Monday, February 4, 2013


You've probably heard people say, "Good is the enemy of great."

I usually want to smack those people. It sounds so unappreciative. And it sounds so true.

God and I have hiked together for almost 25 years.  That alone is a testament to his goodness, patience, and love, especially since it includes my teens.  We can turn around and look at the vista we've come through. Those craggy teen years marked with the occasional spire. Long slow rises, a drop here and there, hills, dells, torrents of rain, seasons of meadow and flowers. We've trekked from Chile to Africa, to Cambodia, to St. Pete's in Rome. From Yakima to Atlanta to Little Rock. It's been quite a trip thus far, rarely expected and yet always getting better, though almost never easier.

We're at one of those places right now where things are good. We've hit a plateau and have rested in its shade. And now he's nudging me in the side, pointing out a twisty path to our right that, honestly, I'd rather not take. I mean, we're good, right?

Right. We're good. But I want more than that for you. So much more! I am great and I will not settle for anything less for my children. For you.

But surely there's a better way to where we're going. I can't see where that path heads, but from here it resembles a goat trail. It might not even lead up. What if it makes a big loop around the mountain and we find ourselves right back here again, only sweatier?

We won't.

But...I'm scared. I could fall.

I'll be with you. Even if you were to slip, I would catch you. I will not let you fall.

Yeah, but...I'm still scared.

I know. Trust me. I will be with you. I really will.

It doesn't look fun.

You've said that a lot on this trip. Have I ever taken you anywhere that didn't end up showing you a better view of my glory? Is there any steps I haven't made worth it?

No. Not one. But...okay. I'm still scared, though.

That's okay. Tell me every time you are, and we'll work through it. You're not doing this alone. You are too precious to me for me to ever let go of you, even for a moment, even when you take your eyes off me and stumble. I love you dearly and am with you always and forever, and when we're together, you won't face anything we can't overcome.

I know. (Sigh). Really, I do.

Come on then. It'll be great.

I'm going to hold your hand, then. Really tight. So tight your fingers might go white.

I actually like that.

Alright, then. Thank you. I love you, too.

Matt. 28:20; Psalm 37:23-24; John 16:33; Romans 8:28, 37; Psalm 27:13-14; Psalm 23

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