I am indwelled by joy.
I am exhausted. I am under-rested. I am ridiculously behind in my final class. I am scraping together my shekels to last through my first paycheck of my upcoming job. I cannot decide whether my love of the classroom and library is greater than my burnt-out will to study. I grieve for the mental illness of a beloved, aged relative. I fear that I am insufficient. I live outside my well-rehearsed plans.
and I am indwelled by joy.
My parents led a total of 31 Christians, mostly teenagers, through the streets of a Texan town yesterday. 1,300 families were invited to participate in a fresh ministry and a loving church family. 31 people reached 1,300 families. 1,300.
My friends each stand at the precipice of new life-points. They each face, in different ways, those points at which they are choosing to move forward and surrender to the future in spite of their fears.
My fellow patriots spend their waking hours calling for liberty and denouncing tyranny. We are succeeding. We will not cease.
In two days I collect the keys to my new home. In five days I watch a friend complete one of her dreams. In ten days I begin the most important job of my career thus far and will spend the next six months striving to unseat an agent of tyranny. In thirteen days I graduate from seminary.
In this moment I am in a forest with laptop and books, very tired and busily working, and I am indwelled by joy.