I delight in your deliverance

"If you are returning to the Lord with all your hearts, then rid yourselves of the foreign gods... and commit yourselves to the Lord and serve him only, and he will deliver you..." -1 Samuel 7:3

Each evening, when we lay our heads down and reflect on our day, our mistakes, our successes, may we return to the Lord. May we confess that yes, today, I have failed you. He's never surprised by that. Nor disgusted. His heart swells because we are dragging our feet into his bedroom, our heads hanging low, and telling him, I am guilty, and I am sorry.

We drag our feet because it is hard. Nobody likes to feel like a disappointment, especially not to the perfect Creator of the universe. But, the good news is that we are not disappointments, but made in his image. We are fallen, but with him, when we pursue him with all our hearts, with our whole hearts, we can rise.

So we commit to this relationship, a relationship of messy "I'm sorry's" and constant failings, but a relationship that shatters the earthly picture we have of love into a thousand pieces. When we choose to commit to this relationship, we deny committing ourselves to perfection, to what the world has to offer, we commit to falling in love with God instead of falling in love with the world. What a better alternative!

The cost of falling in love with the world is the peace of knowing that our identity is wrapped up in a perfect, holy God. It will cause us to become like the broken-hearted Hannah at the beginning of 1 Samuel, who wraps up her identity in her performance and actions. (Sort of like how we wrap up our identity in our appearance, our successes, our things). It isn't until Hannah falls on her knees and wholeheartedly commits herself to the Lord, saying "Oh Lord Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant's misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life" (1 Samuel 1:11).

She falls on her knees and claims that it is not of her capability that she could bear a son. It is not about her. And that is what we must realize when we embark on this beautiful relationship. That it is not of our capability to be worthy, but yet he calls us worthy. That it is not about me. It is not about you. It is and always has been solely about God. And we should delight in that!

After Hannah was blessed with Samuel, she prayed to the Lord and she exclaimed, "My heart rejoices in the Lord... for I delight in your deliverance" (1 Samuel 2:1).

I look at this picture, this picture of a woman wrapped up in trying to be successful, who simply wants to have a son. Something that she is supposed to be able to do, but cannot. I look at Samuel leading the Israelites against the Philistines, and how he beckons them to return to the Lord and lay aside their idols and foreign gods, and my heart is moved. I hear the call in my own life, I hear the Lord's sweet voice beckoning me to come back to him. Every morning, to come back to him and only him.

I so easily become entangled in the fairytale of this world, this idea of the future, perfecting the imaginings of a life to come- a life revolving around my own desires. And I realize that when I'm chasing after this ideal world, this fairytale the world has to offer, there will always be a hole in my heart, an ache in my soul, saying that there must be something more. No matter how pinterest-perfect my world is, no matter how thin, how fit I am, there will always be a desiring not filled in my heart because the Lord made us that way. He made us in his image; we are supposed to desire what he does! That is the only way we will ever be fully satisfied.

So, I picture myself as a young child approaching a patient Father, laying down my most treasured items at his feet (my successes, my idea of a perfect body, my idea of a perfect future- the things that I think will make me most happy) and reaching for his hand so that he can lead me in the direction of his guidance.

I want to delight in his deliverance, to chase after him with my whole heart, I want to fall so deeply in love with our perfect Father, because this world simply will not do. It leaves me aching, beaten down, defeated, just as the Israelites were when they praised their foreign gods, just as Hannah was when she realized her incapability. The true story of success is following God even when he guides us into defeat, through heartache, because we will eventually be led to triumph!

So, let's return to God with our messy past, with our heartache, our failures, and let's commit ourselves to him every day. Let's delight in his deliverance, in who he is. When we delight in him, our hearts change from desiring our will to desiring his will over our lives. And his will be done, not ours... every time.

"Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart." -Psalm 37:4

the all-encompassing time

Trying to wrap my head around the complexities of life right now, and all I can do is smile. Smile at the way that things fall together, the surprises life throws at you. It really doesn't make sense to me how the chaos of today builds the very structure of tomorrow.

