Jesus was led by the spirit into the wilderness that he should be tempted by the devil. Absent that leading, the question arises, would Jesus have gone willingly into the wilderness? The condescension of Christ appears to be a complete and total condescension, in that Christ chose even to submit himself to the Spirits leading. It would seem that Christ knew something of the matter as he immediately entered into a period of extreme preparation, or I suppose one could conclude that Jesus knew the tempter was coming but not his timing. Perhaps, Jesus had no intention of fasting for 40 days. It could very well be that Christ, having known only that the devil was on his way, immediately began to prepare, supposing the battle was imminent. 

There is much to ponder here, as we also know what Jesus knew, the devil is on his way! Yet, there is also still an ignorance about us, in that we know not the time. What then shall we do? We shall do as Jesus did and presume the battle is imminent, to presume the enemy is already at the gate and hour is now upon us. We would, however, be foolish not to take note of the timing. Although the number 40 seems to present itself in scripture quite often, and perhaps there is some meaning behind it on those other occasions. It does not appear to be the case here. It is quite possible the simple answer is the correct answer – The devil waited until his opponent was at his weakest point. 

In appearing to Jesus, the devil appealed first to his weakness (he was hungry)  – “Turn these stones into bread.” Jesus, having had much time to deliberate on God’s word, now demonstrates his condescension a second time as he places himself and his enemy under the authority of God’s word – “Man does not eat by bread alone but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.” This will not be a battle easily won, as it appears the second Adam will not be as easily persuaded as the first. 

As the enemies plans are frustrated, so too does the enemy himself grow frustrated. Yet again, we see an even greater condescension in that the devil took Christ to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. Scripture does not imply that the devil took him by force, so we must conclude that Christ went willingly. Pride has forever come before a fall, and so it is that Satan’s strategy has now shifted from one weakness to an even greater weakness – Pride, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down and prove it.” Satan has learned from his enemy how to wield the sword. Seeing that Christ turned to God’s word, so too would he. “‘He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’ 

Satan, proving himself to be an amateur was not fencing as with a man wielding a sword, but one who was the sword. Condescending once again, this time to his pride and to his fathers will, laying himself low and proclaiming “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” We may presume that Christ is quoting this verse to Satan as a means of saying “I will not put the Lord thy God to the test.” Yet, it could also be perceived as a warning to Satan, Implying that what the Devil is asking of Christ, will in turn be viewed not as Christ testing God, but Satan instead. 

Next we see that Satan again took him to another place, a very high mountain. A mountain in which Christ could see all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. If appealing to the physical weakness of Christ were not enough to make him stumble, or likewise to the pride that is stirred when our claims are challenged by lesser men, were still not enough to incite our savior to failure, what would?

The next logical step in this line of progression is power. Satan would appeal to perhaps the greatest weakness that man has ever known – Power. All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.” While it seems logical to conclude that somehow power equals freedom, we must first know that it always comes with a cost. In this case, the cost for Christ was to switch his allegiance to Satan. Thankfully, for us, compromise was not any part of his divine DNA.  “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’  

I am convinced that power and control are the very things that prevent so many from taking that step of condescension, laying themselves low and humbling themselves under the mighty hand of God. Willing to set aside their own desires, that their hands and hearts are emptied and free to pick up the cross and follow thee. 

It is here, where we first see the humanity of the holy, the weakness of our warrior, the meekness of the mighty, and the greatest condescension we have witnessed to this point. We see the Pre-eminent Christ, who was before all things and from whom and for whom all things have been made. We see the creator himself being restored and ministered to by his own creation, the very angels whom Isaiah himself observed encircling his throne and crying out for all eternity “HOLY! HOLY! HOLY! is the Lord God Almighty.”

This is the Condescension of Christ…The hope of our salvation!  

I stand at my window peering through the blinds – afraid to be seen and knowing that if discovered I will have visited upon myself the worst of my fears. I batten down the hatches and make no effort to stand out. As always there are children playing in their yards, fathers washing their cars and mothers hanging their clothes on the line – the typical Saturday in a community where (like Cheers) everyone knows your name.

