An Open Letter to the One Considering Giving Up

To the one who is considering giving up, 

Maybe you’re wondering where God was when you needed Him most. When no one else understood and when the pain was too much, God was supposed to be there. He was supposed to fix it. Isn’t that what He does? Make it better? 

I know you’re tired. I know you feel stuck and that you’d do anything to feel unstuck — even going as far as to do something you know you’d regret. At the end of the day, don’t you just want to remember what this life is for? 

Maybe you don’t talk to God anymore, at least, not like you used to. It’s not that you’re being dishonest with Him. You know He knows. It’s just not up for discussion, since you decided you already know what He’d say. He would be disappointed, right? He would say, “You knew better”…right? 

Maybe that’s what you tell yourself and now you feel like you have all the reasons you need to hold Him at arms length. 

But you can’t keep Him at a safe distance forever. 

You can do your best to put it off; to deny His existence and live in a kind of willful deception, but there will be a day when you can no longer hide (I know, because I couldn’t hide either).

What will it be?

Will it be the realization that you were and still are deeply loved? 

Will you suddenly have to admit to yourself that you refused God’s love -– the same love that He wanted to lavish upon you, but you didn’t trust Him enough to give you what you needed most? 

Will it be a humble plea? “I can’t do this anymore.”

Will you yield to the breaking and the mending?

He will meet you. 

Maybe not in the way that you prefer and maybe not in the way that you expect, but at the point when you feel like there’s none of yourself left, He comes in with grace and fills every part.

Here I am pleading, “Don’t give up hope.”

But please, give up. Stop fighting God. Maybe after giving it some thought you realize you’re actually trying to punish yourself. You know you don’t deserve His love, so you’ve decided you’re not going to receive it.

But refusing Him doesn’t make Him sacrificing the life of His Son for your life untrue. Blaming Him for the failures of others and the pain of this fallen world doesn’t mean that the blood of Jesus wasn’t shed on your behalf. 

I want you to know one thing: He was there when you needed Him most. 

Your idea of when you needed Him and His omniscient understanding of when you needed Him are two different things. He was there when you were dead in your sins, even when you could do nothing for yourself and had NO HOPE. 

God came for broken people. He came for people who don’t know how to love or how to forgive. He came for people who are ungrateful and selfish. He came for us. We could never earn His love, so when all is said and done mercy, grace and beauty flow from the cracks of our broken lives. 

You see, this isn’t just about you. You’re not the only victim of your refusal. Your life relinquished to His care testifies to others of His immense mercy and the unsearchable riches of His multi-faceted grace. 

He’s there. He wants to heal you. In fact, your healing was purchased at the point when you needed Him most. When the penalty for your sin, and mine, was satisfied on the cross. 

Love, 

A fellow sinner saved by grace

“You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly.”

Romans 5:6

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Partnership: The Joshua Blueprint

Over the past 6 months or so, God has been re-prioritizing some things for We Are The Vigilant. We’ve been in contact with our community, sharing the heart behind where God is directing us. Now, we want to share more of the story with you and anyone that would listen, really.

In short, We are the Vigilant exists to connect Kingdom-minded creatives who want to reach a hurting world with their unique resources.

We believe that as creatives, God has equipped us to give what we can. This means that even if we don’t have the dollars we can still offer our time and our talents to those who don’t have access to the opportunities we often take for granted.

We also feel strongly that as creatives, it is incumbent upon us to use our creativity to help people see things in new and challenging ways. We’ve been asking God to open our eyes so that we can, in turn, use creative means to help other people see. Calling ourselves “vigilant” is really a statement of faith. We’re asking God to help us stay awake and aware of what’s going on around us. 

One of the ways we intend to do this is by highlighting people and ministries who embody what it means to use their unique resources (or talents) to reach a hurting world.

Joshua Blueprint is the ministry of Ray and S’ambrosia Wasike.

I (Casey) met Sam in college. We were a part of the same campus ministry. While I was the worship leader for our group, I constantly made her play instruments she wasn’t all too comfortable with, like drums, for instance. Granted, as a leader I had no idea what I was doing, but she was willing to try whatever crazy thing I asked her to do and I loved her for it.