With time, someone I used to talk to every day has become a distant stranger, the ache in my heart from a goodbye has dulled, and I have met people and cared for people I didn't ever imagine meeting. The thing is, that if it had been up to me, if I could have chosen upon first instinct, I probably wouldn't have chosen the way that it went. Without being able to see the beauty that would be created from the wreckage of heartache, the throb of depression, the struggle to find myself, I likely would have chosen to stay where I was. I would have settled by making that choice, without even realizing it. But, thankfully, time ushered me on.

And I suppose that's the beauty of time, that you cannot see into it, and the way it forces us further into the journey of life. Time is the distance between who you are and who you want to be; the distance between who you were and who you have become. Did you use it wisely?

Time can heal old wounds, it can allow your heart to mend. It allows you a new slate, one provided every 24 hours, fresh with possibility. Time can also hurt those hours that are neglected, those moments of silence that you can't ever take back. Because time is a mirror of the heart. The things we dedicate our time to hold value to us, whether that be our studies, our work, our friends, or our family. Ultimately, we all know that time is fleeting; and therefore, it shouldn't be wasted.

We know that, we're told that. But do we really recognize the weight that comes with those words? Do we actually realize that we are responsible for the way we spend our time?

For the longest time, I was haunted by the way that loved ones can become strangers in almost the blink of an eye. It is haunting, how someone who used to be the first person you told things to can become someone you haven't talked to in a year. But that's only part of the story. You see, what can also happen in the blink of an eye is that strangers can become loved ones. And I think we forget the potential in that.

Humans are creatures of habit. We find our group, our friends, and we hardly ever branch out from them. And that's okay, we can't be friends with everyone. But, the potential that strangers carry is the potential for being shaped, the potential to be influenced, to be inspired. I know that oftentimes, I lose sight of the fact that the person in line with me at Starbucks is a person, just like myself, with struggles of their own, very similar to mine. And maybe a few shared sentences doesn't seem like much, but the fun in it is that there's genuinely nothing to lose, but everything to gain.

You never know what could spark from a smile, from a hushed joke or a laugh with a stranger. At the very least, it could make their day. At the most, it could change your life.

I think about the way I met one of my very best friends and how we were in line as freshmen here at Clemson. I can still remember every detail of the conversation. It was so simple in nature, small talk about what we expected from our year. If you had told me that friend would be the friend who would change my view on so many things, who would challenge me and believe in me when I didn't have the strength to do so myself, I would have been taken aback. But she was. And it all started with a little small talk. I wonder every now and then if that would be the case if we had never exchanged glances, smiled, and said "hi".

My mind also wanders to this sweet boy I recently met. How just a little conversation has sparked something that has so much potential. Something that I want to believe in, that I hope for. I think about how both of these people and I have discussed, between laughs, how far we have come from those first moments.

I know that through the ebb and flow of life, the hellos we at one time giggle about can become the hellos we shed a tear over. Because sometimes, they come with goodbyes. Or "see ya laters." But is that any reason to avoid the joy of the hello? Sure, it sucks, that gut-wrenching ache you feel when you begin the journey of letting go, but would you really trade the whole experience just to avoid the pain?

The way I see it, things happen for us at certain times because they're what we needed at that moment. Whether it be a relationship, a goodbye, or time alone. These events mold us into the people that we are. They are the stepping stones that lead to who we want to be. The hellos give us hope. The goodbyes force us to be strong. The time alone is to help us grow. And time encompasses all of these things.

