The Feminist Plot Twist

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My grandma, a firstborn (and her mother as well), I’ll always remember her as my fierce defender, giving grandpa a sharp rebuke after I came in crying having crossed gardening implements with him while defending an unauthorized dam project. She wielded her matriarchal authority well, always able to stand up to grandpa as need be and yet never in a demeaning or inappropriate way.

My mother, also a firstborn in her family, was always willing and able to plot her own course. She sent us to public school, after stopping in at a local Elementary school and feeling comfortable with the staff there, which is unusual in conservative Mennonite circles where everyone else was fleeing to the safe spaces of parochial and home school alternatives. She taught us to think and now, as a grandma, has helped to start a medical clinic, which she currently manages.

My eldest sister, a firstborn, was a trailblazer. To pursue her childhood dream of being a medical doctor, faced a strong headwind of conservative Mennonite cultural ideas as to the appropriate role of women. She was always an overachiever, set the bar impossibly high for me, she was all-state violin, she finished in the top tier of her class and did this as the child of two high school dropouts. Her academic success continued throughout her university years and into medical school. She now runs a pediatric clinic for Amish children with genetic disorders.

My little sister continues to impress. She has always been her own person, able to hold her own with three older siblings, and has also progressed with her own education. She’s a registered nurse and, more recently, a certified midwife. Petite and pretty, as she is, she is quite capable of speaking her mind and has always kept me honest in any kind of intellectual discussion. She is both sensitive and practical, feminine and fearless or at least she’s not afraid of snakes like I am.

The point is, I have always been surrounded by strong and independent women. Sure, my grandma, my mother, and both sisters (at least through their time in school) all dressed according to conservative Mennonite religious/cultural tradition. But this outward appearance did not mean they were oppressed, the women in my life would never allow it, and that’s how it should be.

Women Should Be Given Special Protection

One of the results of feminist backlash against patriarchal abuse is the idea that the differences between men and women are entirely a social construct rather than something of nature. Of course, this is in defiance of science and things that are easily observed. Men and women are physically different, that’s how we make the distinction at birth, and also slightly different in our natural programming.

Sure, not every woman wants a pink ribbon in her hair. We’re all unique individuals. And, absolutely, women can do the same mental and basic physical tasks as men. Women can be engineers, men can be hairdressers, and there’s nothing at all wrong with those who go against gender stereotypes. But, generally, when women are allowed to be women, and men are allowed to be men, there are distinct tendencies that emerge.

There is social conditioning or expectations pertaining to gender and yet it isn’t all a construct. Consider the fact that female athletes suffer more injuries, like ACL tears, due to their physiology or hormonal differences. Men do tend to be physically bigger. Women are also capable of doing something that a man can’t do. Women are generally better at some things and men are better at other things. It’s just our biology at work.

For this reason, absolute equality is not ideal. Female athletes may complain about unequal pay and yet none would want to compete on an equal field against men. Men would completely dominate female sports. There is no woman out there that would be able to beat the most elite men for their positions in professional or even collegiate sports. Take the UPenn swimmer who now identifies as a woman, allowed to compete in the NCAA women’s competition despite being born with male genitalia and competing as a man only a few years ago, who is now crushing women’s records.

Even on hormones, male genetics is an unfair advantage.

And that’s exactly why we have separate leagues for men and women.

I haven’t heard anyone say that the very existence of the WNBA is patriarchal and should be abolished in the name of equality, have you?

Women should be given special accommodations. They do have to contend with a different set of circumstances from men and thus should therefore be privileged in some situations. That’s why we have separate sports leagues, restroom facilities, among other things, to allow fairer competition, greater safety, and simply more opportunity for women. Protecting women is a matter of survival for the species.

The ‘Birkenhead Drill’ (otherwise known as “women and children first“) refers back to a tragic incident in 1852. The H.M.S. Birkenhead, a Royal Navy troopship, was sailing around the horn of Africa with 634 souls on board and collided with uncharted rocks. It began to take on water and was doomed to sink. In the chaos, where it was discovered that many of the lifeboats on the ship were unusable, the seven women and thirteen children were loaded onto the few functional emergency craft and lowered into the sea.

