“One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.”
JONAH
JOURNAL
When I read Jonah, I see myself far more often than I want to admit. When things do not work out the way I hoped, when disappointment hits, when life veers from my plans, there is a part of me that can slip into the same bitterness Jonah felt. His meltdown over the plant is almost comical, yet it exposes something real. His anger was never really about the plant. It was rooted in resentment and the belief that his way was better than God’s. Bitterness shrinks our perspective until even the smallest things feel catastrophic.
Revelation reminds me that the heart can harden when repentance is withheld. Mankind sees judgment, yet refuses to turn. And I recognize how easily I can drift into that same stubbornness when hurt or frustrated. I cling to my disappointment and lose sight of the bigger story God is writing.
That is why a scene like George Bailey running through Bedford Falls still chokes me up, no matter how many times I have watched it. Once he realizes the value of his life, everything else falls away. The scandals, the broken dreams, the ambitions he once clung to no longer matter. Being present with the people he loves becomes enough. It is a powerful truth about what actually gives life meaning.
And when I zoom out and look at my own life, that perspective becomes even clearer. Thirty two years ago, when Marci and I said yes to marriage, we had no idea what was ahead. We did not yet know the struggles we would walk through, the joy we would share, the dreams that would fall apart, the ones God would rebuild, or the children who would grow into men. Who would bring amazing women and now a granddaughter into our lives. When I look back now, the years that once felt heavy or confusing have become some of the most meaningful, because they shaped us. They carved out deeper love, deeper gratitude, and a deeper understanding of what a “wonderful life” truly is.
Dr. Seuss captured this beautifully when he reminded us that the things we obsess over are often the least important. True joy arrives without ribbons or tags or perfect circumstances. It comes in simple presence, simple faith, and the people God places in our lives.
So today, I find myself grateful. For clarity in seasons when I am disillusioned. For grace when I turn bitter. For the “wonderful life” I often fail to appreciate. For thirty two years of marriage that have proven again and again that God works in the struggle as much as in the celebration.
Like the father in Luke, God meets me while I am still far off. He runs toward me with compassion, not condemnation. He restores, He celebrates, and He reminds me that I am His.
And that is enough.
When I read Jonah, I see myself far more often than I want to admit. When things do not work out the way I hoped, when disappointment hits, when life veers from my plans, there is a part of me that can slip into the same bitterness Jonah felt. His meltdown over the plant is almost comical, yet it exposes something real. His anger was never really about the plant. It was rooted in resentment and the belief that his way was better than God’s. Bitterness shrinks our perspective until even the smallest things feel catastrophic.
Revelation reminds me that the heart can harden when repentance is withheld. Mankind sees judgment, yet refuses to turn. And I recognize how easily I can drift into that same stubbornness when hurt or frustrated. I cling to my disappointment and lose sight of the bigger story God is writing.
That is why a scene like George Bailey running through Bedford Falls still chokes me up, no matter how many times I have watched it. Once he realizes the value of his life, everything else falls away. The scandals, the broken dreams, the ambitions he once clung to no longer matter. Being present with the people he loves becomes enough. It is a powerful truth about what actually gives life meaning.
And when I zoom out and look at my own life, that perspective becomes even clearer. Thirty two years ago, when Marci and I said yes to marriage, we had no idea what was ahead. We did not yet know the struggles we would walk through, the joy we would share, the dreams that would fall apart, the ones God would rebuild, or the children who would grow into men. Who would bring amazing women and now a granddaughter into our lives. When I look back now, the years that once felt heavy or confusing have become some of the most meaningful, because they shaped us. They carved out deeper love, deeper gratitude, and a deeper understanding of what a “wonderful life” truly is.
Dr. Seuss captured this beautifully when he reminded us that the things we obsess over are often the least important. True joy arrives without ribbons or tags or perfect circumstances. It comes in simple presence, simple faith, and the people God places in our lives.
So today, I find myself grateful. For clarity in seasons when I am disillusioned. For grace when I turn bitter. For the “wonderful life” I often fail to appreciate. For thirty two years of marriage that have proven again and again that God works in the struggle as much as in the celebration.
Like the father in Luke, God meets me while I am still far off. He runs toward me with compassion, not condemnation. He restores, He celebrates, and He reminds me that I am His.
And that is enough.
“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
21“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
22“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.
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