“This is too hard. I want to quit.” Those were the words I said to Dave last night.
Even as it left my lips, I knew I didn’t mean it. I knew I was being tested (Isn’t it always a test?). Still, I felt everything and soaked for a while in it. A good me-bath of self pity.
This morning, there are a few things I know about life:
Feelings follow faith. I choose to forgive.
Tomorrow will be better.
I am loved. I can risk loving you (that’s a song).
I don’t want to take that risk again. I really don’t. I want to bury my Self away where it’s safe.
But if I do, who will be there to tell you it’s okay to keep going? To get back up and keep walking in fearless love?
There is no fear in love (that’s a verse).
Fear is so much easier. Fear says, “Never again.” “Please go away.”
But faith says, “I will” with a big, fat period at the end.
Because Christ already has done it. Already loved. Already borne. Suffered. Carried. Bent low. To-the-grave, low. Already risen above it all.
So I will let Him carry me where He’s already been, and close my eyes and keep reaching, holding, bearing. Knowing I will wake up on the other side of this, surprised by Love.