Due Process Of Pain

I’m not sure how much time had passed. Seconds? Hours? Just time. I finally opened my eyes to see our feet intertwined. I looked longer to see the little splashes of tears dappled across the wooden floor. I tried to guess which were mine and which were hers. It really didn’t matter. Pain is pain. There was nothing I could do. There was nothing I could say. All I could do was let her lean on me as I held her. We had both lost a dear love, but I kept my heartache hidden so I keep strong for her.

This is how I deal with things. This is what I do when I lose control and feel utterly helpless to tragedy. I find someone to wrap my arms around and comfort. I do it because I hate seeing others in pain. I do it because I love deeply. I do it because I know of no other way.

However I am grieving. There is no way around that. I was struck with two accounts of horrible news yesterday. Two of my favorite people on earth are facing death. It all happened so suddenly. I’m trying so hard not to be terrified. I had to tell a family member today. I had to watch as her face drained of blood and fill with anguish. God show me what to do. Show me how to help ease this.

Why must I always face awful things alone?

***

That’s not entirely true. I have some around me who jump at the chance to see me vulnerable. They slink in at these moments and try to use it for personal gain. I can’t do this. They don’t see the point in investing in someone if they cannot gain something more. Why must so much of people’s “kindness” be twisted in selfishness?

People will always do the right thing… if it benefits them. However, true giving requires sacrifice. It means putting aside our needs and wants, so we can truly focus on the other person. We don’t do this to gain accolades when the person heals. You have never “fixed” anyone. That healing is because of God alone. We are just honored with the chance to see the person experience God.

I don’t see Your hand yet, God. But I know it’s here. Help me to encourage others in that fact. Thank you God for sacrificing, and loving broken creatures that could never match your investment. I trust you…always. All will be well.

UPDATE (a day later)

I wrote out of emotion last night…not faith. However the Lord graced me with faith and joy in abundance when I woke up this morning. Since I have rallied my entire family and poured out all that God had poured into me. There is prayer. There is praise.  God is ALWAYS enough.

 

Armor

This dream was commonplace. I was not Joan of Arc, Boudica, or Douglas Macarthur. I wasn’t fighting a battle and no one was trying to kill me. I was merely meandering about town. I came across a building with numerous cars in the parking lot. It caught my eye, so I made my way to the entrance. It was a clothing store aptly named “The Upright Citizen”. The inside was buzzing with foot traffic, and I was shocked that I had never heard of the store before. While wandering about the aisles, I looked at the clothes and stated:

“I own that.”

“I’m wearing that.”

“I’ve had that forever, that’s in style now?”

I was so confused because people were making a fuss over things I thought were customary. However the more I listened in, the more I noticed the frustration in the patrons’ voices:

“These clothes fit funny. It doesn’t suit me.”

“This pattern will make me look weird.”

“I don’t know how to wear this.”

“This feels uncomfortable.”

Upon further inspection, I noticed that although the store was busy, no one was buying anything. All the sizes of styles sat there untouched. Everyone wanted to look like an upright citizen, but felt too uncomfortable in the clothes. Others were worried it would make them look too different and therefore, more susceptible to criticism.

Moving onward, I overheard crying. There in the middle of one of the aisles was a former friend on the floor. It was obvious she was in pain. I cradled her head in my chest and stated that everything was going to be fine. Since my cart was not full of clothes, I had plenty of room to pick her up and place her in the basket. In the next scene I was taking her home to a sorority called “The Hen House”.

