Without a beginning I am pouring the whole of my existence into the building of endings, while the cross and the resurrection declare that God is incessantly building beginnings from the collapse of endings.

My fear of endings too often blocks my hope of beginnings.

Hope is not some thin thing that is subject to the winds of fate, but it is crafted hard by the hands of God.

The cross unerringly exposes this stunningly marvelous and abruptly exquisite declaration that God will not let this single life of mine, with all of its grotesque maladies and pathetic filth pass into oblivion without unflinchingly declaring that my life carries a value worth the expenditure of His. And if I dare look upon the cross, I am utterly perplexed but wholly enraptured by the immensity of such a love as this.

Maybe I don’t have enough beginnings in my life because I fought against the endings that were about to birth those beginnings.

True peace cannot be found in a ‘place’. Rather, it is found in a Person who can be with you in any ‘place’.