Coming off of a week of fantastic family time, it feels like I hit low gear coming home. Things have been so difficult since coming back to this place I still think I love.
Pastoring is such a different life than that of missionary. There are different irritations, different dry spots, different perseverences. Lately it feels like we have dropped a plow into the desert and are trying so hard to get the field growing. Our muscles strain, our feet dig in but we are still cultivating a place that resists growth. Nothing comes easily. The rocks seem unending and I am getting tired of keeping the plow straight.
Today I was having a time of worship and the Lord brought this song to me:
I lift my hands in sweet surrender
Your holy presence covers me
Yours is the voice, there is no other
You speak the word that sets me free
Healing word, You speak the healing word
The healing word sets me free
Healing word, you speak the healing word
The healing word I receive