I looked for the other women of the house to see if they could help me care for my friend, but the house seemed deserted. Those who were there were zoned in front of the television. Kate looked up at me and said she would sleep better if she knew I was outside keeping guard. I told her I would take care of everything and there was no need to worry anymore.

~~~

 

It is not enough to look like loving Christians who are willing to put others first, we need to cultivate this in ourselves over time. Quickly throwing on “upright” attire will feel awkward and uncomfortable. Trying to dress the part will cause us to miss the real issues that are hidden. While others were criticizing how dowdy the clothes were, I was already dressed and adjusted to the material, free to find the need.

Like I stated in my last post, being someone who only criticizes the Kingdom of God in order to justify selfish actions, does not make a Christian.  Always trying to do the right thing looks weird to the world (that will mock you and belittle your efforts). Although the world may think you are odd for being passionate about a God who seems “outdated”, you are a viable person who is capable of being used to bless others and bring them home.

Great warriors know how to move in armor. Despite the limitations and weight, they train in it to prepare for battle. They know how to make the armor work best. They do not train without it for the sake of ease, because if they do it will feel cumbersome during the fight. They will not only fight enemies, but also their own uncomfortable armor if they are not used to the weight. This will leave them susceptible when the fight is most critical. Why should Christianity and the armor of God be any different?

“Not what one would think of when the idea of comfort comes to mind. But pajamas will not protect you from arrows.”

It is tempting to live an easy life where one can effortlessly throw on a virtuous looking jacket for a few hours to blend in… but honestly, what is the point? Why bother pretending at all? Disguising oneself to look moral does not benefit anyone else, but fills a selfish/pretentious need for a short time. It is the miniscule band-aid to a gapping wound. The easy road may mean you are more accepted, but the easy road has yet to create a great leader. No one of importance rose to that spot by avoiding the sacrifice of selflessness and responsibility. This is something I have to remind myself daily because slipping into an internal focus is far too simple, but I do know the sacrifice is worth it.

In the past two weeks, my sister is the third person the Lord has entrusted me with to encourage and nurture. I am honored and humbled that the Lord trusts me to love them on His behalf and lead them home.

 

War Mongers

Thoughts of the what led to the American Civil War have set up camp at the forefront of my brain this week. I went line by line through The Missouri Compromise of 1820. This was the sacred document that defined the limitations of slave states over an acquired area that seemed limitless. It was the Compromise that all politicians had grown up under. It was a document that shaped their ideas of compromise and politics. But after nearly 30 years, this bandaid could no longer cover the gapping wound. Nothing was concrete. Everything was questionable and therefore moldable to selfish wants. When it came to the free nature of Kansas territory, those in Washington could no longer agree. Those in office threw up their hands and gave the power to the people through the great experiment of Popular Sovereignty. Fearful and aggressive, people from all over America headed for Kansas ready to fight for their ideals. Bloody raids, burning towns, and illegal votes tore Kansas apart. Kansas had it’s own civil war before the rest of the nation and it was obvious that there was no turning back.

The Americans were of similar decent and cultural backgrounds, but they had fractured. They came together less that 100 years earlier to fight for a common goal. It was difficult to put aside differences then, but as Benjamin Franklin simply put in his famous cartoon, “JOIN OR DIE”. Now, with the onslaught of a  national war, the experiment of democracy appeared to have failed. Comfort, wealth, power, and land all in the name of “freedom” made people self-consumed and greedy. It led to elitist pride that could not see giant flaws in a hateful society. This pride, and the fear of losing it, led to deep distrust in others. Old wounds didn’t heal from compromises, it merely transformed into deep seeded bitterness. As humans, I believe bitterness is our greatest downfall.

The disease of bitterness is one epidemic that doesn’t need rats or contaminated water to spread, just the broken human psyche.

Bitterness tempts us to believe that we are the most important person on earth. Our pains should be everyone’s pains. We crave to be noticed and vindicated. Suddenly we do not feel like ourselves without this nurtured cloak of resentment. It prompts us to ignore God and lies to us that we are better off on our own. Bitterness allows us to abuse others and not think twice about it. “I’m broken, therefore I’m allowed to be cruel.” We no longer treat people as the creation of God, but mere targets for our stinging arrows of selfish emotion. Not only do we feel justified to throw our arrows, but we expect them to sit there and take it. Everyday we wake up to once again fight in our own self-contained war; a war with no heros.

 

Culture Shock

“Where is your ID? You don’t want to be sent to the office,” said the woman with the clipboard.

