wrestling...

Can't put my finger on when it began, but I feel like I'm in the 9th round: body aching, lips puffy, bleeding, sweat drenched body and arms struggling to steady enormous gloves that are decreasing in altitude by the second.

Jacob wrestled God in Genesis 32 - - at some point I imagine Jacob crying, "don't let go of me!" How compelling.

I'm in the ring (whatever round it is, don't know anymore, stopped counting), my bruised body crumbles down onto a stool. No sponge to wipe the blood. No coach to cheer me on. Just Jesus, standing firm in the center of the floor. He whispers, "You won't win and I'm not stopping. Don't you dare stop."

On my drive home Sunday, I stopped in Gainesville to grab a quick meal with a friend. After a stimulating conversation I hopped back in my car. The conversation lingered in my mind... my friend and I dialogued through e-mail and he challenged me with this:

Does a life pursuing truth require exhausting perseverance? Is it when we're spent, and we're at the place where it doesn't make sense to hope in truth, that we might feel fully alive?

Tears stream down my face.

My heart aches for friends who don't know Jesus. I want so badly to show them Christ's love but some days it seems purposeless. People are apathetic toward God - - many times because of their minds.

What does it really look like to "give your life to God?" Can we even do that? What does it look like to fully surrender to Him? 

Are we salt and light or are we cemented in our safe little Christian bubbles? Are we seeking to shed light in a world that is on a fast track to hell?

Is feeling spent worth it? Is being restless really where Jesus wants me? 

I believe it is. 

When I struggle with eternity, faith and trusting a God that seems too far away to care, I don't know what else to do but persevere. Albeit painful, exhausting, messy and seemingly hopeless, I can't give up.

God may not make my life better until I die and the question haunts me... am I okay with that?