He simply said, “I AM.”
Shame beckoned me to stay. Grace called me to find my way home.
Tears ran down my cheeks as I started the slow slide into the MRI machine. I’ve never thought of myself as claustrophobic but the image of the pain that was sure to tear through my shoulder and down my arm like a freight train with no way to sit up or change position had set me on edge. Or maybe I was already dangling precariously from said edge. The frozen shoulder that is attempting to preside over my world has worn out…
Hope for all that makes you feel battered and worn.
Pain in its many forms is a common denominator for those of us who share this world.
Whether, I am having a day rich in victory or a day where I am looking for the reset button and am needing to go to the Lord in humble repentance.
Rather it is about the fact that hope and pain are not independent of each other. They are not realities that refuse to be reconciled.