It is true that while others know our names, our stories are as unfamiliar to one another as are the strangers to whom we have never met. I continue watching, knowing that soon the children will scatter and hide, as will the fathers and mothers that tend now to their daily chores. Yes, the scene that unfolds daily here will change, transitioning into a scene full of fear, uncertainty, and chaos. This is what terrifies me…this is the reason I hide behind these walls.

My assumption is correct and soon my prediction comes to pass, the children are frantic, the parents even more so. The shadowy figure that has visited himself upon my neighbors has again made his untimely appearance. Fear now creeps through the streets like slow churning ooze. I step back from the window and hold my breath, praying he does not come to my door.

The streets are empty now; as everyone has taken notice of the thief, they call pain. Soon there is a knock on my door, a slow, steady, and hard knock. He is letting me know (in no uncertain terms) that he intends to come in. I am persistent in my refusal to answer, yet he is all the more – a standoff that I am sure to lose. Pain will have his day whether I choose to invite him in or not. I am reluctant, but complicit, knowing that the sooner I get it over with the better off I will be. I slowly and cautiously begin the process of allowing this unwelcomed visitor into my home.

As the door swings open, pain floods into my home like the warmth of an afternoon sun radiating off the windowpanes. I am rendered speechless; the pain is intense and I am stripped of whatever strength I perceived myself to have. I am lying now at the foot of the door and unable to move, or even cry out for help. Pain now fully enters my home and leaves me begging for death. Those whom have had the unlucky pleasure of entertaining his company will say that in time it gets better. I disagree; the pain is still there, we just don’t feel it anymore.

Pain like medicine is good in small doses; it still tastes bad, but serves its purpose in making us stronger. Unfortunately, when pain is poured and not measured it is deadly. Pain in small doses will let us know we still have life, but too much will leave us wishing we didn’t. So how do we manage when the pain is so great that death is the better option? We don’t! The truth is that pain usually manages us. We see this often in those that have a pulled muscle, a pinched nerve, or a twisted ankle. Watch how they walk…how they carry themselves. It doesn’t take long for the casual observer to notice that something is wrong. We see the limp, we notice how one might favor their hurting members.

If this is true of our physical bodies than it stands to reason that it is likewise true of our non-physical bodies as well. When we hurt…we limp! We favor the part that is hurting until the pain stops, or until we stop noticing the pain (The former to our benefit – the latter to our detriment). When pain makes his home in our heart and becomes for us a new normal, we are in grave danger of losing sight of others and the pain they too have borne. We become less sympathetic, less concerned, calloused and hard hearted toward others who are also hurting, those who just need to know that someone understands and is willing to walk with them, and if able, to share in shouldering that burden. I am grateful that through it all I have “a friend that sticks closer than a brother.” A friend that walked his own road, full of suffering and pain, but still willing to return in hopes that he might shoulder mine as well.

2 COR 1:3-8

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, ⁴ who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. ⁵ For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. ⁶ If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. ⁷ And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.⁸ We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters,^[a] about the troubles we experienced in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself.

So many thoughts rushing through my head, like an engine that was never meant to be shut down, but neither was it meant to run at idle. Wide open, always, torturing me through the night as I toss and turn fighting for my rest. I wake, exhausted and hoping today is not more of the same. I reach for inspiration, but often I pull back an empty hand. I know well that my grasp will not likely be rewarded…yet still I reach.

I pray that things will change, that the tide will turn as the momentum shifts in my favor, yet the battle remains uphill-it seems it always will.  I play defense mostly, as I guard my heart against the bitterness that threatens to overtake me. The same bitterness that feeds the deadly mouth of cynicism. The combination of the two is a poison that kills our joy and adds misery to our suffering.

The word declares that if we ask it shall be given, we must however ask with right motives, and for any who lack wisdom the scriptures proclaim that we should make that request and father of lights who is the giver of all good gifts will provide in abundance. So I ask, checking and rechecking the motivation behind my requests. My prayer is simple – Lord, give me back my voice, give to me the inspiration that fuels my passion…Simply put: Restore my passion, restore my joy.