Originally the idea would have been to allow the men to jump overboard. However, anticipating that this might imperil the boats in the water, the commanding officer ordered his troops to “stand fast” rather than jump in, which they did—as the ship split in two and went under the waves they stood like good soldiers. This act of self-sacrificial courage does not make sense in an economy where all are equal. Why should these men have been expected to give their own lives for sake of women and children?

But the answer is quite simple. Both the womb and youthfulness represent the greater potential for our species. It is simply for sake of our collective survival, so that there is a next-generation to follow, that in these dire circumstances men instinctively know who is most valuable (usually of their own clan) and act accordingly. And thus, when there is no other way, a handful of women and children do indeed become worth the lives of hundreds of men. It’s a privilege of being a woman.

Statistical Disparities and Oversimplification

I have a new coworker. Other than experience, his qualifications are similar to my own and we perform many of the same tasks. I’m not actually sure what he gets paid, although I do know that it is probably different from the compensation that I receive. It could be more, could be less.

If it would turn out that this new colleague gets paid more than I do could we assume the reason?

Is it because he is taller than me?

Statistics do show that taller men, amongst the many privileges they have, do earn more on average than shorter men. This would make my pay deficit seem like an open and shut case of height discrimination, right? Except, it is not. There is a multitude of reasons why one employee could receive better compensation than another. Maybe he put more hours in? Perhaps he is better at negotiating in the hiring process? I mean, his height could help, who knows? But it is not a certainty and we would have to look into more variables before drawing our conclusions.

Unfortunately, when it comes to similar disparities elsewhere, like the differences in outcomes between genders, many will neglect multi-variant analysis and lock onto the most simplistic explanation. Relevant to this blog, if there aren’t as many female scientists, or there appears to be a pay gap between men and women, then this must be some sort of systemic bias against women, right? I mean, what else could it possibly be?

Of course, the possibilities are endless. No two jobs or people are alike. Assuming gender discrimination also neglects the possibility that most women may (for a variety of good reasons) choose to work fewer hours, be less assertive, or interested in promotion on average, than men with the same titles. I mean, perhaps there is more to their life than earning a paycheck? And, for the same reason, the lifestyle, most men wouldn’t truly want to be a CEO. A more demanding higher paying job simply is not desirable to most people.

Besides, there are other ways to gain wealth that doesn’t involve punching a time card. We often hear how women earn less. And yet somehow, despite this, women also make more consumer decisions and spend more than men. How are both of these things possible? Well, simply, there are other ways of obtaining resources other than going to the office. The wives of Jeff Bezos and Bill Gates, for example, did not become wealthy by their own market innovations or CEO-level workaholism.

Statistics show that women earn more college degrees, is that a result of systemic anti-male discrimination?

Equal Opportunity, Not Outcomes

A woman who wants a career should not be hindered. I believe that all people should be free to pursue what they see as best for them. There are women who are brilliant mathematicians, engineers, and scientists, they should be allowed to pursue an education and compete for employment like a man. That’s truly equal opportunity and fair.

What’s not fair is when institutions begin lowering standards to meet diversity quotas. Not only does that cheat those who are actually qualified and had to meet the higher requirements, but it will also produce a stigma that disqualifies the achievement of even for those who truly did earn their positions. The sad irony of a “diversity hire” (when someone gets the job because of their genitalia, skin color, or anything else not actually related to the work needing to be done) is that it only reinforces the negative stereotypes.

Not everyone is cut out to be an Olympic gymnast. It would make no sense to replace Simone Biles with a slightly overweight middle-aged male and, for the same reason, it is absolutely absurd to lower physical standards for sake of opening spots for women who would not qualify otherwise. It is not fair to individuals nor beneficial to the collective society to give some a free pass. Equality of effort and qualifications is as important as equality of opportunity, but equality of outcomes is impossible. I’m never going to land a triple-twisting double somersault. Ever. And that’s not because the system is stacked against me.

Differences in ability should not be thought of as being less valuable. Some can dance, others can carry a rucksack for twelve miles, I’m pretty sure I’m not up to either task at the moment, but I am a good friend and decent writer. None of those things are worth much in terms of monetary wealth and yet all things fulfilling in their own way. So who decides what is or is not valuable again? And is money truly the measure of value?

