So often I catch myself mulling over concerns; wallowing in them like a pig in the mud, rolling over and over the worries I have for my loved ones.
I catch myself and come to my senses like the Prodigal Son and turn my face towards Home.
I remember the King who poured his life out and did not see the fruit of his labors pre-resurrection.
He had to be the loser first.
Yes, we must keep praying!
We must, I must, keep looking to Jesus with this plank in my eye, letting him teach me to remove it and love.
And then I have to get out there and die.
I have to lose.
I have to plant myself, and truth and grace, in the lives of those God has put around me.
And wait.
Cause I’m the farmer. I’m not the King.
And soon, and very soon, we are going to see the King!
And all will be well.
Sheila Dougal 