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The prodigal in pig slop doesn't preach, he pleads. He doesn't describe the mud, he kicks up dirt and goes home.
Spurgeon saw his disability as divine, his gout as godly and his suffering as safety. His greatest blessing wasn't wellness or strength or grit or ability or victory, but it was sickness, sorrow and loss
If this is where my story ends, just give me one more breath to say, "Hallelujah."
Imagine. To be favored with illness. What would that do to our industry? Well, for this little corner of it, may the curtain we pull back this week be a source of perspective; a reservoir of comfort; a reminder that faith doesn't mean fitness. (It's almost absurd to clarify it, I know.) But may the curtain we pull back be the black velvet where God's love glitters. After all, like me, someone you know needs help finding the the door.