Money and Masculine Qualities Are Overvalued

One of the biggest lies of our time is that value is something that is measured in dollars and cents. I mean, sure, we need money to buy stuff and therefore the ability to obtain this resource is important. And yet there are many extremely wealthy and completely unhappy people. A big bank account does not provide the security, nor the sense of purpose in this world, that many seem to believe it will.

For that reason, it is sad to me to see so many people, women in particular, who seem to think that the rat race is what life is truly about. Modern parents seem to have decided the things they can provide are more important than their time together and shunt their children to daycare. It is unnatural, dare I say unhealthy (in that it robs children of a safe space) to outsource the next generation to low-wage workers. How did we get to this point where we would rather put our best efforts in for corporations, and those who would replace us in a second, over our own future?

Somehow we have become convinced that masculine interests and abilities are superior. The one thing that women can do, that is carry a child in their womb, is treated as something unimportant or second-rate rather than as the most wonderful of things. Our forebears were wiser, they understood what “the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand the rules the world” and the incredible power of the nurturing mother. But, now, instead of men and women complementing each other, working to their own strengths, and being valued for unique their roles, we have them competing for the same spot.

Who sold us this bill of goods and why?

Without a doubt, women have faced patriarchal abuse and discrimination. But is the answer really to this really to measure success in terms of career and raw income earning potential? Is it really empowering women to tell them that their own unique abilities, as women, do not matter and political power is everything? I mean, it’s a lie. I have no deep love for any politician out there, not even those I’ve voted for, but have endless appreciation for my mother and would die for Charlotte. This idea that somehow money and political power are everything is cancer.

The Feminist Plot Twist

Feminism is a term invented by a man, Charles Fourier, trying to enlist women to his utopian socialist political cause. To use people politically, one divides them up into competing identity groups, feeds their discontentment, tells them they would be better-if [insert simplistic political solution to complex issue] and then can pretty much steer the resulting angry mob where ever they need it to be.

The problem with political ideologies is that they externalize responsibility for our happiness. In other words, it is an idea that if only an external obstacle, like the patriarchy, were removed (through political action) then we would finally have that wonderful life we hoped for. This is not empowering. Perpetual victimhood or continual discontentment due to external circumstances is the most debilitating of human conditions.

Women are less happy today than they were in the ‘patriarchal’ past.

Furthermore, it is always false hope, intentionally so, because the ‘revolution’ must always be ongoing, the war against “toxic masculinity” or whatever scary new Boogeyman they come up with can’t end. Your happiness is always in the future and completely depends on the leaders of the movement. The solution will always be out there. It is a promise to keep you pulling the ideological cart they’ve concocted and never leads to your true empowerment.

There will always be things unfair or outside of our control. I’m not a woman, I’ll never be a woman, but I do know that all my complaints about height discrimination and the invisible barrier to my own success never got me anywhere. And truly, once disappointment festered and self-pity took root, I could’ve had all the opportunity, all the money or power imaginable, everything that I had ever craved thinking it would bring fulfillment and still not found a source of happiness.

Contentment is an inner state, a spiritual manifestation, and not a matter of external circumstances. The problem with feminism is the problem with any political ideology and that is that it will never bring fulfillment or happiness. Women have gained voting rights, a higher percentage of women graduated college than men, and yet are more unhappy than ever despite this century of feminist progress.

Could it be that a truly empowered person (male or female) is one that doesn’t measure their own success by how they compare to others?

Could it be that fulfillment comes from losing ourselves, our competing identities, in the service of others, and something greater than our gender?

Contentment is strength, giving is empowered

The feminist plot twist is that the ideology serves those who don’t truly want strong women and merely use discontentment for their own political gain. Women are simply another pawn to thrown at their ideological enemies and only appreciated when they’re useful to their socialist masters. It is worse than patriarchalism because it has convinced many women that their unique abilities are worthless and being more like a man will bring happiness. It has not and will never empower women.

Going From Point A To Point B — Ten Big Steps In the Right Direction

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When I prayed, a few years ago, for the impossible to be made possible, I could not have imagined where that simple statement of faith would take me.

My problem in life has never been lack of ideals or absence of ambition; I have long had a vision for life, a heart for people around the world and desire to serve God’s kingdom. However, knowing how to get from point A (my ideals) to point B (actualization) was always the problem.

