Suffering-Submission

I've been thinking about the glamour of the far and near sides of suffering-submission, but what about the middle of it?

I remember the first late nights after being told there was cancer in my body driving around listening to 90s rap (I was 18) getting pumped up to fight for my life, fight for Jesus. But the glitter faded at 4am on a hospital bed when my arms were bleeding or when I rejected my feeding tube and wretched and wretched.

At the altar we say yes to go to the ends of the earth, but what happens when you get rejected from the missions school now you’re working a part time job? What happens?

We say Jesus.

We scream it, cry it, whisper it. We lift up the name of Jesus because it is for this purpose we have been called.