Old rusty shackles and a key lie abandoned on a dusty stone floor in a dim room.
Sixth Tuesday of Easter – Acts 16:22-34; John 16:5-11
“Suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken. And immediately all the doors were opened, and everyone’s bonds were unfastened.”
How often do we feel trapped in our own prisons—of anxiety, a difficult situation, or our own weakness? We want God to send an earthquake right now, on our schedule. But Paul and Silas show us a different way. They were praying and singing hymns to God *before* the ground ever shook.
Our only real support is God, but we can’t force His hand. Faith is that radical act of letting go, of praising Him in the dark, even when the chains feel heavy. It’s a leap of trust, believing that His goodness is real even when we can’t see it. God’s help often comes in unimaginable ways, precisely when we stop trying to predict or control it. He shatters our expectations to remind us that He alone is God.
Come, Holy Spirit, and let the fire of Your love burn in my heart. Help me to praise You in my prison and trust in Your perfect timing. Give me the courage to desire only Your will. Amen.