Sam and I would get together regularly to pray for our campus and anything else the Lord might lay on our hearts. She was a leader even when she didn’t know she was leading. Her heart for the Father and willingness to be vulnerable in order to show people Jesus are two of the most beautiful things about her and they feed her creativity in incredibly moving and meaningful ways.

Although I’ve never met her husband, Sam would only marry someone who is as in love with Jesus and creative as she is. Ray is from Kenya and from our brief interaction over the phone and Sam’s blog I feel like I know him already. 

Next week Sam is going to be sharing more about the heart of Joshua Blueprint. But please feel free to check out their website and GoFundMe.

For the whole month of October we’ll be highlighting their ministry and discussing some of our biblical convictions about the direction God is leading us. We hope that you’ll come along!

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Ministry: It's Not What I Thought

“And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ…”

— Ephesians 4:11-13 ESV

Too many frustrated conversations to count. 

Conversations with people who felt called to ministry but were disillusioned when it wasn’t happening the way they had imagined.

Photo Credit: Ales Krivec

They believed what I believed - that for people who were passionate about Jesus, ministry would be the acceptable way to achieve success, maybe even their own version of fame. 

I’m ashamed to admit that for the majority of my life I thought ministry was about the person who was standing on the platform with a microphone in their hand. 

It was about being known by your own little world and being admired. 

I want this to be clear; there is never a moment where I feel more like I’m doing exactly what I’m meant to do than when I’m communicating the Truth that the world needs to hear so badly. But in the last five years or so, by the grace of God, I’ve also come to wholeheartedly believe this: no one needs to know my name. 

If you’ve followed WeAreTheVigilant for any period of time, you’ve seen me hash out this internal struggle over and over. You probably didn’t notice it, but the battle that went on inside me is woven into everything I’ve ever written.

Ministry is not about being known.

I am ALREADY known.

You are ALREADY known.

We are known by the only One who matters.

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.      ”

— 1 Corinthians 13:12 ESV

This begs the question: What is ministry?

• Ministry is admitting your brokenness, your need for a Savior to a broken world that also needs a Savior.
• Ministry is acknowledging God’s incredible mercy and receiving His grace.
• Ministry is asking for forgiveness, not pretending like it didn't happen.
• Ministry is yielding to the deep work of the Holy Spirit.
• Ministry is the willingness to be uncomfortable.
• It is the divine cooperation between you and a Holy God that happens for the good of everyone that comes into contact with someone who has experienced redemption.

God has given us gifts and He has called us for one reason: to bring glory to Himself so that people would turn to Him. The idea that we would have any part of that makes me want to get on my face and weep out of gratitude.

Have you ever wanted to say, “If I can’t do this the right way then I won’t do it at all”?

Me too.

And if God rolls His eyes, I’m the most worthy recipient of said eye roll.

We take a pre-emptive strike on the call because deep down we really think that somehow this is still all about us.

A divine commission either is or it isn’t. Within the context of Jesus’ command to make disciples is there ever a moment that you shouldn't endeavor to make that command a reality? Even if it’s not in the way that you imagined?

If there is a glimmer of a chance that your participation in the great commission would draw even one person closer to the heart of God is that not a risk worth taking? Whether the context is behind a pulpit, faithfully serving your community, leading a small group, adopting a child, or late night conversations on the phone with a struggling friend, it’s all ministry.

If He gave you a specific talent or ability He has every intention of using those gifts to draw people to Himself. Where we so often get tied up is the desire to be recognized for the gifts we have merely received.  

“For who sees anything different in you? What do you have that you did not receive? If then you received it, why do you boast as if you did not receive it?”

— 1 Corinthians 4:7 ESV

Sometimes we find ourselves at a standstill because we know that in order to move forward we have to lose all semblance of control. I don’t care who you are, that’s scary. But ultimately, I think the biggest lesson we need to learn is how to get out of our own way because “when Christ calls a man he bids him come and die"*.

As disciples, the call is dying to self.

As ministers, we must lead the way in this death. Only on the other side does a truly abundant life exist and we cannot show others the way when we have not yet been there ourselves.

*Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship

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A Decade of Lessons (Pt. I)

Moving into August, my husband and I will celebrate 10 years of marriage. In honor of our decade of marriage we wanted to share 10 of the most important lessons we’ve learned since we’ve been married. Here are the first five: 

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A quick capture from our wedding day. 

