“It’s a really bad time to call, Dad. We’re distributing clothing in a refugee camp and it’s a bad situation. Please pray.” The background noises reminded me of chaos and anger. And that was it.
Oh, my God, please keep our son… To You belongs escape from death, and You surely surround us with favor as with a shield.
A few hours later, we called Daniel again and found out he was now safe. I breathed a sight of relief–and got angry; I don’t want to have to get nervous like that, I don’t want to have to deal with these kinds of dangers… An old song rose up within me, “Not my will, but Thine be done, that the fullness of Your Son may dwell within this heart that I have offered Thee, until everything I do becomes the thing that pleases You. Abba, Father, I would be a son indeed.”
Yes, Lord, perfect Your will in me. I will be a son indeed.

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