Finally, it happens. It’s Friday night and the community has gathered into their holding pen like trained sheep. The hometown football team is ahead by a significant margin, so with only a few minutes left on the clock my son will finish out the game at QB. This is the day he has waited for -his moment in the sun. Ty ran the first few plays and watched as the clock unwound. On what would prove to be the last play, and winning by a comfortable margin, he looks to the clock and finds 3 seconds remaining. What does he do? Instead of running out the clock and ushering in the moment when they all can celebrate their victory – He calls a timeout. I must admit that even the refs looked stunned. The coach appeared to wave off the time out and the game ended. When asked why he had called the timeout his answer was simple – I wanted to score.

I was proud of the determination he showed and I am thankful for the lesson this taught me, both in life and in ministry. You see, the clock is running and though we might be ahead and the victory a certainty, we need to realize that in life there is no timeout. We cannot simply stop the clock when time nears its end. If we are going to score in life we cannot wait till the end of life to do it. We should start now.

This may seem like a small thing, but for me this simple anecdote was enough, it was a reminder that “he will never leave us, nor forsake us.” In my moments of greatest despair I have trained myself to look for inspiration, and in his goodness the lord saw fit to provide – even if it was through a boneheaded move by a determined young man who just wanted to score.

Its early, one of those mornings when you abruptly waken to realize you have overslept your alarm clock and are late for work. I jump out of bed and begin to rush through my typical morning routine, as if it really matters now. Through what little light that is offered from a soft morning sun, I fumble for my clothes, I try in vain to not wake my sleeping beauty. Yet when I glance to the place I know she will be, I find that she has already risen. Then it hits me, its Saturday, while I have somewhere to be, it’s not work, and I am not late. I slow my pace considerably. Instead I take it in.

I take in the fact that while I have spent the solid part of 20 minutes rushing through a simple routine, my wife has instead been methodical about hers. She has in fact already finished her morning walk and is now sitting in her chair reading her bible and drinking her cup of coffee. This routine has been as important as any routine that mankind has mustered in his mind. It began with simply an exercise. For health reasons, Lori began to walk every morning, this walk however would turn into a journey with Jesus as He too would rise early and go along.

Its here on these walks when she has the time and the chance to unload the burdens she’s borne. A chance to drop that excess weight, both physical and spiritual. I think back sixteen years ago to the birth of our first child and realize that from day one she has questioned her abilities as a mother, mentor and friend. Having added five more to the fold things have yet to change. She still has doubts…We all do I suppose.

But there on those little walks with Jesus, he calms her fears and applies his grace like a slave to her often broken heart. If she spends too much time pondering the events of the last year her pace will slow and the weight is added back like a heavy coat, slowing her even more. Thankfully the weight is a reminder and not a burden. A reminder “to come unto to him.” And she does.

Her strength is remarkable and her faith is unparalleled. As a man, like many, I had, I think formed an element of pride in what I considered to be my own strength. Perhaps I have a failed understanding of strength. I adjusted, I pressed on, I dug deep…all the while never really being honest with myself about certain events and how they have affected me, or should I say infected me. Truth is that strength is what I was witnessing in my wife, I was instead dealing with an infection. One that if not handled by the great physician himself would have been deadly.

What I have witnessed in her is the resilliance of one who knows where to take her troubles and is determined to do so no matter how much it hurts.”A woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” She gets up every morning to school the children, nurse their wounds, kiss their cheeks, and make their many appointments. She knows the strength she needs must come from another source. So she exposes her weaknesses, believing that in her weakness she will find his strength…and she has. I however am still learning this lesson and still nursing the infection. Thank you Lori for all that you have taught me and for your deep and abiding love of Christ.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY….

Just a little over sixteen years ago Lori and I welcomed our oldest child (Isabel) into the world. To say I was nervous would be an understatement, I was scared to death at the thought of being responsible for another human being. Making sure she was fed, bathed, and even clothed properly. I remember the first time Lori left me in charge of all these tasks was on a Wednesday night and when I got to church a kind lady (Linda Mullis) politely informed me that Isabel’s pants were on backwards. I was a mess, and truthfully speaking I wasn’t just nervous about being a new father, I was scared to death.

A lot has happened since that time, and I am not longer as scared as I once was. In part that is because I have learned that “perfect loves casts out all fear.” If one should desire to be a good father it is of particular importance for them to learn from the heavenly father about the heart of a father. Having spent some time attempting to understand my role better from a scriptural standpoint, I now realize that a good father will only carry you so far. At some point he must set you on your feet and ask you to walk. Of course he will never abandon his child, but he will have certain expectations.

