We opened our door into the blinding lights of a dozen emergency vehicles, twisted metal and an explosion of glass. Two jet pilots here for training and covered in the powder of it say our new, sleek van saved their lives. Parked on the street in front of our apartment, it took the final impact of the high-speed chase as they passed on the sidewalk.
A client shared the story of an interview. The 40-something candidate became agitated during the salary and benefits discussion and complained of a headache, raising questions about his suitability for hire. The next morning he was in a coma. He had suffered a devastating stroke.
A friend in a high position related an act of unthinkable misconduct that shattered an organization.
We’ll all fight a great battle. Countless times J. and I have petitioned ourselves to trust God and do the next thing. The first part of that is hard. I remember an afternoon when J. pulled me up from the pit with the 23rdPsalm. Say it with me. Say it with me to savor every word.
The second part is on us and it’s harder. It means we have to get up. To bring some kind of order to chaos…to work 80 hours a week for six months to stand in the gap created by the removal of a leader…to rise like a giant to overcome tremendous physical deficits…to rise over depression to get up and make the bed.
When we trust…when we get up to do the next thing, we triumph.