I’d reluctantly joined a small Bible study on the book of James. On the heels of some difficult years both personally and financially, I was ready for an encouraging study. Though his suggestion offended me God insisted and I signed up. With a cinched heart and tears tucked away, I joined the other women around the table.
James. Mr. Count-It-All-Joy. I thought I could tell that guy a thing or two about struggle, about trial. Sleepless nights, endless tears, desperate loneliness and flailing arms clamoring for heaven as my own life threatened to drown me. I knew the reason I’d survived to this point was because of God’s mercy and grace. I’d believed every word he’d whispered into my soul. If the story of my life didn’t qualify as facing “trouble of any kind,” of faith being tested, endurance being developed, and growing, I didn’t want to know what was next. I resented that he’d asked me to join these women for 12 weeks in a local coffee shop. I was angry…..
I’m in the mountains of Eastern Pennsylvania this weekend for a retreat but you can find rest of the story over on the Grace Church Blog today. Connect with me there?
Have a good weekend friends!