1. Marriage is precious.

Matt recently wrote about some things that have been going on in our little family over the past 5 years. When, materially, we were at our weakest point, our marriage thrived. Why? Because we decided that the important thing wasn’t regaining all that we had lost, but maintaining a healthy relationship with each other. I remember times when we would look at each other knowing that we had like two dollars but we were incredibly rich for two reasons: Jesus and each other. We’d kind of shrug as if to say, “We don’t have any money but at least we can have sex.” #kiddingnotkidding 

2. My husband’s purity is not my responsibility but it is my priority.

I have to ask the hard questions sometimes. I have to encourage him to reach out to brothers in Christ because the odds are not stacked in his favor. If they’re not stacked in his favor, then they’re not stacked in mine. I refuse to turn a blind eye and not have the conversation about how he’s doing even though the answer might break my heart. We've set up healthy boundaries to safeguard both of our hearts. In the end, I care more about him and our marriage than I do about my comfort. 

3. We look at each other through eyes of potential.

When I look at that man and I see who he’s becoming I’m amazed. He constantly encourages the gifts inside me and I encourage the gifts in him. The weight of our calling is too much to carry on our own, so we help carry it for each other. Our callings are irrevocably intertwined. 

4. We realize that some things aren’t going to change.

I am going to leave towels on the floor. When I walk through the door the uncomfortable clothes are coming off and the sweat pants are going on. He recognizes and appreciates my love for food, especially tacos. He knows that I’m either making plans to eat or I’m actually eating or telling someone about something that I just ate. He will always take the biggest bites ever taken by a human being. When we leave the house, he is going to find at least one reason to go back inside before we can leave. He is also one of the most particular and meticulous men I have ever met and I…well, I am not. At all. 

5. He will never fully understand me.

He will certainly come closer than any human being ever will. But I have a desire to be fully known that cannot be fulfilled through my husband. It is a desire that was put there by God. In the past, I withheld my heart from my husband because I felt misunderstood by him. I thought that if he really wanted to understand me then we wouldn’t have this problem. But I had the problem. I wanted something from him that he was unable to give. When you want something from your spouse that you were designed to get from God you will only find a breeding ground for dissatisfaction and eventually you’ll start looking somewhere else for the satisfaction that only an all-knowing God can give. (So staahhhppp.) 

Well, there you have it. Five things I’ve learned in 10 years of marriage...although, the lessons have been more than I can count. Matt will be back next week with 5 lessons of his own and they’ll be way more interesting lessons than mine. 

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Better than Before

Some years ago we lost…well, materially, just about everything.

A series of tough breaks and the decision to transition my career had us on the ropes. 

We went from having two cars down one. Despite our best efforts, our home was foreclosed on. In every expression of the word, it was awful. 

Photo Credit: Bryan Minear

My wife and I found ourselves donating plasma so we could buy groceries. We had to pick and choose which bills to pay and what not to pay. We had to trust God around every corner for day to day things. There were moments where we had no idea where provision would come from, except that it would sometimes show up in our mailbox. The stress of that time was incredible, but the faithfulness of God had never been more real.

Life was hard. 

I transitioned from ministry and back into teaching. As a man, wanting to provide for his family, this season spread me thin. It was immensely humbling.

I was recovering from some of the gravest disappointment I had ever faced in the local church. I felt wronged, mismanaged, and sorely misunderstood.

I made the move, but it was not easy. 

I went to church, a different church, but it all hurt. Not in a surface way, but in a super, subcutaneous way – under the skin, in the heart.

I knew where I was. Not that I had wanted to be in this predicament. For a good amount of time, I struggled to see beyond the emotional weight of the situation. I was angry and broken.

My wife had taken to quoting “Pride and Prejudice” to me when we’d talk about experiences of the past, “That savors strongly of bitterness, my dear.”

It came down to this: I was unable to reconcile my experience with my convictions.

To help you understand, ministry has long been both my occupation and my calling. As a pastor, leading the church is not just what you do, it's very much a part of who you are. “Church Hurt” is a specific kind of hurt. The wound is never surface; it cuts to the quick. It invokes a spiritual ache that is hard to describe.