When Isabel started her Ballet journey several years ago, neither myself nor Lori knew how far she was willing to take it. She had already tried playing ball, she was done with that the first time she got hit. She tried piano for a while as well and for whatever reason it just wasn’t her thing. Lori worried about her not making friends and/or being willing to get out of her box. In fact there was even a time where as a family we prayed about her making friends. It has always been difficult for Isabel to step up and step out of that box. That is until she found Ballet. She seemed to metamorphosis right before our eyes. She was captivated by the world of dance, and even developed a love for classical music, which is a strange phenomenon in this generation of teens. I remember one year we went to browsers flea market in Eastman, Georgia in order to buy up all the classical records they had for Isabel’s Christmas gifts…that was all she wanted (along with a record player of course).

However the Journey now seems to be more of a passion that is likely leading to her calling. The only advice I can give her is travel the road as far as it goes, and go no further lest the Lord instruct you. Just because the road comes to an end does not necessarily mean the Journey is over, It may mean the Lord is expecting you to do a little off-roading. Unfortunately the path is not as smooth, and your bound to hit obstacles and barriers when you do go off-road. Having said that the smooth sailing for Isabel looks to have come to an end, at least in her eyes anyway. You see last year when she left IBC in Mississippi, she knew she wanted to go on to more intensives the following summer. However Isabel has still not gotten over the fact that she started ballet late in life and cannot seem to understand that “we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.” Therefore in her mind she honestly did not think she would get accepted to any of them. Turns out she did, in fact she was accepted into both places she auditioned for.

Here is where the grand illusion begins, the school she wants to attend is in Orlando, Florida and the cost is fairly significant. As a father who wants to teach his daughter to walk and work, I put the ball in her court. I told her if you want to go, you must raise the money. For Isabel this seems like an impossible task. She has sold some t-shirts but the task in her mind is insurmountable. For this I am glad, I say that because until we reach the point of humble resignation to God’s plan, we are only spinning our wheels. Isabel sent me a text this morning and I have been thinking about it all day long. Here is what she said:

I know if God wanted me to go, he could provide the resources. I have no doubt about that. But I am really worrying myself to death about it and I am scared the scholarship thing wont email me back in time for me to register. Like I said its ok, its not a big deal. When I said I wanted to audition I told you I would raise the money, but I didn’t think I would get into any of them. let alone both. I wasn’t prepared, that was my fault and I learned a lesson.

Yes, she has learned a lesson. I expect she will also learn the heart of her father now. Not me, but her heavenly father. Like I said, it is my job to teach her how to walk, but I will not abandon her on the journey. I am posting here a go fund me page that Isabel started and am humbly asking that if anyone is willing to help her please do…it’s all I want for my birthday. I am so very proud of her and I know that you all are as well. Thank you for reading my musings.

https://www.gofundme.com/summer-intensive-2019-fundraising?fbclid=IwAR0Gq4IUUkDN_dCWgM2PMeDVVNIAsroaRaq7OAWlNKPhZNqXtJipZtqkolY

It is true what scripture says…”A brother is born for adversity.” But before I explain what this means to me today I must put things in the proper context. Just before Thanksgiving Lori and I discovered that our Son Ty had done some things in our home that have and will continue to have a profound effect on us. This is a deeply personal matter and I have debated as to whether or not I should write about it here. Yet it occurs to me that what has happened in our home has likewise happened in the homes of countless other people around the world and maybe just maybe the Lord will use this post in a way that brings healing and hope to others.

Like any other couple with 6 children, Lori and I came to the realization that we needed to make time to invest in each other. As a result we began going on dates, usually Friday evenings when Belle was home and could watch after the little ones for us, Justin and Ty were more than capable of seeing after themselves. Typically it was a movie night for us and we would wait until the last showing so as to make sure we had time to get the feedings and baths done before we left. Belle would only then be responsible for putting them in the bed. On this night as we made our way home from Warner Robins I received a phone call from Belle, she sounded as if she was hyperventilating, hysterical would be an understatement. Immediately I assumed the worst, I tried for several minutes (minutes that seemed like hours) to calm her down as I attempted to find out what was wrong. What she would eventually come to tell us that night would forever alter our family. Belle had discovered some things that Ty was doing to another one of our children. Unfortunately that night she blamed herself. She was the one on duty, the one we had entrusted to watch over the kids, in her mind it was all her fault.

