The day after seeing Josh, while sitting at home alone in my apartment, I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t more excited to see him, and he, to see me. It’s not that we don’t love or care for each other; on the contrary, I deeply care about every one of my brothers, and would gladly give my life for their safety and happiness.
In the same way, this inmate had a choice about how to respond to his present circumstances. And he chose to write me an unpleasant letter. From his perspective, I understand that I must seem like a villian. However, I did nothing other than report the facts (of course, that doesn’t make me feel any better).
I never had a choice; thrust into the cold light of a dawning earth thrown back into caveman days. No one cared about anyone but themselves. My first breath wasn’t freedom, that’s for damn sure; and when the inky blackness slid away from newborn eyes, all I saw was pain. I didn’t choose this.
So that we can transcend pain, strife, misery, depression, etc etc etc etc, and find peace and hope and fulfillment that lasts — not just while we’re on this earth, but forever.
That’s where my hope rests.
Lately, I’ve been feeling a little bit empty – and for a while I didn’t know why: I mean, I have everything and more than I could ever ask for.
And then it dawned on me: I’ve been feeling like David did when he penned “as a deer longs for streams of water, so my soul longs after You, God”; I’ve been longing for more of God and less of me – I’ve been trying to fill a spiritual void with material things that can never replace Him.
I write along with A. W. Tozer, who, in his book The Pursuit of God, wrote: “To have found God and still to pursue Him is the soul’s paradox of love, scorned indeed by the too-easily-satisfied religionist, but justified in happy experience by the children of the burning heart.”
There’s something about trees passing by the window, that makes me forget about yesterday, and live entirely in the moment. Something about the rumble of wheels over track, that lulls me into a dazed stupor of nostalgic thoughts. Or maybe it’s sleep that sweeps over me like a phantom.
Read about a whirlwind trip through Europe, by train.
“I struggle with balance. No, I don’t mean the keeping-myself-upright kind of balance (although I will be the first to admit that I can be a bit clumsy sometimes), I mean in a less literal sort of way – I mean trying to juggle spiritual life, school, relationships, actual work, family, freelance work, and fitness.”
Learning to balance responsibilities, relationships & fitness is difficult: humility is the key to a happy and a successful walk over the tightrope.