I suppose the main thing I was trying to say was that time is beautiful, and complex, and scary, and yet so wonderful. It's also fleeting, but it's in our hands. It ushers us along when we need the assistance, but for the most part, we choose how we spend our time. We can spend it avoiding hellos for fear of the goodbyes that may or may not follow, we can spend it running from a goodbye for fear of the necessary hellos that will follow, or we can cherish both and trust the beautiful journey and how it will mold us. Time is the distance between who we are and who we want to be. Are we using it wisely?

ours is the God

It's impossible to deny it, the lights all aglow, the Christmas lists dragging on and on... and in the hustle and bustle of getting everything done, if you listen carefully, there's a calm whisper all around you- in the lights of the tree, the glow of the fire, it is everywhere, but you must notice it, "All is grace." All is grace, and we can slow down this Christmas and we can see it all around us, the story of Christmas, stitched into every moment of every chapter.

For a while, I used to get this notion that it was possible to be "too dirty" for God, that after a certain point I was unbearable, I was too complicated, too much of a disappointment to take on. And after a semester of learning about a vast number of different religions in one of my classes, I am reminded, again, of the beauty of our God. You see, in all of humanity's religions, man reaches after God. But in all His relationships, God reaches for man. 

Ann Voskamp says it beautifully, "[God] reaches for you who have fallen and scraped your heart raw, for you who feel the shame of words that have snaked off your tongue and poisoned corners of your life, for you who keep trying to cover up pain with perfectionism" (The Greatest Gift). God reaches for us, through the densest thicket of failure, amidst the storm of self loathing. 

He calls out to us, "Where are you?" and we tremble in our shame and our guilt, just like Adam and Eve hid after biting into the apple that had tempted them. "Where are you?" he beckons, he reaches.

Sometimes, when we hear him calling, our shame becomes too much, and instead of falling into his arms, we attempt to run from his presence. (Run from his presence? As if that is even a possibility...) But still, we run, full-fledged into a sprint the opposite way, delving further and further into our sins. We tell ourselves we are much too far now. We cannot come back from this. And our hearts become calloused, and we ache. And we tune out the whispering that all is grace. And we forget grace altogether. 

But despite our running, the Lord, our loving Father grabs us, pulls us in, begs of us to let him love us, to love our wounds, our hurt, our shame. He washes us of our shame and our guilt every day. And while he cradles us in his arms, he reminds us that he has made us new, hallelujah, and that our past will never scare him out of loving us.

"Where is he?" The wise men asked, the first question of the New Testament. And we hardly ever wondered why they were called wise men... "Where is he?" They came searching.

"We only find out where we are when we find out where He is. We only find ourselves... when we find Him."

The wise seek the presence of Christ in a thousand places, because they know that you only come to yourself when you come to Him. So when we run, when we sprint away from the question of where we are, when we sprint in the attempt to escape our shame in the presence of God, we are being the farthest thing from wise.

Why would we run from a God who skipped telling us the steps to take to him and took the step down to us? Why would we run from the God who carries us, the ones who are bone weary of all the trying and the striving? Because we forget grace. We forget to listen for the whisper.

"He comes to us not in spite of our failings- but precisely because of them. Ours is the God who is drawn to those who feel down. Ours is the God who is attracted to those who feel abandoned. Ours is the God who is bound to those who feel broken."

This is grace. This is reason to slow. This is not to be missed. If we simply linger in the doorway, stare at the tree, watch the glow of the fire, it's strange, but you can see it. That Jesus came down, he is our ladder, he is love. Grace is what carries us all the way home, but we must see it. We must hear it in the midst of our failures, in the midst of our trying and our hiding. We cannot hide from this grace, it is much too miraculous, it is much too loving. He seeks us out, he calls out to us "where are you?" and he wraps us in the clothes of his grace. He covers our nakedness with his grace, he covers our shame with his grace. We must not miss this!

There are ten days until Christmas. Ten days until our Savior is born. Can you feel it, the coming? We should slow, we should praise. We should wake, and our hearts should pour out, and we should ask, "where is he?" We should find him on our knees, we should delve further into his grace, snuggle up into his arms, and we should wait. Wait for the coming, for the wonder, that while God looks at us in our lowest, he loves us all the way up to the sky. He sent his son. Ours is the God who is grace, who is love, who cannot be avoided, who should not be missed.

running with peace

Our heavenly Father came that we may have life and have it to the full. How often do we settle for so much less? We compromise living in his peace so that we can fill our schedules with endless to-do lists and carry the stresses of our day to day tasks on our own shoulders, complaining to our friends, "I'm just so weighed down and stressed... I never stop!"