The emotions I felt that night were emotions I had not felt in decades. In the past I struggled with anger, I would hold onto things, continue to push them down deep into my soul and hope they just went away. They never did. Eventually I would store up so much anger that there was no room left and I would explode in a blind fit of rage. I know full well what it means to see red as my eyes would literally fade into black and turn into a sea of red. This all came to a head while I was in the service and dealing with a mix of complicated emotions. In the process I was forced to seek counseling in a program known as ADAPC. I likewise spent about 3 days in the hospital for what they would call homicidal behavior.

Within the next couple of years I made the transition from military to civilian life, Lori and I would go on to start our lives together and most importantly I would come to know the Lord Jesus Christ. Since that time I have not dealt with anger. I guess in a naïve way I thought it was completely gone, that is until this night. As I arrived home I felt that anger come over me, I ran upstairs and picked Ty up out of his slumber. I honestly have no idea what my intentions were that night, all I know is, my eyes were fading to black and as the sea of red began to crash over me in a flood of hate, something else was coming over me as well. This had never happened before, I was never able to hold back this flood in the past, but now something else was happening and suddenly I began to see clearly again. My only explanation is that the God I had come to trust in had somehow broken through and the separated the waters of rage that began to fill my mind.

The next few weeks were without question the hardest weeks of my life. I have experienced pain in the past, both physical and emotional. This however was beyond pain, it was paralyzing. I struggled with knowing how to minister to my family, my wife, my daughters and my sons. How do I hold us together when forces that seem to be much stronger than myself are literally tearing us apart at the seams? Lori and I have faced difficulty in the past, but after 18 years together I can say that never before has our marriage been tested as it has through this. I began to fall apart, I offered to resign from the Church even, thinking that I was no longer qualified to serve. I demanded things from my family that they were not ready to give. I grew impatient with them when they failed to respond in what I thought was the biblical way. As I reached out for help I found that the Church is still there and Jesus Christ is as alive now as he ever was. But still I was hurting, I felt as if I was dying inside, a slow and agonizing death.

Thankfully several months before this incident occurred, my brother had planned and paid for our family to join his in Disney World a couple of weeks before Christmas. Ty could not join us, but for the rest of the kids it was a welcome retreat from the misery we had been living. While in Orlando my brother and I had an opportunity to sit and talk…a lot. There were many nights there when we stayed up until 2 or 3 in the morning just reminiscing. It was nice, it was needed more so than he will ever know. I always looked up to Jason. He seemed always to be the one that could make anything work. I never knew quite how he did and still does it, but he hasn’t changed in that regard. Yet the thing that I looked up to the most was his compassion. Jason always seemed to identify better with the broken, maybe it’s because he can identify the broken. He is no stranger to brokenness himself, there was a time when I had entered into his suffering and it was dark, so dark I wondered at how a man could live in such darkness for any length of time. I grieved for him daily and I worried about him often. Yet the experience has shaped him in ways that have made him the man he is today.

During our adoption training we were told that the sibling relationship is the strongest relationship in the human experience. Jason and I have been through a lot together, and I guess it’s partially due to our shared experiences and the sibling relationship that he is able to see the things in me that others could not. Jason Knew I was falling apart, he knew that I was in exceptional danger of allowing my circumstances to overwhelm me. To my surprise, he called just after we returned from Orlando and said he would be flying into Atlanta just after Christmas to spend an undetermined amount of time here. He assured me his wife and children were ok with his plans, that his church and in-laws were both in agreement with him and that they were all praying for our family.

For the next four weeks Jason would show me how to properly minister in a time of such pain and uncertainty. He was patient with us, he was kind to us and he was always near to us. He represented the Lord in ways that I had not. He was a welcome distraction for Justin and taught him many things about life in the process and Justin will miss him dearly as will we all. The Sacrifices that I have made in the past for my own family pale in comparison to the sacrifices that Jason has made for us all in this time of desperation.

Sadly Jason will be getting on a plane today and returning to his own. However I have learned so much from watching him, things that will stay with me forever. But perhaps the most important thing is the simple reminder that Ministry is about making one’s life a little easier to live in the midst of a broken world, and to do so in a way that screams the Love of Jesus in the process.