I knew this road to recovery would take some time, but I had no idea it would test me so much.

There I was, teaching art again. Something I had done right after college. But I taught in the toughest school in the city. I’m talking hard-nosed kids from the streets. The school was (and still is) in an incredibly impoverished and struggling area. Art has been a love of mine for many years, but I didn't like it this time. And it wasn't because I hated the school or the students. I just couldn’t see past my circumstances.

For a solid year, my wife endured my poor attitude, as we welcomed our 2nd little girl into the world. 

I was delighted to have another beautiful, baby girl. When the school year came to a close, I was approaching the two-year mark in my time away from ministry. Time gave way to relief and I was longing to lead in the local church again. I agreed to take a position somewhere new. 

The next 18 months went by quickly. While the church we were at had been struggling, God began to turn things around. We served faithfully and saw the church nearly double in size. Then, at the turn of this year (2017), we were blindsided by a family emergency. The course of action was obvious and, albeit hard, but necessary, my family and I chose to move back to Tulsa, OK to be closer to my parents.

In the midst of our move, however, we were still on the road to financial recovery. While traveling over the holidays through the beautiful state of Kentucky, the transmission suddenly gave out in our car…while barreling down the road at 65mph. And so, without a car to call our own, we packed our things, said goodbye to the people we loved, and moved back to the Midwest.

We had no assurances. 

No jobs.

No vehicles. 

No house. 

But what we lacked for in natural things, we knew God could and would provide. 

After speaking with some incredible friends, they agreed that we could live with them (and their two kids), until things panned out. (Thank God for selfless friends who live and love sacrificially!)

Within 3 weeks of our arrival, my wife landed a job. Not just any job, she was hired on at a church we love and now call home. 

Then, along came the means to purchase car. No, it wasn't a sexy, speed wagon, but we found it and in 3 hours’ time, it was ours. At this stage in the year, we, a family of four, had effectively survived for 3 months without a car!!! (For the record, I don't suggest this. We opted not to finance a car because we did not want to go into debt. So, we held out until the timing was right.)

Our living situation was good, but having a house filled with 8 people, four under the age of six, can test you as an adult. There was this nudge in our hearts to look for a house to rent. This was major. It had been 4 years since we had owned a home, and this was a sore spot for me.

Am I the only one who finds house hunting to be a full-time job? We looked and looked, but everything either slipped through our fingers or cost more than we could manage. So, we prayed. I prayed that God would grant us just the right place. My wife, a highly motivated (and pretty) woman, came upon a lovely place in a part of town well beyond our current means. But as it happened, 2 weeks after discovering it, things worked out, and we moved in.

At this rate, we were almost 3 months into our move. While my wife was employed, I was not. I had been furiously looking for work since our arrival to Tulsa. I wanted to work as an artist. After all, I had gone to school for it. Be it art making, design, museum curation, etc., I was chasing every lead I could find, yet nothing seemed to pan out.

So, I watched my girls. Me, a grown, 35-year-old male, watched my 2 daughters, ages 2 and 5, while my wife got up each day and went to work. It was a humbling and precious time that allowed me to understand the role my wife had been playing in our lives for the past few years. Stay-at-home parenting is a full-on gig, not for the faint of heart.

This routine carried on for a near 3 months, and then, I got a job. But not just any job, I scored a position as an artist and designer at a local agency. And while I was so grateful to begin work, this opportunity meant my wife and I would have to travel in opposite directions every morning to get to work. As you might have guessed, this meant I would need my own car to get there. A car we didn’t have.

God’s faithfulness was revealed yet again, when someone gave us a a car. Please understand, that up until the last few weeks, I’ve been Uber-ing rides and renting cars to make my way to work. My dad even graciously stepped in to help me for a few weeks until it all came together.

If you’re reading this, I want you to know that the last four years have tested me more than I ever thought they would. And now, in a matter of five months, God has provided my family and I with work, vehicles, and a home, where there were previously none.

But more than the things He has restored, is the man He has restored. My passion to serve my family and others is stronger than it has ever been. This is, perhaps, the greatest miracle of all: the joy I have found in trying times. I still have days where I struggle, but they do not define me, God does. His declaration over my life is final.

