This picture was taken on a trail in Ecuador, during month one of the race.
I’m on a different sort of trail right now.
These hard days are making me realize that prayer is the only thing that I want to come out of me: as tears, as words, as breaths.
I’ve been feeling it in my bones that the gospel is excruciatingly painful and extravagantly good.
I’m searching for how to cling to authentic joy in a place of real suffering.
I’m refusing to settle for cheap answers and spoon-fed philosophy or spiritual talk.
I’m experiencing that bold love and vulnerability often make you bleed.
I’m not afraid of where I’m at, I’m neither clueless nor hopeless.
I think of the words my friend Jacob said the other day,
‘I know the Lord has spoken to me after I’ve spent time in the Word if I walk away with more questions than answers.’
More questions than answers.
The Lord is speaking to me.
I’m living my life as a disciple, committed to following the One who taught me that love is laying down your life.