Oh that's so me. This week is my last week home before going back to Clemson for my Junior year, and let me tell you... I have my hands full. Between sanding and painting furniture and planning my dream room for my apartment, I have also been nannying and squeezing in those last minute appointments so everything is in order when I get back for the fall semester. This morning, I had scheduled a hair appointment- a not so dire need, but more of a reward, something to treat myself. Needless to say, I had been looking forward to it all week. It was going to make me feel pretty and excited to be heading back to school (girls, I know you understand what I'm saying here). Well, I get a phone call this morning at 9:15, telling me my appointment was at 9:00, even though I am adamant that they had told me 9:30, and that I would have to settle for an appointment tomorrow with someone else or just not have one at all. I was furious. I was cold and short with the poor receptionist on the other end of the line, saying I lived an exact 2 minutes away and could be there right then- but no; that wasn't possible, the hair stylist would then be behind for all of her other appointments. And I'm thinking, "so WHAT?" My morning wasn't going how I planned. I hung up with her so angry, I tossed my fork from breakfast into the sink and slammed a couple drawers. How would I survive?! The one thing I was looking forward to today was not happening anymore and so my whole day was now going to be ruined.

Well thanks to the lack of hair appointment, I had some extra time to kill before heading off to nanny. So I spent some time reading from a book for my bible study and, ironically, (it's never coincidence with the Lord) the chapter was on laying aside anxiety and running with peace.

Halfway through the chapter, I was humbled with the realization that the Lord wanted me to miss my hair appointment so that I would, like the selfish person I am, come to Him all whiney, expecting some consolation. He was actually demanding time from me because I hadn't set it aside myself. Because I was so stressed and had too much to do! (How we ever have so much to do that we can't spend a few waking moments with our Savior who created us and redeemed us from sin, I have yet to understand)

I began to realize how selfish and silly it was for me to be so upset about something so minuscule not going my way. The Lord literally had to slap me across the face with what He was trying to teach me. (Sometimes, I like to think the Lord would literally slap me across the face had he been standing there in the flesh) I was being prideful and stubborn in the way I was carrying myself, claiming to be stressed and a little anxious about this coming semester, but not bringing these worries to Him because I could do it on my own. Well maybe I could, but look at how that was going for me... me almost to the point of tears because a hair appointment was missed... the Lord did not want me to live this way!

The words of the chapter were clear on that. Jerry Bridges states,

"Because God cares for you, you can cast your anxiety on Him. Do not get these thoughts reversed. The text does not say, 'If you cast your anxieties on Him, He will care for you.' His care is not conditioned on our faith and our ability to cast our anxiety on Him; rather, it is because He does care for us that we can cast our anxiety on Him."

God cares for me so unbelievably much that He desires for me to cast my anxiety on Him because he cares for me and does not want me to live a stressed and restless life! He desires for me to experience His peace and the joy that comes with casting my stresses on Him- but in order to do that, I have to set aside time with Him... which I hadn't been doing. Perhaps it was partly because I was prideful and didn't want the Lord's help because I felt capable on my own, and partly because I felt burdensome and didn't want to ask for His peace over such silly worries and troubles.

But Charles Spurgeon writes,

"When I am tossed to and fro with various reasonings, distractions, questionings, and forebodings, I will fly to my true rest. From my sinful thoughts, my vain thoughts, my sorrowful thoughts, my griefs, my cares, my conflicts, I will hasten to the Lord; he has divine comforts, and these will not only console but actually delight me. How sweet are the comforts of the Spirit! Who can muse upon eternal love, immutable purposes, covenant promises, finished redemption, the risen Saviour, his union with his people, the coming glory, and such like themes without feeling his heart leaping with joy? The little world within us, like the great world without, is full of confusion and strife; but when Jesus enters it, and whispers, "Peace be unto you," there is a calm, yea, a rapture of bliss."

