It feels wonderful to find yourself waiting in quiet hope and encouraging others to do the same. It feels dreadful to seek the God you thought you knew while hope continues to hide. It feels like a betrayal on God’s part, or a failure on yours, or both.
I hadn't previously thought it. But suddenly I knew: Psalm 23 is a song of rest – a song David started, but anyone can sing.
How could I write about rest, in a season where rest seemed to have permanently fled?
Mini-post. Majestic red rocks in Colorado Springs, and a notable verse from Psalms, offering a prayer to the God who is our rock.