Sometimes, the most painful thing I know to do is simply to keep going. I’ve found that on certain stretches of the road, little spears come at me from all directions, trying to poison me to keep me from the journey ahead. I have no defense but to keep pressing forward, hoping that the next bend will be better.
No one really understands this, but this gift given me, so assaulted, is teaching me to fly. Every plane launching into the air faces a stiff headwind if it wants a sure takeoff. The spears and the barbs and the verbal pressures force me not to crash, but to soar into the air. What I’m learning is that without resistance – in my soul, in my spirit, on the job, relational, at heart – I’ll never fly higher than the dismal fog.
If I can embrace the resistance, and adapt to it, I just might gain a perspective of the world that inspires others to keep going, too.
A Brave New Heaven 