splintered timber

i feel like i've been on my knees for 10 days straight. even at night when i should be sleeping, my body wakes me... i crawl out of bed if it is not too cold, or i stare at the ceiling from within these covers and i whisper prayers. as the world sleeps and the heater drones, i cry out to a God who knows me... to a God who is the only true thing i know.

this past month has been just as tumultuous as it has been exciting... and because i have never known anything in the world to go backwards from the present, i feel my heart beginning to brace itself for the months ahead. when i tally the sacrifices already made against the things that still remain in my hand... my hope evaporates. these are depths that i cannot swim, these are heights i cannot climb - this is a brokenness even the strong have not survived!

yet do i forget so easily that the crosses we bear are never made of smooth oiled wood... but rather splintered timbers crudely fastened together? do the characteristics of this specific cross make it such that i cannot and will not pick it up and carry it, as i have carried all those before it? the decision is just as easy and just as difficult as it has ever been - nothing has changed except my attachment to this world, the things and people within it. here it is, so straight and so defined: either i pick up the cross and follow Him... or i don't.