It has been, of late, as if I've been carrying around a tremendous weight, which is as a smoothed, round stone, placed upon my shoulders. The straps have dug in, the weight pressed down, and the slow grinding of my hips has all but wearied me. Without thinking of the blessing beyond the burden, the weight steals, tricks, and skirts about a man with a nagging tenacity. Glimpses of glory entreat him to lean in and learn of this pressing, but as it is, the flesh wants relief more than wisdom. It is the glory of God to withhold relief, and it is the goodness of God to show Himself in these squeezed little conduits where grace flows and heals, and where the buckled man is smoothed and resigned.

As paper gives when wet, this weight has slipped and split, and as gems are buried in veins of earth and rock, so these jewels have been tucked in me unaware. Pain has been seeping and spreading, and with it, my mind has darted and latched onto fear and anxiety. Couple pain with years of waiting, and little revelation, and you've got yourself despair soup with little prep. I forget how guarded I must be, and last week, that figurative stake that'd been driving into my spine suddenly brought life, and with it, the realization that the Lord was so gracious to press me so...

I'd begun listening to sermons on pain, suffering, and the discipline of the Lord, and as those choice words landed and lodged in my heart, my soul began to be restored. Hebrews 12 was the text for the three sermons, and those known texts became so beautiful and dread, that I had to stop, often. It is great shame that such time is wasted in believing lies. Unfortunately, greater shame comes from the actions that flow from our cracked perspectives... Nevertheless, grace shows us a better way, and enables us to turn and walk upon it.

Grief, sorrow, and loss seem never to stay at their sequestered lots. They lament, droop, and come out to browse all those around them. The browsing could be enough, but this soul voyeurism is treachery, and treason is trailing right behind. Sorrow tempts and assails us with irrationality, and it is brittle ground upon which to stand and assess the God of our circumstances. Undoubtedly it is vexing to consider the seemingly random events that daily unfold all about us, and indeed, this is precisely why Truth must be the filter through which we view everything, and especially in our vulnerability.

It seems we like formulas, and for this reason, our looking onto the lives of other's tricks us unknowingly, and assessments are formed that become to us as solid as stone. Little doubts take root, which began as imprints -- like crow's feet on sand -- and in little time, these sprouts sprawl, and the dropped seeds divert the streams which contain life. The living Word finds little unoccupied territory, and thus the Truth is squelched and choked, and finds soil only where lies have not yet prospered.

To be continued...