“Actually, I am looking for the office. I’m a guest professor, “ I replied with a smile.

“Oh, haha. Wow, you look young. It is down the hall and to the right.”

I made my way through the throngs of students, still completely unaware of where I was going. With great relief I reached the office and signed in. The principal greeted me and asked me asked me if I need help to the History/English Department. I nodded. Unable to leave her desk, she called out to a nearby male teacher.

“Mr. Adams, can you please show our guest to her classroom?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said from outside the room. He walked in and just stared at me for a moment, “Uh, ok. You can follow me.” He quickly turned around and maintained an adequate distance ahead of me. I noticed his right hand fidget with his wedding ring. He didn’t say anything for a while, but the school was big and it was a long walk to hallway P. Finally, without any eye contact, he said, “You, uh, teach?”

“Not officially.”

“Huh, ok.”

“What subject do you teach?”

“Math. Just math. Here is your class. Ok, bye,” he turned around without ever once meeting my eyes and quickly left the hallway. It was uncomfortable, but welcomed. I have no desire to befriend a married man. I will never make that mistake again.

There I was, in front of a classroom, attempting to explain the Marxist Revolution in Spain. I tried tying in as many examples I could think of to catch their interest. I spoke of Salvador Dali the surrealist painter. I spoke of George Orwell and his allegory Animal Farm. The students looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. Behavior problems ensued and chaos took over the class. Although I am petite, I became intense. One student hid under a table to avoid doing an assignment. I followed him.

“Girl, you have got to be kidding me,” he said exasperated. With help, he ended up finishing the assignment. I found out later that it was the first one he had completed all semester. In the next class a fight broke out and I found myself right in the middle. Nearly hit by all the swinging arms, I was grateful that security came quickly. However one of the students had to take a placement test before being sent home. I was put in charge of that. Soon I was in a room with this young man who was desperate to get me to hate him. He mocked me, threatened me, and yelled in my face. I sat there and told him that I knew he could do this. Desperate to quit he tried breaking his own hand. That’s when I found myself right in his face. In a calm, but firm tone I told him what was expected and that he could take his time.

“I hate you,” he said intensely, “and you hate me.”

“No, I do not.”

“Then I will spend the rest of the day making you wish you did.”

Needless to say, it was an extremely overwhelming day. I was in one of the toughest high schools within a 50-mile radius. Many of the students I met had extreme learning challenges and intense behavior issues. This was so different than my education.

I grew up privileged. I studied at a private, college prep school. I never had to worry about anything other than studying. I participated in all the clubs and was on multiple sports teams. Sure, it was still high school and I was faced with peer pressure and challenges, but overall I thrived. My love for learning, writing, reading, and speaking flourished. Because of the high academic abilities of the students, we were able to learn vast amounts of information with creativity and endless freedom. What bliss.

Being at this rugged high school was a shock to my system. The few moments of stability within a class were some of the only moments of peace in these students waking lives. My heart was devastated and I prayed all the way home.

These teachers want to see their students succeed and grasp that love for learning. But insecurities have a way of twisting this good intention into something negative and judgmental. This mindset doesn’t end in high school. As Christians, we will often come across people (even other Christians) that see our love for them as revolting. They loathe that exposed feeling as we notice their potential and begin to express affection. You can sense that they would much rather prefer your actual hatred; this way they can label you a hypocrite and can continue to feel justified in their own damaging habits. Honestly, it is something we are all guilty of at some point. Love is not something that is easily absorbed. Love beckons us to grow. It urges us to be selfless. It feels like too great a sacrifice if we fail to see all the benefits. Acceptance, understanding, wisdom, joy, comfort and peace are there, we just have to try.

I wish I knew the cure to making all this vile misunderstanding go away. I wish love were incapable of being manipulated in the minds of others. I wish we were not so consumed with our own secrets and issues, that way we could actively participate in the love that surrounds us.

But tomorrow is another day. It is another chance to see if the walls of self-consumed defiance crumble just enough to actually notice the good that awaits us.

 

Last Year

WordPress just informed me that it is my one-year anniversary of this blog. Honestly, I’m shocked I haven’t abandoned it by now. Very few people who know me personally know about this blog. I like the secrecy because my intent is not to attack or offend anyone. It is just a place for me to examine situations in life and try to understand it reasonably.

Let’s see, a year ago….my goodness. Life was so different.

