Last night, a beautifully seasoned mother shared with a roomful of eager listeners — young moms who are seeking to know how, or just simply see with our own eyes that it is possible. I’m only 31, and already, I am ready to give a standing ovation to anyone who is simply running with endurance. Before this woman opened her mouth to speak, I was already struck by how many days she has woken up and chosen Jesus — and I know, because life is life, that a good share of those mornings weren’t sunshine and rainbows. Isn’t it amazing? Don’t you marvel? Don’t you realize, more and more, that just standing is a marvelous testimony of grace? And deserving of the highest medals and honors? Because it’s work. It’s putting hands to plows, applying hearts to promises not seen, feeble knees refusing to bend, deciding to praise when the whole world seems to be caving in. It is the substance and evidence — the visible, tangible, undeniable proof — of things unseen. It is beautiful.
And so I ponder. Today I think about the wonderful work I am called to: the work of worshiping, of believing, of thanking, of confessing, of meditating, of trusting and obeying. And in turn, the work He does in a heart that is purposing to be His: the work of refining, of transforming, of sanctifying, and setting free.
I want to give myself to that work with fresh passion. I want to give my life to Jesus.