Into the fray that heals

I am working on viewing my world, my life, more like a hospital than a resort. Now I can't say that I have ever been on a resort vacation (or even a cruise for that matter) but I understand that they are very nice. Very nice indeed. So nice in fact that if something is out of place it gets taken care of. And once it does one can go back to resorting (is that a verb?). I have a tendency to treat life that way. If something is out of place I have a tendency to want it to be taken care of so I can go back to life. I want it removed so that I can live my life the way I think it ought to be lived: from my magic barcalounger of remote control. There my travelogue can be completed on screen while being fully liked and profusely commented. Look at my photo album of my stay under the stars - they were happy to see me and I was loved there!

But something is desperately wrong with me. Something so dark and sinister that I dare not leave the gurney that He has lifted me onto. I can barely walk if I skip my prescribed dose of this or that as the ways outside of this white, hard-floored box of this world, this life, would sweep me straight into Hell without me even knowing what had happened.

No, my world is not a vacation. I am being fitted for much more than that. This fray that I have entered through being born again into His family is, bit by bit, healing me. It is making me whole all the way down as His Word and His love is make me wholly different than who I am. My happiness is secondary to my holiness and I have pangs of the tiniest foretaste of what it feels like to be where He is, ultimately, taking me. Those drops are enough, at times, to stand against the full-throated drink that this world offers.

Yes, I am being healed. But the medicine burns, God. It burns so badly before it brings relief to my aching limbs.


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