Today is for gold.

Some plants die if they have too much sunshine. It may be that you are planted where you only get a little, but you are put there by a loving Farmer because only in that situation will you produce fruit unto perfection. Remember this: if any other condition had been better for you than the one in which you are, divine love would have put you there.
-Charles H. Spurgeon

& it’s that simple. It’s that concise. This is your pick-me-up, love. This is your oxygen. Because this is the place you are in, where you look around the room & see the favor of the Lord being flooded in all abundance over those surrounding you, as you’re lack luster days stand as still as the eye of the storm. This is the week where you pray for Friday because only the weekend could save your flailing body. This is the morning when panic awoke you instead of your alarm, so you could spill your coffee on your jeans in your rush to work, so you could be magnetized to a police car & receive your first ticket.

This is for you, sweet child.
Because some plants die if they have too much sunshine.

& in the midst of this you have to remember this, because this pain isn’t useless, this frustration isn’t testing. God isn’t out to get you.

This’ll yield something.
Today is for gold.

Because I know you are feeling helpless. I know you’re feeling the butt of the joke, taunted beyond measure. I know your hunger to fill that void. & in that silence, I know where your thoughts have rested, because they always come to this place of misfortune, in the midst of your fears, failure, & struggles.

& it’s so hard to be happy with them when their life is bombing them with delightful surprises. It’s hard not to raise those central fingers in response to their victory dance. But they have nothing to do with you, love. Your lack of beautiful things is in no way connected to their receiving of momentary gifts. God isn’t choosing their goodness over yours. He’s nurturing you both, the only way he knows how- to perfection.

This is the best for you, darling. & nobody ever said the best things for you are the ones with the most warm & most fuzzy feelings. This is no cake walk. This is your life, where the easy times bring rest & the hard times take you further. & God loves you in a way in which you settling into something less than he’s created you to be just isn’t going to cut it. You wouldn’t put a plant that requires minimal sunlight on the windowsill with the most beams, simply because you prefer the pretty sunlight more, would you?

Neither would he.

So here is your life, love. May it topple with love in the way that stretches you. In a way that makes your view of heaven most clear. & through it all, I pray that joy & peace are beautifully tied together in your hands.

It’s your turn, love. Break the silence. Spill your guts.

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