I think that only the comfort of the Lord has the ability to actually delight us, bring us such joy that we can experience a rapture of bliss... that is why He clearly begs us, continually reminds us, "be anxious about nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, present your requests to God." It is when we dedicate our time to Him, come to Him humbled and looking for rest, literally make a gap in our schedule, sacrifice whatever it takes, whether it be a hair appointment or coffee with a friend, that we can experience this peace that He offers to us, the peace that "transcends all understanding" that "will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:4-7)

I am so thankful for this lesson today. Humbled. The Lord had to take something away from me that I was looking forward to, but He knew that this is what I needed instead. And since I wouldn't make time for Him myself, He forced me to have time for Him. Now I understand it shouldn't be that way. Why live stressed, on edge, when I can delight in the peace of the Lord and come to Him for rest and true joy? Stop settling for a not-so-full life. The Lord desires for us to experience joy and freedom from our anxieties if we only choose to make time for Him.

focus

I ask of myself, if the Lord were to ask me these things, how would I respond, truly?

"Does what I think matter to you? If I am pleased with you is that enough? If I want you to speak and no one responds, will you speak for just Me?"

Oh Lord, make it enough. Make it enough when you are pleased with me and no one else seems to be. Lord allow me to speak only for you- when no one else responds, encourages, can you make my heart open and soft enough to be content with your declarations of how you cherish me? Can you put away my selfish desire to be admired and change my focus to that of Paul- that your power and glory shining through me are what should be admirable? Help me to not waste my life dancing around for the love and applause of men, which leads to my destruction, but to dance for you; to live and run this race for you, which leads to my joy and ultimately, my purpose. You are better than what I have been focusing on. Will you fix my heart on drawing near to you and desiring to please only you?

"Am I now trying to win the approval of man, or of God? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ." Galatians 1:10

Icy waters

I guess I'm angry because I was so vulnerable. I shared my heart and the deepest, not so pretty parts of me, only to never be let in. And that's why it should be so easy to walk away: because you never let me all the way in. You were always hiding a part of yourself from me, but I ignored it, and kept sharing pieces of me hoping you'd eventually exchange some of you in return.

Well that never happened. And so here I am, looking back on it all now thinking how stupid I was, how thoughtless it was for me to be so real and so vulnerable with someone who was never even sure of what he wanted. A part of me wants to regret that I did, but then another part knows that everything has happened the way that it was supposed to-- something I have to force myself to trust. But some days I wake up, and that faith doesn't make it any easier. You told me to be strong, though, and so strong I will be. Strong in the knowledge that to be honest, you and I both have some growing up to do.

Someone once described the sensation of being thrown into icy water as "hitting you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body." Upon those first moments in the water, you can't breathe, you can't think about anything except for the pain. Many people have compared a breaking heart to the sensation of being thrown into icy water. Ironically enough, I have recently experienced both, and I can agree. But the thing about being thrown into icy water is, that while it hurts at first in shocking, breath-taking pain, eventually it numbs you and the pain disappears almost as quickly as it came. A part of me excused certain actions of yours that hurt me, but when it comes down to it, I excused you all too often. I was blinded by the amazing person that you are, underneath it all, the amazing person that you can choose to be. But some of the time, you didn't choose to be that person... and I needed you to. But the person that this experience has shaped me into isn't even sad about the change, just about how it all went. I'm not one to hold grudges or ever be bitter; I'm a firm believer in the fact that everything happens for a reason.

I know that without you, I wouldn't be the woman that I am today. So, I do have a lot to thank you for. But I also have to thank you for making me realize my worth and that fighting against the urge to settle is a fight I deserve to persevere through. You deserve to grow into the incredible young man that you have the potential to be, and that isn't possible with me in your life. I don't know why, but I think both of us know very well that we are in different places in our lives, both mentally and physically. I have been told to never regret anything that once made you happy. I don't regret you. I never will be capable of convincing myself of that. Instead, I am thankful and optimistic about what the future holds for each of us. Who knows where the future will lead us?

