were months of hospitalization and the child had several operations. Two years later, Patricia's oldest daughter, Olivia, got the measles and died quite suddenly one night without warning. Then in February of 1965, Patricia herself almost died. She had three massive brain hemorrhages, five heart attacks, her speech and vision were impaired, and her keen mind was blunted. But she would not be defeated. She fought back in a terrible, agonizing battle. The Academy nominated her for an Oscar, not out of sympathy, but because of her great performance that came after great suffering. A reporter asked her one day about the secret of her survival and recovery. He said she must have had great courage. She shook her head and told him it was not courage. She pointed to a large copper plaque that was nailed to one of the beams overhead in the room they sat in. She said this was her secret. The plaque read: "Fear knocked at the door. Faith answered. No one was there."
(Quoted from Roger Lovette's, A Faith of our Own [Philadelphia: Pilgrim Press, 1976], pp. 77-78.)
In the late '60s, Patricia Neal was nominated for an Academy Award for best actress. She had performed beautifully in The Subject Was Roses. Most people who watched her amazing performance knew little of her story. In 1960, she was wheeling her son across Madison Avenue in New York when a cab hit the baby carriage and smashed it into the back of a bus. The baby lived, but there were months of hospitalization and the child had several operations. Two years later, Patricia's oldest daughter, Olivia, got the measles and died quite suddenly one night without warning. Then in February of 1965, Patricia herself almost died. She had three massive brain hemorrhages, five heart attacks, her speech and vision were impaired, and her keen mind was blunted. But she would not be defeated. She fought back in a terrible, agonizing battle. The Academy nominated her for an Oscar, not out of sympathy, but because of her great performance that came after great suffering. A reporter asked her one day about the secret of her survival and recovery. He said she must have had great courage. She shook her head and told him it was not courage. She pointed to a large copper plaque that was nailed to one of the beams overhead in the room they sat in. She said this was her secret. The plaque read: "Fear knocked at the door. Faith answered. No one was there."
(Quoted from Roger Lovette's, A Faith of our Own [Philadelphia: Pilgrim Press, 1976], pp. 77-78.)
