More Than a Story.

I walk through the large doors of Darrell Kruger over and over again each week. The same method. Upstairs, to really work, or to whisper effectively. The down, to enjoy some sights and meet with some usual friends. It’s become a pattern of my time; something of consistency. I notice things that have changed, and we all like to pretend that this is social time. Slowly, days go on, and we’re more and more jaded. Walking into the doors isn’t a complete blessing in our minds, and being with many people isn’t the most fun thing to do.

I find myself walking on water that I’ve made flat myself. I find myself molding the world the way I would like it to be, listening less and less to my heart, as it whispers, “Go this way, then that.” But I want to be with you all. But I know I cannot. I don’t know how to manage this. Your set of eyes and what you see, followed by the ache that flows from your eyes. I’m not sure what to do with the world as it starts to spin even faster. I stop every once and a while and when I am asked how I am, I’m not sure how to answer that question.

Indication: Something’s wrong.

So I retreat. I walk into the small box that I call my dorm home, to be reminded that I won’t find a thing in the heart of others that will solve anything. Nothing but something that reminds me that I need Jesus more. It’s not that I wanted to find it, but it’s that that’s all we seek for. I realize that I am not your best friend, nor am I yours. You belong to Jesus, just as I do, for sure.

“Love is patient. Love is kind,” plays softly within me.

This is all new, Abba, and there’s no way I know what to do. But, I’m willing to listen; I won’t run away. So please, lead me. Guide whatever the way.

Please make this more than simply my story.

…because love wins.

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