I hope that you know how privileged you are to have been let into my heart so intimately, so selflessly, and that I wouldn't change knowing you. I hope you choose to grow into the wonderfully devoted, loyal, and selfless man that I knew for a time; and that you choose to be the best version of yourself everyday. Live in today and never yesterday. I hope that you don't beat yourself up too much when you realize how little you gave; allow it to change you. Lord knows we both need to.

And when you're thrown out into the real world, and the thousands of knives stab all over your body in fear and pain; when the real world and it's demands steal your breath and make it impossible to think just like when that icy water hit me, I hope you think of how I got up, got out, and handled it with grace and dignity. I hope you remember that you're the one that threw me into the water in the first place, the one that gave this up. I ask you to be strong for me then like I have been strong for you now.

In loving memory

Her quivering hand gripped his in a sea of black sniffles. His palms were sweaty and his chest quickly rose and fell as his tearful sighs echoed throughout the church. All of the stages of grief were represented in this room smothered with sorrow over the loss of their son.

Over a life that had so much potential, so much more life left to live, that had been cut so incredibly short, so unfairly short. And now a room of loved ones, friends, and admirers mourned it's ending; mourned his absence along with all of the plans made that would never happen, all of the hopes and dreams that could never be fulfilled, and all of the experiences that he would never be able to have. Some sobbed because of how suddenly his life had come to a halt. Some sat angrily and stiff, because, "why him?" A question they would never have an answer to, yet they continue to ask it, to muddle over it, to lose sleep about it.

And in the midst of such incredible pain and tragedy and the loss of such a young life, I think the only answer we can choose to formulate is that because it was him, we can take the memories, the pain, the sorrow we feel in our hearts and we can choose to live better, to love more, to laugh harder and to help others. We can honor him with the lives we are so blessed to continue to live today. 

I did not have the privilege of knowing Michael deeply or even intimately in friendship, but I do have the privilege of knowing so many who knew him, so many who now mourn his loss. I have seen his brothers sit outside of the Shack with candles and flowers under his picture. I have seen them living out their pain, and I hurt for them. It has been a shaking event and Clemson has had an overtone of grief this week. I think that, whether we knew Michael or not, the loss of this young man that was in a very similar place of life as each of us can impact us in ways that will improve our character, our values, our lives, and our futures. We may never know why it had to be Michael, why he had to be ripped from our lives so early and so abruptly, but the wounds that his death have left upon us can be tended to and healed into tougher skin, proving to make us stronger in the end. 

It's hard to wrap our feeble minds around such a tragic loss, and sometimes it's incredibly hard to see the good in these events throughout the course of life, but what I do know is that we can take this loss and we can utilize it to better ourselves so that we can, hopefully, leave someone a little better when it's our turn to go. And then we can join Michael and thank him for being the best version of himself that he could be.

You are dearly missed.

"Come with me to the mountains"

"Will you come with me to the mountains? It will hurt at first, until your feet are hardened. Reality is harsh to the feet of shadows. But will you come?"

     -C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

Frustration, confusion. You have come to a fork in the road and you're considering which path it is you should choose to take.  The path to the right is most definitely scaling up the mountain, there is no doubt. It is jagged and rocky, steep and by no means appealing. To the left; on the contrary, is a path that appears to be scaling up the mountain, a much less treacherous and steep hike; it looks almost enjoyable, by no means rocky or dangerous. You hardly falter in your decision, as you grab your things and pace towards the left. But, almost out of nowhere, a lean young man calls after you, from the path to the right. His smile is genuine, inviting. "Will you come with me to the mountains?" He asks gently.

You are so perplexed by this stranger who seems to be so interested in your company, "I am going to the mountains, but I am going by this path, it seems much more pleasurable."

