Life is heavy.

Sometimes it’s slow and subtle, like a steady leak in your boat that you can’t seem to catch up with. Eventually, the water is higher than you realized and it’s all you can do to tread. How did this hole even get here? Why didn’t I patch it sooner?

Other times, it’s an unsuspecting wave that rises up from the calm and consumes anything in it’s path. As you are tossed and turned by the water you wonder if you could ever make it out alive. How could this happen? Will this pain ever end? 

And then there are times when you’re standing on the shore witnessing a sinking boat or the crashing wave and you feel helpless and broken without a life raft. How could I help? What if that was me?

Our circumstances are rarely fair and unfortunately, we aren’t privy to the full picture. Pain is real and present in the midst of joy. Suffering challenges our hope. Loss confuses our faith. Darkness stirs a longing for the light…

“If our religion is something objective, then we must never avert our eyes from those elements in it which seem puzzling or repellent; for it will be precisely the puzzling or the repellent which conceals what we do not yet know and need to know.C.S. Lewis, Weight of Glory

Lately I have felt a constant heaviness, a weight of sorts for the pain around me. And if you’re like me, you want (or sometimes need) to fix it. To understand it. But today, as I sat outside and soaked in the signs of spring, I couldn’t help but rest in the surrounding beauty that follows the death of winter.

The warm sun on my back replacing the chill that once cut through my jacket. The vibrant green bursting from the once brown and lifeless branches. The scent of my sweet Jasmine vine inviting the tiniest hummingbird…and all at once I was reminded of Home.

I don’t know about you, but oftentimes in these places of confusion and doubt I am met with a deep desire for something greater. Something unchanging. Something eternal. When I can’t understand the why or the how, I can stand on the when and the who. That when we are present with Christ all of our sorrow will be washed away. All of our fears eclipsed by His glory. The grip of pain eternally broken, once and for all.

“At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.” C.S. Lewis, Weight of Glory

Maybe you’re like me and you’ve found yourself in one of those scenarios I mentioned before…Maybe you’re waist deep in the boat, maybe you’re struggling for air, or maybe you’re praying that God, in all His sovereignty, would provide rescue & safety for someone else. No matter the circumstance, be reminded that this hope we have in Him is the anchor for our souls. That He is no stranger to our suffering. And that the promise of His eternal presence is worth it.

“Lay down my burdens, I lay down my past
I run to Jesus, no turning back
Thank God Almighty, I’ll be free at last
In Heaven…I’m going home!”


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