The Servant Who Buried His Talent

Some can accomplish their goals, they are able to be very directional and focused. That was my older sister. She was top of her class, all-state in violin, followed through on her vision to be a doctor, is published for her research and has her own clinic. She married while in medical school and has four wonderful children

Me, on the other hand, I quit violin lessons in frustration after a month, struggled immensely trying to concentrate in school, and felt like an underachiever. I wanted to be an engineer. However, I lacked my own ideas where to go. So, I decided to apply to the same college my sister picked from her list.

But, after being accepted, ended up deferring rather than start classes in the fall. And, other than attend my sister’s graduation, I never did go to Elizabethtown College. I continued to work. My jobs (before truck driving) really did not really pay enough for me to get ahead. My dreams had been meput on hold. I felt like the servant who buried his talents and hated it—there seemed to be no answer as to how to rectify my situation.

Spiritual Awakening and New Hope Discovered

Finally, I had an epiphany, I discovered the Holy Spirit. Scripture, the writings of the apostle Paul in particular, became alive. This new understanding made me bolder. My guilt for underachieving dissipated. I now rested in God’s grace. I had worked through the death of Saniyah and found a new hope. I also paid off my house and was now financially secure. There was momentum in my life and it felt good.

Still, with my chronic dithering and endless indecision, I also felt as if I had lost a decade of my life. I was in my thirties and somehow missed my calling in the church, didn’t have a career that felt long-term and was unmarried. To fail at one out of those things was bad enough. But all three? It was unthinkable. Sure, I had life experience, I didn’t feel bound to my past failures either, and yet I still felt held back by an invisible wall.

It was in this midst of my trying that I cried out to be “made right” and began my journey of these past several years. I knew my limitations. My desire was to be taken beyond what held me back and be fully what I was supposed to be. I told God I would crawl across a wilderness of broken glass if need be. I asked for the impossible to be made possible.

These are the things that have transpired since then…

1) I rehabbed a torn ACL. One of the problems with truck driving is that it sedentary and I had gained some weight. I was trying to start an exercise program. But it is really difficult to establish a new habit when you are out on the road and your weekly schedule is always in flux.

Well, the same day I prayed for the impossible, I tore my ACL and was off work for six months so I could do physical therapy.

An answer to prayer?

Tearing my ACL, while terribly painful and a setback, was an opportunity for a change of lifestyle. I came out of physical therapy stronger than ever and made it a priority to continue the exercise routine. I can jump higher than I could at twenty and even after reinjuring that knee.

It seemed that God had answered. That gave confidence to further pursue impossibility and go further to find my missing piece…

2) I asked an ethnic Mennonite girl, in person. Part of the reason I’ve remained single so long is because of my crippling social anxieties. It is difficult to get a date if you are unable to approach the women whom you are most interested in getting to know better and attractive unmarried Mennonite women terrified me.

But I was determined not to make the mistake of not asking in person this time. And, after a conversation with her father (in which he gave me permission to ask, but told me flat out that a relationship with her was an “impossibility” in a follow-up message) I waited for that right time. It came one day when she told me she was going to be cleaning at the church.

I was shaking like a leaf when I got to the church door. I prayed she wouldn’t be startled. She was vacuuming in the sanctuary, she turned, spotted me outside, and smiled. It was a great relief that the conversation went as well as it did. I had expressed myself clumsily and still clearly enough. She was smiling and stepping in. Amazingly enough, she did not run, she said we could talk when things settled down for her and things had gone as well as one could expect.

Ultimately her Mennonite ideals made it impossible for her to love me enough to even have some ice cream and talk with me. But I had triumphed over my fears, I had pursued the impossibility and, in faith, rejecting human understanding and calculations. I was willing to be foolish in faith in a way that those who best embodied my Mennonite ideals could not (or were unwilling to) reciprocate.

3) I wrote a book. In the throes of her rejection a few weeks later, which included the words “You’re thirty years old in Milton,” I began writing. I began writing and eventually ended up with a letter fourteen pages long which explained my thoughts on faith, the development of romantic thoughts, and how, with faith to bind us in unity, our differences would actually make us stronger together.

After weeks and weeks of effort, of writing, rewriting and fine tuning, that letter was never sent. As hostile as she was acting towards me since our talk it seemed an act of futility and the letter still sits on my desk unsent. It wasn’t the right time, I decided, and would only drive her further away. No argument I could make, no matter how sincere or reasonable, would win her heart.