Your words paint a small frown across his face, "I assure you, that path may be more enjoyable along the way, but the view of this one, the destination is far more rewarding. Sure, it is jagged and rocky and steep; it will hurt at first, but eventually your feet will become hardened. That path is deceitful, it appears to bring you up to the top of the mountains, but it really only brings you further away."

His words confuse you even more, "Have you walked the jagged path before?"

The stranger nods his head gently, "Many times. Will you come?"

"Have you walked the other path before?" You fold your arms across your chest.

Slowly, he shakes his head, "I have invited many of my brothers and sisters to walk with me along this path instead, but many have chosen to take that one. I have never seen them at the top."

"Do you know where it leads to, if not the top?"

Remorse covers the strangers face, "Continually, they walk along the path, unwounded, yet so bounded in suffering. My path is always accessible along their way, but they hope in their path, they convince themselves that eventually they will reach the top, and then it will be worth it; surely my path must end in death. But it is quite the contrary, and they realize this all too late."

Anger fills your veins, "If you know this path ends in death, why don't you save them rather than just inviting them and watching them waltz into their death?!"

He is patient, "I have saved them, I have given them the option to take this path. I came and I made a way to the top of the mountain. Before, they could only take the other path."

You soak in his words, trying to understand, "I can't fully understand," you grumble.

He grins easily, "And you won't. You just have to believe that what I say is true. Will you come with me to the mountains?"

You sigh and look back at the easy path, "I think I would rather enjoy my walk to my ruin than hike up an exhausting and dangerous path to a better destination. I mean, I will most definitely fall and be injured on your path."

He nods, "No doubt, you will fall. Many times along my path, you will fall. But I will be with you each time that you do, and before you know it, your feet will harden and you will become stronger. You will have to persevere, but then you will find yourself in paradise."

Slowly, you stutter, "Well I will be lonely on the other path..."

"Will you come?" He holds out his hand.

You falter, wondering who this man really is; a stranger who could easily be deceiving you. But you walk towards him, leaving behind your things and you embark on the jagged path. At first, the path is not too bad, you excitedly walk beside your new friend, wanting to know all about him, how to be like him. But soon, the jagged rocks pierce your feet and you want to turn back. Through your tears, you cling to his hand and he guides you. He takes you to a nearby pool of water, he washes your wounded feet and your scabbed hands from your many falls. Your salty tears run down your face and he looks at you consolingly, "I have been wounded, too. To make this path, I was wounded for you." He holds out his hands for you to see.

You place your fingers in his scars and you wince for him, "I didn't deserve for you to do that. I doubt you, still, all too often. I think you have lied to me and I have wanted to turn back."

He shakes his head, "And you again will doubt. But no matter how many times you do, I have made a way and I delight in leading you to the mountaintops, in your company."

Your heart swells up in his kindness, in his love. You promise yourself you will persevere harder, for him, you will endure the rocky path. But the next time you trip, the blood pours from your knee and you cry in anger to him, "If you love me so much, why do you watch me suffer?"

He cries with you, "Reality is harsh to the feet of shadows, but still, will you come with me?"

You walk away from the path to a pool of water, in disgust, you wash your wound yourself, but it swells and it burns, "I will walk alone."And for a few days and nights, you do. But you trip, you stumble. He tries to near you, but stubbornly you tell him you don't need his help. It is not long before you realize that without him, the path is not as fulfilling; that you hurt more, and your mere attempts to clean out your wounds are in vain. You curl up on the ground and you bring yourself low, "I was wrong, so terribly wrong. This hike is nothing if you are not with me."

He wraps you up, he pieces your cuts together, he holds you in his arms, "I was always with you. I never left."

Through tears, you correct yourself, "This hike is nothing if it is not for you. In return. For your love. I don't deserve you."

"And yet you always have me," he smiles at you.

You sit up, strengthened by him being with you, "Will you come to the mountains with me? My feet are still sore, but they will become hardened. I walk in the shadows still, but will you come?"