My body was riddled with pain and it hurt to move. It hurt to exist.

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In a moment of raw honesty I remember writing in my journal, “I wish my illness was terminal, because at least there would be an end in sight.”

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The humility of being human is real. The weight of the cross is heavy, like nails digging into flesh. The journey to our eternal home is a true exile.

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We have permission to be real about how awful and challenging it can be.

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And yet, grace.

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Last night I was laying in a hammock in the exact same spot, sick with a stomach bug and yet knowing the illness wouldn’t last forever. And I was praying over the space and the hearts that will fill this view in 11 days when I give a talk to 50 people - telling them about the intimacy the Lord brought about through this exact illness, this exact cross.

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Through my exact humanity.

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And I get to share about the intimacy He desires with each of us, heart to heart, bridegroom to bride.

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Years ago, in this very spot, when I had terminal illness and hopelessness in mind, the Lord already had glorious restoration in the works.

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You can’t pull moments like this together, only grace can imagine this sort of glory to glory.

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I’m humbled and so grateful for the provision and kindness of the Father, and I’m so glad it wasn’t terminal illness. I’m so glad He had something beyond glorious in mind - He always does.

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Whatever your hammock is, whatever your exile looks like right now, He is in your midst. He is with you, heart to heart. He desires deep intimacy with you.

Your restoration is already being drawn into existence by His fingertips, and it will be nothing short of glory to glory.

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Written April 18, 2023