An echo

I read somewhere that God gave Job trials, not tests. I understood and appreciated the difference immediately when I saw the words next to each other. Instead of seeming like an unfortunate flesh-and-bones man, Job became to me a sort of Olympian, a warrior given the gift of a hard-fought faith. Battle tested. I like to think of the difference between the two words lately, when the hole in the pit of my stomach weighs me down and my eyes betray me with their watering.

I never wanted it to be easy, I remind myself. I know that I am not able to accept achievement if there was no great sacrifice on my part for the attaining. I listen to my friends on our shared channel, several miles to the south, and when the heartache shortens my breath I thank God for the chance to embody humility. When I am confronted by another obstacle in my path, I am thankful for the lesson in patience and diligence. I remember, not always but more often now, that my job is not to prove myself to anyone at all; there are no tests to be passed. My job is simply to remain true to my self and my calling throughout the trials, having full confidence that I will come out the other side whole, hard-fought faith in hand for always.

There is only one way, and that is through the hill. And you never thought it would be easy.