No Harder Road.

What is brave? When you can’t stand; when you wobble even on your knees, it’s that whisper of a prayer, the next beat of your heart when your body grows faint. I took a little step today. It felt like the smallest baby’s first tottering stumble forward. Yet it was the biggest step I’ve ever taken in my life. These have been days with no words to write, because the Lord has been writing on me. 

A friend reminded me, the road to the cross wasn’t easy. But our Jesus took those agonizing steps because there would be no healing without that road, without the pain. Sometimes, there is no easy way. And sometimes it is just the whisper of a prayer. But He hears it. The beat of our struggling heart, He strengthens, pours into with His love; breaths life into my soul just as He brought life into Adam. And I’m reminded of the promise that “all things work together for good.” All things aren’t good. All things don’t feel good. But He can make anything good. It’s been His skill set for centuries: turning captives into rulers, turning sinful hearts into His temple, turning nail pierced hands and death into life and joy and hope. And it’s this hope He breathes into me when all else trembles. It’s His hand I hold when all else is dark, and it’s this hope I look to until my faith becomes sight. And a God that is strong enough to carry a cross, is strong enough for anything you or I can lay at His feet.

It Is Well With My Soul

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Refrain:
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Horatio Spafford