I remember as a kid I used to dream of making a difference
in people’s lives. I wanted to go on big adventures and heal wounds and preach
truth and love hard.
As I got older that desire only grew more and more as I
would read the stories of our missionary forefathers. I craved that same
resolve that they had to stand in front of the trials with that unshakable
faith and face the enemy with boldness. I was one daydream away from skipping
through fields of daisies with my Bible in hand and a whole slew of new converts
hot on my heals.
Precious.
The hard looked so much easier back then when I could close
the pages and roll over in my nice warm bed, clinging to the triumphant ending
and dismissing the trials that led up to it.