It’s been months since I’ve blogged publicly. It’s been even longer since I’ve written something meaningful.
But fresh off the stink of another failed launch, I am met with the haunting reality that this might be one of the few outlets left. Like Peter who returned to his boat after betraying Christ, I am returning to one of the few things I have left.
This year hasn’t gone exactly as I had planned; the job became more stressful and the joy was waning. I had my last day in July. Ironically, when they let me go, I felt new again–as though my legs that were previously cut from under me were unceremoniously reattached. But I also knew I’d soon be walking through my desert.
There is a feeling in me that I’m finally going somewhere–the place where God wants–after 2 years of running. But it is hard to tell when the road you’re currently walking seems so dark and bumpy. Very many unknowns, very real uncertainties. It is enough for some people to quit, to die. To lie down underneath a tree and quietly fade away.
The thirst is real. It is strong and as palpable as the heart that beats wildly inside of my chest. And in my greatest despair I doubt if I can make it before the river.
“But in these thoughts, myself almost despising”–I hear the whisper of life:
You will not die in the desert.
Words spoken at a prayer seminar weeks ago that only now serve to remind me that there isn’t much longer. The journey’s hard, and the thirst is real, but I will get through this. I have someone guiding me through. And the water my lips will kiss on that day will be glorious.
It is lonely now. I am left with very little, but I suppose I’m left with all that I need. As long as God can fill my pockets full of hope and draw near to me in my weakest days, I will make it out. I will not die in the desert.
And I will cross the Jordan on that appointed day.