I have a story. And it’s not a very short one, but it’s too long to explain in one human-sized post.
I have a story of redemption. Of being bought with a price. Having a purpose beyond surviving and pursuing the American dream. Growing more in love with a Savior who spilled blood and tears and sweat and misery over when I spat in His face over and over again. When He smiled and lifted my brokenness and mended me together with a love I can’t describe.
The road is long, the journey treacherous- even life threatening. Is it worth it?
I stop and stare at the black night sky. Is following Jesus worth pain? Is it worth rejection? Is it worth losing my life for? Only the testimonies of those who died before me can rejoice and sing His praise, proclaiming victory. They would die all over again to preach His love just a day more, I am sure.
I look at my heart. Am I as confident? Does my life reflect this desire? My feet stand on a ground that can only be tested by an earthquake. I pray, my God, that I will stand strong.