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I stand in its shadow. It would be dim here except for the glory of His light.

He spoke to me years ago and I came stumbling in, gagging over my sin, sobbing for His peace, reaching for His love. I threw the whole sorry mess of my life at His feet. I begged him to redeem it. He did. I was eighteen and, suddenly, I could breathe.

I sucked it in; deep gulps of peace, transforming joy and love.

Upright for the first time, I began to walk…

It was hard, this walking in the narrow way; choosing right and turning away from whatever felt fine at the time.

It was hard, the whispers and scoffing and outright guffawing of those who didn’t understand, whose eyes were blind. It hurt because I loved them, those friends of mine. My family. But I had to keep following the Man from Galilee.

Now, these many years later, I watch in awe as God works in those same loved ones. How long have I waited to see His redemption. How sporadically I have prayed, not believing He was working; calling, calling, calling.

He brings me to my knees for my children; those of the next generation who must see their need for Him. He opens their blind eyes and I stand in awe. Oh, how I long to see my children and the generation yet unborn praising Him with me for all eternity.

The hard times come, the doubts and fears and I stumble again. I doubt. I struggle to stay awake long enough to pray. I yawn with complacency.

Then… I look up and it is there. That cross…stark…stained with His blood.

Turning, I see that looming cave; the empty tomb. My despair is transformed, again, by the simple truth of the resurrection.

“He is not here, He is risen!!”
I remember what He has done and… I walk again.