Some seasons are really hard, but the difficulty you face does not negate the goodness of God. 

Trials may endure, but so does His faithfulness. 

In the times where life seems to suck, no hard season can overshadow His magnificence. There’s not a moment where any circumstance or emotion will outlast the enduring, constant goodness of God. 

This realization, the understanding of this His inherent goodness, will set you free. In the end, nothing ever has or will ever defeat Him. He is unmatched in every way. 

Looking back, I can see how unmoved God has been by any apparent crisis of mine. By comparison, all that has happened is so much smaller than His capacity to meet my need.

He’s not standing outside of your present circumstance, He’s in it with you. Jesus is not waiting to meet you on the other side of whatever you’re going through. No, He’s by your side, walking with you at this very moment. He is more than able to meet your need (Phillippians 4:19-20; Romans 8:28). He is gracious, considerate, and able.

If you would acknowledge His presence, and turn to Him, He will restore you.

“But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.”

— Hebrews 11:6

Dear Reader, 

Thank you for taking the time to read this article. If this has somehow encouraged you, then I would ask that you please take a moment to share it with someone else. 

---

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Fragile

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“Since you have purified your souls by obedience to the truth, so that you have a genuine love for your brothers, love one another deeply, from a pure heart. For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God. For,

“All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flowers of the field;the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord stands forever.”

And this is the word that was proclaimed to you.”

— 1 Peter 1:22-25

It hits me like a wave. That feeling of weightiness that goes something like this: 

This is your life. Don’t waste it. 

Your life on this earth has a beginning and it has an end and if you’re reading this right now you’re right smack in the middle of it. 

There was a point this week where I felt like I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. Not because I was breaking any rules or using stealthy ninja skills that we all know I don’t have. But because I, in and of myself, did not feel like I deserved it.

It was one of those moments that was bigger than me. Has that ever happened to you? Where you find yourself in the middle of a situation you know only the grace of God achieved. I just keep thinking, "Why, God? Why?" 

Why would He do this for me? Why would He choose me for this? And then, why would He choose me for what's to come? Because if this moment is blowing me away I can't even fathom what He's got up His sleeve for me next. 

There are always two things I feel in moments like those: fragility and gratitude. 

Fragility because life is a vapor and sometimes we get glimpses of how exposed we really are. 

Gratitude because I know that I am fragile but I am also deeply and intimately cared for by a sovereign Father God who holds me together by the word of His power (Hebrews 1:3).

The same eternal word that stands forever is the same word that holds together my fragile life. 

Why am I sharing this with you? Because I want to encourage you to do things that feel risky for a cause that is bigger than you. You know why you can? Because you are loved. You are completely loved by the Creator of the Universe. Everything that’s of worth is found in Him and guess where we, as Christ followers, reside? In Him. (Colossians 2:10) 

I don’t fully understand the nuances of this union. What I know is that it is so, and it is beautiful. And realizing that we belong to Him releases within us a freedom to feel the weight of our fragility and the immense gratitude that comes along with it. 

Our only other option is fear.

But ultimately, aren't most of our fears just our excuses? Let’s just admit that when we say we're afraid what we're really saying is we value whatever we’re afraid of losing over whatever God has called us to do. Be it status, title, or material possessions, if our identity is not secure in who we are loved by and found in, then our identity will be wrapped up in lesser, more fallible things. 

My prayer lately has been, “Let my life have a far greater impact for your glory than it ever could by living on my own terms”. 

God can exponentially increase the impact of our lives for His Kingdom. But we can’t do it ruled by fear. 

We are complete and secure in Him and we have to live from that place, because then and only then will we experience the freedom to LOVE with authenticity and SERVE with sincerity - not preoccupied by who sees us or what anyone thinks of us. 

That’s the kind of thing that draws people to Jesus. And that's why we're here. 

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Within and Without

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“Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”

— Philippians 2:12 & 13

I could tell I was stuck. I’ve been here before. I know you’ve been there too. It’s a part of our humanity and it sneaks up on us. The realization that we’re not living abundantly, I mean. 

