I ask God to prove Himself, and it turns out He does that by letting us do the impossible: surviving some of the worst things humans suffer

There is a time to break down. There is a time to weep. There is a time to mourn. There is a time to be silent. Take it, and have peace.

I need to realize the self-fulfilled purpose of merely existing. I was created. I lived. He was glorified. It is finished.

Somewhere out there is a young woman whose life has just been derailed by Lyme, unsure if life is still worth living. For her, I write.