Why is it so hard for us to see what this world truly is?
I have been placed in this arena to heal, to strengthen my love, and to free my soul from this dying world.
When I am discharged from this hospital, may I enter the new world healed and ready to receive all of God’s love.
How, with all of these blessings, could I not be healed? I wonder.
Yet my fallen nature leads me to stumble.
It reaches for blessings and clutches them when received.
It cries: give me the simple things—what I can see, hear, taste, and feel. Give me what feels good.
This screams my flesh.
But the part of me that loves says: No. Let it all go. Let me die here now if it means I live in Christ.
If only I could be so lucky as to announce my love as I die.
Only then might my love be worthy of the love of Christ.
I am here to become a pauper—humbled to receive, and ready to give away.
None of this is mine.
It has been given to me for my healing, both the good and the bad.
It is all a blessing.
The goodness fills my heart with gratitude and joy.
The bad adds a burden to my soul, but my love is strengthened as I turn to God to lift it up.
My existence here is a paradox.
My heart is equally filled with joy and with sorrow.
As the Physician illumines the dark corners of my soul, I rejoice in my purification, but I weep at the sight of my filth.
I look at those around me who, too, are diseased and suffering.
My heart aches for those who suffer in vain, but is flooded with joy for those who suffer for the sake of love.
I have searched endlessly for purpose, and I have found it in Truth.
What is the point of life? To love.
But why? Because the witness of Love is the greatest existence.