If God wanted to reach us, how would He do it? He might speak directly—unless we were deaf. He might paint pictures—unless we were blind. He might write a book—unless we couldn’t read. Or He could send a note.

But what kind of stationery would He use? Stone costs a fortune to mail; it scratches the furniture and renders many languages poorly. Surely He’d choose something better, something that received ink without smear, transported easily, and conveyed every nuance of His intent.

It turns out that for His most important correspondence, He uses only the best. For His most passionate love letters, He uses only the costliest material. He designs each tablet for its own unique communication. Some He fashions for wooing, others He makes for consummation. Some He molds for direction, and a few He crafts for the most difficult message of all—trust when none can rescue.

The other morning a living epistle said, “Unbelievers need to see us suffer with the same things they suffer, but with the hope they lack.”

So, what happened the last time your calamity cast brilliant light into someone’s dark corner?

Psalm 3:1-4; 2 Corinthians 1:3-7; 2 Corinthians 3:1-3; Romans 12:1-2; Hebrews 2:10-18; Hebrews 11:32-38; 1 Corinthians 12:1-11