I was living with one of my oldest friends in a new city. Although the living arrangement was only for a short time, our friendship wasn’t strong enough to outlast it. She was using me to become more popular. When I didn’t perform how she wanted me to, she would become hysterical. I tried my best to accommodate her, desperate to keep the friendship alive and make the most out of an uncomfortable situation. But it is impossible to please someone whose ego has them trapped in their own heads. When I couldn’t live up to everything she desired of me, she turned me into a villain.

I still remember the moment her mind flipped the switch from friend to enemy. We were getting ready to go out to brunch with a few friends. I delayed awhile by reading a book (since it always took her 4 times longer to get ready). Finally I threw on some clothes and looked for my mascara, but I had lost it. Since it basically is the only makeup I use, I decided to go to the store before and pick some up. I informed my roommate of my plan and all hell broke loose.

“DAMN IT, JACKIE! SCREW YOU AND YOUR  F@#$ *%^ MASCARA! She threw all her things in her hands on the floor and collapsed onto the bed screaming.

“WHY ARE YOU TYRING TO MAKE MY LIFE HELL?!? YOU CAN’T BE PRETTY! F@*# YOU!”

She was wailing and convulsing. I had no idea what to do. Never had I seen someone react so intensely over nothing. I gave her a moment to calm down and just prayed. I knew other things were bothering her, so I didn’t want to fight over the surface problem. Half an hour later, I went in and sat with her. I gave her a backrub and prayed blessings over her. She talked about how frustrated with life she was, but never apologized. Even though she said everything was fine, I knew she hated me. I also knew that no matter what I did, I couldn’t change her opinion. From then on all her actions towards me were passive aggressive.

Desperate to get out of the house I started dating… a lot. I also became involved in as many church activities as possible. But gossip followed me and I felt terribly isolated. It hurts like hell when you try with all your heart to do the right thing and bless people, only to be treated like the embodiment of evil. She no longer speaks to me and neither do any of our mutual friends.

Part of me wished I could hate her back. It would make it so much easier. But I know that despite how she has treated me, she is a wonderful person. She loves God, is dedicated to her job, helpful to her church, and really funny. I can’t hate her; I care about her too much. Plus reacting badly to a situation doesn’t make us horrible people, just human. It is how we choose to grow from it that reminds us that we are more than our earthly selves, but made in the image of God.

But this year is different. I have been blessed with incredible friends. Two of them were old friendships from high school that were beautifully mended. I can only thank God for that, because it is rare that people try to fix the old and broken. I am in awe by all those I am surrounded by.

I am so grateful for heaven and the final restoration of fragmented friendships.

 

Je t’aime plus

J’adore aujourd’hui!

~Warning, this post get’s a bit gruesome.~

I have always found this day to be fascinating. While many focus on candy and Hallmark sentiments, there is something both tragic and beautiful at the heart of it. Although most that is known about St. Valentine is cloaked in mystery, a few things are known. He died on February 14 269 A.D. However even that fact is debatable from the date to the number of saints. There are many Saint Valentines in the Roman Catholic priesthood and two in particular at the time of death.  Most historians conclude that there was just one man, a saint who became bishop, that was beheaded for his faith.  Although there is little question of the martyrdom of a saint, the event may have been romanticized by Chaucer (author of the Canterbury Tales) in the poem “The Parliament of Fowls”. He actually used the term “Valentine’s Day” which obviously is still in use.

History aside, what I find most incredible is how we celebrate the death of this man. It is a day of love, affection, and declarations of the heart. What an honor to have one’s legacy be wrapped in the beauty of love. This man willingly faced punishment because the love in his heart for God was bigger than death itself. This inspires me beyond words. Although hardly comparable, I often dream of dying for my faith. One dream in particular still haunts me.

I was about to be hung. I looked down and all across my skin were tattoos of the sins of others mixed with inked hearts of love. I was dying so they wouldn’t have to. The enemy was incensed at such affection, so he cut out each tattoo from my body. My skin still crawls when I think about the deep incisions. Mutilated, I dropped to the floor from the loss of blood and remember looking up into the heavens and saying, “Thank you God.”

I’m not stating that true love for God requires martyrdom, but I’m expressing how this love is greater than the worst of the world. It is greater than fame, money, and pleasure. It is eternal. When one is blessed enough to taste the divine nature of God, so many other things fade in comparison. I still remember the look in my boyfriend’s eyes as he looked past death and saw the face of Jesus. Skin was falling off his body from the burns, but he raised up his hands and attempted to spend his last moments of life praising God. Throughout the agony, he saw something I didn’t. He witnessed the fulness of Glory here on earth moments before his body gave up and unleashed his spirit.

This love is more than chocolate or being romanced, because when it is based in God it is the substance worth living (and dying) for.