However, the writing of that letter convinced me of something and that is my ability to write. Armed with a new found confidence (and a new found ability to focus thanks to the miracle of an Adderall prescription) I began to write a book. The final product was over 17,000 words long, a book about faith, “Paradox of Faith” and remains unpublished in need of a final edit that has not been completed.

4) I started a blog. The book project led to the blog. It seemed like a good idea to refine my writing and articulation of thoughts. Interestingly enough, my first blogs seemed to attract more atheist and thinkers than my Mennonite religious peers. However, as I began to open up and be more honest about my own struggles, my Mennonite audience grew. The blogs hardest to share, because of the vulnerability they required, had the most significant response.

The most amazing part is that my message went viral amongst Mennonites *after* I left the denomination. It seems quite absurd, the whole time I had held my tongue about my deeper struggles (for fear of being rejected) and my moment of greatest acceptance came with my brutal honesty and with my letting go of my fears.

5) I bought my dream car. When I had asked the ethnic Mennonite, the impossibility, I was driving a mid-90’s Ford Contour that I had pieced together. It’s a long story why, I could certainly have afforded a better vehicle, cars had always been a passion of mine, but my mode of daily transportation really didn’t matter to me at this point and I had bigger things on my mind.

But, after her rejection, and on the advice of my mom, I decided to find a newer car. I started to search the used car lots and ended up with a brand new, 2014, Ford Focus. There truly is something special about being the first owner. This car was a quantum leap over the 90’s model trade-in. Practically speaking, this might have been my best purchase ever because it gets 40mpg and I got it for the same price as two year old used cars of the same model.

That wasn’t my dream car.

Years before this the current deacon of my former church, a youth advisor then, had given me a hard time about my modified (and R-title) 1992 Mercury Cougar. A conservative Mennonite can own farms and businesses worth well over a million dollars, a fleet of trucks, an airplane, a boat, without anyone raising an eyebrow. Yet, buy anything resembling a sports car and there will be disapproval.

My entire life I had curtailed my passions to please my Mennonite peers and live by their culturally conditioned ideals. I had believed that by playing by their rules they would have my back, they would lovingly help me to bear my burdens, and would truly treat me as a brother. As the betrayal became clear, upon realizing that my fears of their disapproval didn’t matter anymore, I was free and ordered a brand new 2016 Shelby GT350.

Still, I had some second thoughts after committing to the purchase. Like Judas, the money corrupted betrayer of Jesus, I questioned the excess, “Wouldn’t that be better spent on the poor?” But decided to follow through and to dedicate this ridiculous car to God, to hold it openly as we should all our possessions, to give rides to those who ask, and sell it as soon as that is required.

You would be amazed at the friendships and opportunities that opened up as a result of my buying that car and not caring so much what a small number of religious hypocrites thought. And, truth be told, not many Mennonites actually cared one way or another anyways, I was merely a prisoner of my own people-pleasing tendencies, and my conscience is clear before God.

6) I finally got the ‘right’ job. One of those things I begged of my Mennonite peers was a chance to be off the road. Some are cut out for solitude, those long hours alone in a truck cab, far away from home, but for me it was like solitary confinement, detrimental to my mental health, and started to lead to some bizarre thoughts. You really cannot know how much you need other people, even as background noise, until they are absent.

Perhaps my nagging paid off, perhaps as a consolation prize for pursuing the impossibility, or just chalk it up to God’s provision; but it was the father of the impossibility who mentioned my name to Titus (Titus, at the time, a Facebook friend, probably the result of my blogging, and not some I had met in person) who was seeking a replacement for himself as a truss designer.

Titus contacted me and the rest is history. So I owe my current job, in part, to the man who refused to recommend me to his daughter and must always give him credit for that. And, a bit over a year in, it truly is a great fit for my natural abilities. My work environment is wonderful and I couldn’t be happier. Finally my passion for engineering has found a place where it is useful.

7) I bought a rental. I really only wanted to live a small and safe life. That was my ideal as a Mennonite. And figured that once I paid my house off I would just build some savings as cushion and kick back a bit. However, a strange thing happened when I finally reached that point where I could just relax.

