Weeks ago, I dropped my vehicle off for an oil change and began walking the mile home. I’d rarely been on some of those side streets, so I was poised for a clunky zig-zag to my house. I began following a sidewalk in the general direction of my neighborhood when the sidewalk abruptly ended. Though it started up on the other side of the street, I wondered if there would be a point where I wouldn’t know where to go next. What then?

No one that’s lived long enough can claim they’ve never felt this way in life. Maybe it’s a death, a weighty diagnosis, a broken friendship, a season of failure, or a decision tree with blanks instead of branches. Surely, nobody can live a connected life long enough and say they’ve never wondered if it’s going to be okay if such and such doesn’t turn out.  If the very thing I fear comes to fruition, what then?

And many of you have lived enough life to get on the other side of that uncertainty and see that maybe it wasn’t okay—it’s still not okay. But you’ve got enough road under your tires to see that there are signs of healing today. Not Restoration. (Restoration, capitalized, because it deserves a sacred emphasis that Jesus Christ will someday set all things right.) But: healing for now before Restoration forever. The scar will eventually be completely gone. Today, however, it’s a mark, not a wound.

One of the most beautifully painful things you can do when the wound has closed is to return to the scar and remember. Now, most of us have little stomach or patience for this. Why on earth would we waste time dwelling on those dark days? How does that benefit anybody? Quite frankly, it seems wasteful. It seems unproductive. It seems needy. Move on already! But I’ve seen how quick I am to dust off and move on. And with that, I’ve also dusted off memory of old graces still sufficient.

Despite having my eyes opened to my desperation for Jesus years ago, I see how quick the muscle memory of selfishness is back and ready to flex. I even found myself think-praying about spiritual regression when life becomes comfy and cozy again.  (Do you do this, too? Where you can’t remember if you thought it or prayed it?  Well, Jesus hears.)

Soon enough, I was back in the saddle of some life discomfort. No wonder our love for Jesus seems to grow best underground. It can certainly bloom in light and happy places. But there is this intense—thirst, disenchantment, disruption—that brings us to the end of ourselves that can’t be replicated in utopian moments. Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. John 12:24 (ESV).

Friends, Christ will soon crush the enemy under his feet. And our flesh will be completely conformed to Christ. But today—when the wound is closed—but Restoration hasn’t come—let the Shepherd lead you back to old places to combat the lies of today. Go back to hard days and long nights of seasons past. Go back to the places that you never want to see again. Go back to times that are no more. And see what God has done since!

Did you ever think you’d be on the other side of it and still flourishing? Did you ever think the sharp places would soften? Did you think God would do all the work only He could do? Would you look at how needs have been met? Would you look at how lives have been changed? Would you acknowledge how different you are because of Jesus? Look at His fruit in you—the compassion and grace that swallowed up pride. The Shepherd leading you to repentance. Only by the Spirit is this possible in us!  Do you see it? Good. Celebrate God for it.  And trust God to do it again. Immeasurably more than you ask or think—He is able. Oh, is He able! God is so able that we can’t even think to ask what He is able to do. Beyond!

You’re ruining today wondering what you’re going to do when the sidewalk ends. What then? Then Hope. Then the grace that kept you years ago, still perfectly fitted for today. Then the God who is right in all He does and kind in all His works.  What then? Then the One whose arm is not too short to save. Then the One who took your sin and shame will surely supply all your needs. Then what can man do to you; God will never leave you nor forsake you. What then? Then God will turn all things for His glory, our good. Then God’s love endures forever. Then neither height nor depth can separate us from it. What then? Then Christ.

Lord, You are more than able. Please redeem our short memories and our imaginations. And Lord, thank You.

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I’ve been rereading a challenging book I read two years ago. The good news is the older I get, the less I can remember what I read. So my second read is basically a first read. 🙂

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It’s finally feeling like Fall here in Kansas, and I’ve been busy watching grass grow. As a kid, I never appreciated my dad’s repeated pleas to stay off newly seeded areas until I had my own yard and four rascals intent on sabotaging it. Do my children think that I, two to three times a day, lug a long hose across our yard and hand water unreached spots—just for sheer enjoyment? Does it look like I’m smiling when my ornery dog hops the makeshift barrier to romp in the mud? I just never knew my day could turn on the wellbeing of fragile green blades. I sure hope your days are as rich and fulfilling as mine……….

Thanks for sticking with me,

Paige