I hear you. As a mom, I hear you; as a missionary, I hear you; as a wandering human trying to see mercy in a world with an often hardened heart (and as one whose heart could use some tenderizing, I guess!) I hear you. Thank you for putting this into words.
I awake with that Holy Ache.
If there is any time I feel this acutely it’s on Monday mornings, where I try to move between a resurrection Sunday and the real-world Monday. Where I move from the weekend rest and peace, to the week day chaos and problems.
We who are human know this Holy Ache. It is something that transcends cultures and generations, something that will be part of us until our life on this earth is complete.
It’s the one that reminds us that we are in between. We are in the not yet; the messy middle. That place where we know what we see is only a fraction of the real story, yet we ache for that real story to be revealed, to come to fruition. We are ‘between the lost and the desired’.
A Holy Ache.
That ache we feel when we read or hear the…
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