This past Sunday, we closed out another seven-day work week with triple digit hours. It reminded me to be thankful for a body and a brain that still work. The week reminded to be thankful for an outstanding family that supports our growing business and the time required to run it. And I was reminded to be very thankful for a generous customer base that continues to find reasons to push it in our direction.
But not every moment was a feel-good experience. Every at-bat was not a home run. We had our share of missed opportunities and mistakes. And as much as we tried to make it right there were still lessons to be learned. Processing and sometimes over analyzing what I could have done differently leaves me in a state of doubt. The day begins with a second of uneasiness and a constant glance over my shoulder as to how we left it enslaves me for the next several hours. When there is no plan B, the anxiety has a tendency to remind you that hitting a less than 1000 batting average is intolerable.
And just as I go to take one more peek in the rearview mirror, the Holy Spirit reminds me of what the cross was actually for. He reminds me that my inability to drive in the game winning run does not impact Who actually wins the game. His love is not based on how many trophies are in the cabinet and why He loves me abandons all logic. Whether daily bread comes through the door in droves or not at all, the heavens declare the grandeur of His glory through every remembrance of my barns overflowing with “the best of the land.” Praise Jesus for the cross. Praise Jesus for what He did, willingly, on the cross.
He protects me from trouble and surrounds me with songs of deliverance, obliterating any burden the yoke of slavery could ever fabricate.