**CATHOLIC VALENTINES PRAYER

Praise to the One whose love stirs the ancient embers
sparks the breath of prayer

Praise to the One whose love entices the wandering
beckons the confused

Praise to the One whose love grows wings on the weary
dreams hope in the discouraged

Praise to the One whose love soothes with the ointment of mercy
transforms with the touch of compassion

Praise to the One whose love threads the energy of friendship
stitches the strength of fidelity

Praise to the One whose love tickles the soul with laughter
urges the heart toward joy

Praise to the One whose love embraces the untamed
dances with the passionate

All praise to this Gracious One
All gratitude to this Beloved
All love to this Mentor of Friendship
All devotion to this Shaper of Hearts.

 

Deep Breath, Heavy Sigh

Although a few days had passed, the memory haunted my mind all day long.

“Maybe it was all just an elaborate dream,” I tell myself, unable to contain the emotion of reality.

But it was no dream. I entered that hospital. I walked the halls. I made nervous chatter with the nurse in the elevator. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Wandering around a bit lost, I check the smeared numbers on my hand again and looked for the matching room. Upon seeing the door, my heart sank. This is not where I wanted to be. This is not where he should be. I heard laughter inside and my anxiety momentarily subsided. After a deep breath, I walked in. The first few people I made eye contact with were strangers. Everyone stopped talking. I wanted to walk out; this was already too much.

“Jackie girl! You’re here,” said a voice from behind another tall stranger. I looked over to see my friend, sitting on the bed clenching a pillow. He looked so different from the accident (although I hardly knew him to begin with). Everyone else was close friends and family… I really didn’t belong.

Suddenly the weight of the gift in my hand alerted my conscience.

“Oh, I uh… I have this for you,” I said resting it on the bed and then quickly stepping back. Before I was out of reach he grabbed my hand and squeezed. Even in his weakened state, he was so much stronger than me.

“Thank you.” His eyes were deep with feeling and I could tell he had been crying. My heart ached, rendering me speechless. I made my way to a nearby seat and the evening continued.

Laughter, tears, and intense silence cycled continuously. It was terribly overwhelming. People came and went while the emotions repeated. Time seemed to stop, but soon it was time for me to leave. Visiting hours were over.

I nodded and waved as I wished him well then made my way to the door.

“Jackie, wait.” I stopped. “Come here.” I approached slowly, burdened by anxiousness.

He grabbed me and pulled me into his chest for a hug. I don’t think anyone has ever held me so close. I froze. He kissed my cheek and buried his face into my neck. There we stood for what felt like an eternity.  Perhaps it meant nothing to him and this was a typical hug, but my personal space was destroyed. I felt defenseless and vulnerable. He moved his lips to my ear and whispered,

“I love you.”

In nervous reaction, my body clenched. I didn’t say anything. He held me tighter and pressed the words out of me, “ I love you too.”

I never say that. I was worried that I didn’t mean it… I hardly know him. How could I possibly love him?

But this moment wasn’t about me and my overanalyzed thoughts. It was about bestowing the man in front of me all the support and care I could muster.

I am learning that there are numerous facets of love; and this was one I had not yet encountered. Deep feeling for a practical stranger. I love him in the way that I crave only good things for him: healing, restoration, and beautiful blessings.

So many thoughts racing through my head… I hope I can sleep tonight.

 

Build Me Up Buttercup… (don’t break my heart)

She sat there inhaling her cigarette a little deeper. I waited for her to finish her thought, but she just stopped talking. In the midst of explaining her frustrations, she had caught a revelation. After everything was said aloud, she realized how terribly she had been treated. The cause of this hurt was someone she referred to as her best friend. But no matter how she felt for him, this man was NOT her friend.

This man was an insecure jerk playing with her emotions. He came up to me later and we started talking. It was obvious he wanted to be with her, but he was scared. His life was not where he wanted it to be. He was not the man he wanted to be. But most importantly, he wanted a guarantee that he wouldn’t get hurt. So until he was sure, he kept her in the friend zone. But I repeat, this man was NOT her friend.

Why? Because he made everything about him. This entire friendship was on his terms. With all his effort guarding his heart, he made no attempt back to be a decent human being to a woman who cared deeply for him. He was driving her away.

So why doesn’t she just say something? Because selfish men have their women friends scared to speak their minds. At the slightest mention of concern women are labeled crazy, unstable, and possessive. Therefore men are not accountable in the friendship and get away with acting uncivil.

Just like this woman, sometimes it takes awhile to discover we are in a one sided friendship because our love for the other person has us blinded. He does not deserve her.