Thank you Jason for making my life easier in this process…a brother really is born for adversity.

P.S.

Thank you Paula, Cameron, December and Isaac for sharing your husband and father with our family during this difficult time. I pray your sacrifices will be repaid in full and that your cup shall runeth over.

The day began with a great sense of anticipation, it was Sunday, and as always there was a certain amount of anticipation for the obvious reasons. After all it is the Lords Day and anything is possible. Yet brewing and bubbling in the deeper recesses of my own heart was another reason.  Something I had looked forward to for a long time, something that I likewise had been praying about for a long time as well. Now here it was, the day I had been waiting for, the day when I would see with my own eyes how all the prayers and all the work would come together to culminate in a performance that in my mind was brilliant.

For those that know my oldest daughter (Isabel) they know that she is a quiet and reserved young woman. Not one to make a fuss or even attempt to stand out for any reason at all.  Isabel has never been one to crave attention. I often use my children in sermon illustrations and when I do, I absolutely expect there to be some fallout when I get home. She has always been this way, even in school she was afraid to raise her hand and ask questions about matters she didn’t understand.

Having said all that I was shocked when she came to me several years ago and said she wanted to take ballet. My first thoughts were that she would try it out, only to discover very quickly she was swimming in the wrong lake and want to jump out as quickly as she jumped in. To my surprise, she fell in love with it. Since that time her love has only grown and matured in ways I never expected. Unfortunately in the ballet world Isabel had a late start. This has haunted her for years, thinking that she will never overcome in diligence what she lost in time. The 6 or 7 years prior to her starting ballet, in her mind were critical and formative years…years that she missed.

However discouraged she was and is when she thinks too long about those lost years, she never let it be a deterrence. She only pushed harder, trained harder, stretched more often, read more books, and followed more dancers. One day she came to me and asked if I would let her try out for a summer intensive in Atlanta. I prayed about it and agreed, the only roadblock she had left was her mother. Who for obvious reasons is very protective of her children. Initially the answer was no. Isabel would come to me and ask if I would talk to her momma and try to convince her to say yes to her dreams. I would tell her to pray, “pray that your momma would have a change of heart and concede to your dreams, with the knowledge that this could be God’s will for your life, and the only way to find out would be to travel this road.”  There is just as much of a need for missionaries in the liberal arts as there is in Africa.

This went on for what seemed like months, then one day while in her room I noticed a small notebook that read “BALLET JOURNAL”.  I did the unthinkable…I read her journal. Afterwards I sat on her bed and cried, this journal was full of prayers, prayers that her father would approve, prayers that her mother would approve, prayers that God would help her on this journey. Until then I had no idea just how important this was. I prayed harder and with more sincerity as a result. Eventually God would answer her prayers and Lori would concede to the idea of Isabel going off for the summers to study this art she had come to love.

So here it was, the day that I had prayed for and longed for in my own heart, the day that Isabel would take center stage and dance on her own, her first real Solo since she began this journey. My heart was racing in the moments leading up this cataclysmic event. My eyes shifted from left to right scanning the stage and waiting impatiently while at the same time never wanting this moment to end. Suddenly she appears and I watch in utter amazement at the beauty of it all. This was my daughter, the shy one, the one that never wanted the spotlight, and here she is embracing her moment and dancing as I had never witnessed her dance before. With every leap from the stage my heart would leap from my chest. The beauty and the grace literally took my breath away, and just like I had after reading her journal…I sat and wept.

In the midst of all that I was feeling in that moment my mind shifted to the passages of scripture that tell us of a time when David danced before the Lord. I realized then that David too must have felt a great deal of anticipation as he waited for the day when he could finally bring the Ark back to its proper home. The dancing seemed to be an impulse that he couldn’t shake, the day that he had waited for was now finally here and the natural response for him was to dance. I’m not quite sure how Isabel feels about it in her own heart, but looking back I cant help but wonder if the same was true for her.  That in some way all of those years she had prayed and begged God to give her the chance had now culminated in what I will dare to say was the proudest moment of my life as her father…

I Love You Isabel, and I couldn’t be prouder.

-daddy