He Only Authors Redemption

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

She was supposed to stick and grow ears, a heart, and fingernails.

He was supposed to kick from the inside and you were supposed to hold him full of life and crying on the outside. 

Yet here you are, burying dreams and hearts you never expected but what I’ve found about the soil of suffering is that when we water it with honesty while death-gripping our grasp onto hope, it completely alters everything about who we are but more importantly, who God is to us and in us… I’m convinced there is no other fruit in all of our lives that defines us more than what grows within the garden of sorrow. Giving Him our questions, emotions, and disappointments are all normal parts of maintaining our garden… yet hope, hope is the irreplaceable fertilizer to a hurting heart walking through loss. Hope is Heaven’s way of saying “I am still writing this story” and there is something so comforting about knowing He only authors redemption. I get it, his vantage point of redemption and ours don’t always line up. But that right there I think is what makes the cross so remarkable… Reality and truth intersect, joy and suffering cross over, death and life are layered as two lines that run through one another, resulting in a revelation that because Jesus died and rose to life again, hope gets to exist on the other side of death. He made a way to always have hope...

I’m learning different shades of suffering reveal different shades of hope, each shade uniquely revealing his heart for me.