We all struggle. We all have these thoughts that echo our defeat. We all have our pits where we trip up in the same way and wonder whether we’ve even been walking with Jesus all along. Sometimes the glory to glory feels like battlefield to battlefield, without victory.
I go back to France in my mind sometimes—that place of my greatest weaknesses, where the worst parts of me came roaring alive. I stared at my soul in those times, wondering who in the world am I? I thought I’d been a strong, trusting Christian, but I found that when Job-like experiences flung my way, I resorted to hiding, fear, sin, and depression.
I would never say that my time in France meant fruit. But as I look back on that devastation, I see growth. Exponential growth based on way too many trials.
So I guess what I’m saying is, maybe we’re not such good judges of our sanctification when we’re in the midst of the trauma. Maybe God is bigger than even our trials and failures. And maybe He can take the broken pieces of us, that don’t even look like an offering, and make something beautiful.