“Beloved, if our heart does not condemn us, we have confidence before God.”
One of my friends grew up in a small, northern town with a stepfather whose job description included transporting the dead to the local funeral home. Supper-time conversations during the cold winter months frequently concerned which neighbor, acquaintance or school chum he had just delivered to the mortician. An alarming number of the deceased were fished out of the local lake.
Morbid, yes. But the point is that, like faith, the utility of confidence depends entirely on its object. If the ice is too thin, it won’t hold a snowmobile no matter how skilled and experienced its rider may be. Likewise with confidence misplaced.
