JULY 5, 2025

   “Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty… I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life. I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well.” 

― Theodore Roosevelt

JOB 31-32

16“If I have denied the desires of the poor

or let the eyes of the widow grow weary,

17if I have kept my bread to myself,

not sharing it with the fatherless—

18but from my youth I reared them as a father would,

and from my birth I guided the widow—

19if I have seen anyone perishing for lack of clothing,

or the needy without garments,

20and their hearts did not bless me

for warming them with the fleece from my sheep,

21if I have raised my hand against the fatherless,

knowing that I had influence in court,

22then let my arm fall from the shoulder,

let it be broken off at the joint.

23For I dreaded destruction from God,

and for fear of his splendor I could not do such things.(31:16-23)

ACTS 13:1-23

9Then Saul, who was also called Paul, filled with the Holy Spirit, looked straight at Elymas and said, 10“You are a child of the devil and an enemy of everything that is right! You are full of all kinds of deceit and trickery. Will you never stop perverting the right ways of the Lord? 11Now the hand of the Lord is against you. You are going to be blind for a time, not even able to see the light of the sun.”

Immediately mist and darkness came over him, and he groped about, seeking someone to lead him by the hand. 12When the proconsul saw what had happened, he believed, for he was amazed at the teaching about the Lord.

JOURNAL 

There’s something holy about taking inventory—not just of our possessions, but of our soul. Our motives. Our actions. Job does this with brutal honesty, scanning through his life to see if he has failed the poor, the widow, the orphan. “If I denied the desires of the poor… if I kept my bread to myself… then let my arm fall from the shoulder.” (Job 31:16–22) He’s not pleading innocence with arrogance—he’s offering his life up for examination, knowing he lived with integrity even when it cost him.

That kind of righteousness isn’t soft. It’s forged. As Roosevelt once said, “Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty.” The best lives—the ones we remember—are the ones lived under fire, not in comfort. And Job’s story is a reminder that goodness doesn’t always look like reward… not in this world.

Job never learns why he suffers. He never sees the heavenly dialogue that sets his trial in motion. But what he does gain is even more profound—he meets the living God. And somehow, that encounter is enough.

In Acts 13, Paul—newly bold and renamed—confronts Elymas with uncompromising clarity: “You are a child of the devil… will you never stop perverting the right ways of the Lord?” (v.10) The result is blindness and the astonishment of a watching world. Paul doesn’t shrink back. He doesn’t flinch. The Spirit speaks, and he obeys. That’s what it means to be a servant of the Kingdom: courage in the face of darkness. Truth even when it costs.

But Paul also knew suffering deeply. In 2 Corinthians, he lists his life as “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, yet possessing everything.” (6:10) That paradox defines the life of the believer. We are not spared hardship. We are reshaped by it.

Today, I see how often I resist pain. How I instinctively wish for ease. But the reality is, ease has never made me better. It’s never humbled me, never made me more like Christ. Hardship, though? That’s where the real refining happens. That’s where I’m drawn to the presence of God—not because I deserve it, but because I’m desperate for it.

And still, I forget. I measure life by what I lack instead of what I’ve been given. I subtly carry this thread of resentment beneath my gratitude. It's not loud—but it’s there.

But when I stop and shift the lens—when I see my breath, my family, my calling, my very existence as a divine gift—everything changes. I want to steward the gift well. I want to live the hard life well.

Because the truth is: the easy life is overrated. But a difficult life, lived with God? That’s glory.

And Jesus said: “Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.” (John 14:23)

That’s what I want. Not an easy life. A holy one. One that ends with a home in Him.

23Jesus replied, “Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. 

 2 CORINTHIANS 6:3-10