I owned my home outright. I owed not a dime on that unattainable dream car purchased a year before. I had given up on the Mennonite ideals (and delusions) that had kept me captivated. I could have done nothing besides maintain a lifestyle that had seemed ideal for most of my life. But somehow I ended up buying a cute little house and decided to be a landlord.

I’m not sure where that will lead. But, for the benefit of others, I hope some day to own some land and establish a business somewhere else.

Where, you might ask?

Well, that’s next…

8) I lived entirely for someone else’s good. Ecclesiastes does contain some timeless wisdom. One of them being that everything under the sun is, of itself, vanity and meaningless. I had everything I’ve ever wanted in life. I even had some ridiculous things besides. But lacked that one thing that mattered and that being the love that would last forever.

My vision of a composite of too different individuals in faith and love seemed to have failed. The Mennonite impossibility was engaged (actually, had just started dating, but that is essentially the same as engaged in the conservative Mennonite realm) and deep despair engulfed what had remained of my hopes in the denomination of my youth. I thought to end my miserable life.

Yet, while my faith internally had been extinguished, the purest part of it had survived externally in that seed of hope I planted in someone on the complete opposite side of the world. As I sank under the waves of doubt, she grabbed hold of my hand and refused to let me slip away into oblivion. I had no reason left in myself to live. However, I could not bear to see my precious bhest—the one who had been a little lost sheep when I found her—suffer on account of me.

She asked me to be strong for her and I decided then and there that I would live if only for her good. My intentions had not been romantic when we first started talking a year before and my Mennonite ideals would have prevented a relationship with her before then. But the true impossibility was being made possible in my heart. God had provided as promised.

9) I went around the world. I don’t have the millennial urge for experience. Yes, I wanted to help those in need around the world and was extremely attracted to the missionary zeal of the Mennonite ideal. But I lacked the impetus to do it on my own and hoped that this impossibility would be made possible through a Mennonite who, like my eldest sister, did have the ability to set her objectives and reach them.

Bhest, my precious bhest, gave me that clear direction of where I needed to go. I purchased my ticket in the spring of last year, brushed off my dusty passport, and planned this trip that would take me a full twelve timezones from home. And it was an amazing trip. It was absolutely wonderful to be embedded with her family during their holiday celebration a few months ago.

There is much that needs to be worked through. It is not easy to connect two lives on the literal opposite ends of the globe. My relationship with her means a permanent divorce with my Mennonite ideals. But, with God and faith, all things are possible and that was the promise that had set me on my way a few years ago.

I had my own ideas of what impossibility was and my version required other people to change. But God’s impossibility required me to change, it required me to sacrifice my own Mennonite ideals and seek what is greater faith and love. I had to choose between my Mennonite identity and what is truly Christian ideals.

10) I’ve gone beyond Mennonite. It wasn’t my own choice. I very much understand why many remain Mennonite. Who would leave their own version of Hobbiton in the Shire and second breakfasts for a true journey of faith and self-sacrificial love, right? But circumstances beyond my control have forced me to go beyond what I know, beyond my ethnic group, and find the Jesus beyond the Mennonite tomb.

Mennonite Ideals Had Entombed My Faith

Last Sunday, the Sunday of myrrh bearing women, was about the women who went the tomb to find Jesus. These women, unlike the male disciples that had fled, had remained faithful to Jesus even in his death and had gone to his grave to find him:

On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” (Luke 24:1‭-‬5 NIV)

Wow.

How profound.

My Mennonite ideals were built around my own understanding. Like those faithful women, I had entombed Jesus within my own assumptions about what is and is not possible. Even in my seeking after the impossibility I had been imprisoned by my own concepts of possibility and became extremely confused when my own limited understanding of faith died.

Many Mennonites are, likewise, prisoners to their own cultural ideals and confirmation bias. They, like Mary Magdelene, who initially didn’t recognize the resurrected Jesus, are so focused in on their own forms of devotion and so bound to their own cultural expectations, that they miss the obvious. They toil away, so faithful to their ideals, and are in denial of the greater things God has established for them by His grace.

I have traveled from point A to point B. It may not have been a straight path. I’ve spent too many years wandering the wilderness due to the limits of my own understanding and my anxieties. But the impossible becomes possible as soon we are willing to step out in faith and the promised land awaits those who do.

When is the last time you have aimed for the impossible, the truly impossible, and found God faithful in way you could not expected?