Man or woman, we all have been there….stuck in the heart wrenching, one sided friendship. Investing all that I have in a person seems like it would eventually pay off, but often I feel like I could fall off the face of the earth and they wouldn’t notice. Until they realized how it affected them personally, turning the situation into something all about them. Saying drivel like, “Well, I knew she would leave me.”

I didn’t realize how many one sided friendships I had until I moved away. Out of the rubble of many broken relationships, I made two incredible friends. Both of these men were confident and consistent in their consideration. At first I was thrown by their attention, mistaking it for something more than friendship. But romance was never on the table, and I realized they were just treating me like a friend should. It put so many other relationships in perspective. Although there is distance now, I still hear from them every few days through sincere texts and kind letters.

I am confident my investment in these friendships isn’t wasted. For that, I adore them even more.

 

What Lingers Still…

Honestly, everything in me wants to go home. However that tiny speck of determination to make this move worth it, keeps winning out. That speck has kept me in horrible situations over and over again. I hate giving up.

But this wasn’t what I expected. The safety net of all I had planned on has disappeared. Now I am freefalling into the unpleasant unknown.

The peace of rest has always been a form of refuge in the past, but not here. Every night each dream is a nightmare. I die daily, only to wake up to the same purgatory. Sure it’s not hell. I am safe. I am healthy. But it’s not heaven either.

I went to church last night to try and mend my fractured faith. All was well, until the end. The pastor had called for communion and motioned to the band to play their last song. The first few notes did nothing to stir me, but the lyrics cut my heart like a knife. In my entire life, I had only ever heard one person sing that song. He sang it with such passion and earnestness. But the man on stage wasn’t him and the song felt like a sorry imitation. My heart beat faster and faster, while my eyes began to water. I wanted to scream. Of all the songs, why this one?

Why a song that reminded me of broken plans, unfulfilled promises, and deep grief?

Suddenly my memories whisked me back to a specific evening. There I stood over his grave, my heart aching with sadness and confusion. A mutual friend walked up and stood next to me. We looked at the unturned soil before us in silence. Finally after some time he spoke in a choked whisper:

“That should have been you.”

I knew exactly what he meant, because I felt it too. The man in the ground had saved my life only days before the end of his. I tried my hardest to return the favor, but I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t save him.

Trying to hold back the mournfulness, I realized how much baggage I still posses. I typically consider myself a strong and temperate person, but at this point I just felt like a broken mess.

I’m still hopelessly in love with him.

 

When Faith Hurts

Often times we paint Christ as an inclusive man, desperate for attention. He is seen as that one friend that is always available when first plans fall through. Sure, perhaps He isn’t your first choice, but it is better than spending time alone. We use our heart as the ultimate bargaining tool, and that Christ should be satisfied with the little we allot to him.

Then, in times of desperation, we transform this meek friend into a powerful politician. We recognize the competence of Jesus and his ability to transform situations. However, this change of view is still ultimately selfish. “I will vote for you Jesus, as long as you can promise me the good life. As long as you work to improve my standard of living, you will have my loyalty.” We treat God as our civil servant, who only has authority as long as we allow it.

These attitudes make us targets for apathy and, sadly, the inevitable falling away from Christ altogether. True love takes passion and trust…ideals that bring out the uncomfortable nature of our insecurities. If we can never give our allegiance to anyone, we are useless.

“If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his own father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters – yes, and even his own life – he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after Me cannot be my disciple,” Luke 14:26-27

If a politician were to say those words, he would not obtain a single vote. “What do you mean hate my family and my life? You require too much.”

But Christ is using this as an example. Our love of God should be so consuming that in comparison all our other loves appear heinous. This kind of sacrifice still seems like too much to ask….unless we stop viewing Christ as our civil servant, and instead like a mountain guide.

Trekking through a mountain range is no easy feat. On my way through the Rockies, I passed through an area once referred to as “Dead Man’s Ridge” by those who dared the Oregon Trail ages ago. The weak did not make it. In order to endure, people had to be determined and also hopeful that the outcome of the coast would be worth it. So when Jesus calls out to us to follow Him and trust Him through the tough terrain of life, it is to ultimately save us. For everlasting happiness, we must put aside our present comforts.

We all go through this journey; it is those who trust in God that have a guide. Others trek and forge their own path, with no idea of what is before them or the purpose of it all. These travelers meander, stop often to self-indulge, and therefore never escape the mountains. They will never see the coast, feel the warm sea breeze, and obtain the final satisfaction of being “home.”