I know myself enough to know that in order to thrive it requires some form of self-expression. And I know that means communicating something, to someone, somewhere. Maybe that’s the part I’ve been avoiding. Or maybe it’s just blatantly disobeying. 

We’ve all been given gifts. Some of us know good and well what those gifts are and that God wants to use them to serve others. But because we’re afraid, or even lazy, we don’t. What we often don’t realize is that those gifts are an expression of God’s incredible grace given through the sacrifice of Jesus. When we neglect to operate in God given abilities we deny people the opportunity to experience a facet of God’s grace in our lives (1 Peter 4:10 & 11).

Disobedience makes you sad. It makes me sad. Please hear me, there is power in that realization. There’s freedom in finally admitting it to ourselves.

(I do feel the need to add that not all sadness is a result of disobedience. There could be so many other factors involved, I’m merely using a fairly recent example from my own life.)

Too many of us are just surviving, not willing to face that something isn’t quite right. But if there is something wrong let’s not ignore it any longer. Let’s not gloss it over and pretend like it isn’t there. Maybe, you’re even covering it with busyness…maybe you’re even telling yourself it’s for the sake of the Gospel.

If you want to stay in that sad place for a while, sometimes the easiest thing to do, when you feel the Holy Spirit calling you out of your slumber, is to immediately turn it inward, taking the proverbial stethoscope from the doctor and insisting you can give yourself a more accurate diagnosis.

How did I end up here again? How can I get myself out? Why does it take me so long to figure it out? Why am I such a failure? And then, finally the resolution: I’ll always be a failure. So why change?

Grace is grace because sin is sin.

And you will not know grace until you understand why you need it so desperately.

It took me far too long to come to terms with the fact that I heard the Holy Spirit and yet, I was trying to do the work. And then, I told my husband something was wrong, which is almost always the hardest part because I don’t know how he’s going to react and, for Pete’s sake, I want to fix this on my own. Rarely, does he ever react wrongly to the freight train of my emotions barreling towards him. He usually handles it well.

But can I put words to my vulnerability? Can I take this first timid step into the light?

When I initially tried talking to him the words wouldn’t come. Blah blah blah. Still sad.

Then he came in the room and said, “Don’t grow weary in well-doing, babe” (Galatians 6:9).

You know? He’s the best. And he made an assumption about me that was so sweet, but not true-that I was “well-doing”. And I wasn’t. At least not in this area. The reality was that I was “not doing” anything except looking at Instagram and watching "The Office." Self-medicating at it’s finest. 

No, it wasn’t that I was supposed to keep going. It was that I was supposed to pick up where I left off. I had left my plow in the field (Luke 9:62). I had looked back and decided it looked safer and more comfortable at home. I was not fit for the Kingdom. Oh, how I wish I could conjure it on my own. But the Holy Spirit in His grace whispers, “Pick up your plow, Casey. Pick up your plow.”

And I am utterly wrecked. Because while He’s working in me, it’s my responsibility to submit to that work and pick up my stinkin’ plow.

There is a sweetness that follows obedience. A confidence. A rest. A sigh.

He wants better for us. He wants so much more. And we keep taking. Taking for ourselves what He knows will only bring us harm. "Don't you want me to enjoy myself?" we say, accusingly. Because at the heart of our begrudging is a fundamental lack of trust. And we take one more... one more bite, one more look, one more. And in that moment, we succumb to less. No abundance for us. We already took what we wanted, we accepted the lie and made the exchange: more for less.

But if you’re reading this, it’s because I’ve decided to pick up the plow.

There is an extraordinary joy waiting for me in calloused hands.

When left to my own devices, I choose comfort. I choose safety. I am willingly deceived. We all are.

I’m so thankful that He began the work in me and He has promised to complete it. He hasn’t left me. Why? Why does He always promise to be there? Time and time again in scripture, He says He’ll be there. He won’t leave. The promise of His presence must be enough. He won’t leave when I’m numb. He won’t leave when I’m disobedient. He won’t leave when I’ve made the exchange of more for less. He has decided He loves me and He’s going to stay.

And He’s with you now. Wherever you are, reading this. And He whispers, “Pick up the plow. We’ve got work to do. I work within, you work without.”

“For this I toil, struggling with all his energy that He powerfully works within me.”

— Colossians 1:29

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