Sometimes in my morning devotions, as I jot down notes or intercessions in my journal, I’m caught by the sight of the aging hand holding the pen & tears fill my eyes. I started this practice at 18. The Lord has carried me so long. Younger servant, God will be so faithful to you.

Live it out with Him. The whole thing. The beautiful & the disastrous. The worst decisions I’d make were after 18, of course, but, because it was the way I met with God to start each day, I just kept on. And He never forsook me. Always walked me to repentance. Always restored me.

Jesus has only gotten dearer to me. That’s the thing I want to say to you. He will only get dearer to you. You fear you will lose interest in the gospel. In the Bible. You don’t know how on earth you’ll keep your fervor for the rest of your life. But, you see, that’s the miracle.

You can’t do it. Jesus does it. You just keep telling Him you’re willing. You just keep asking Him to make Himself the love of your life & to animate the Scriptures with the self-same Spirit who wrote it. And you’ll realize a few days later, the numbness subsided & all is color.

You’ll be sure you won’t survive that news, crisis, loss, betrayal, rejection, disappointment and a few years down the road you stop in your tracks and the realization washes over you that you made it. That you’re making it. And you know why. Oh, you know. You know it was Jesus.

I’m only surer about the gospel these days. Only surer about the veracity of Scripture. Only surer that there is no life more meaningful in the human experience than the life of faith. And I am surer of this than I am of my own flesh & blood & breath:
There is no one like Jesus.