Something happened this week that shouldn’t have bothered me at all but it did. I should have been happy, or at least indifferent, but instead I was angry, jealous, and a little hurt.
I should be past this.
I shouldn’t care any more.
The preacher told me today, “You can’t stay here.” Moses told the people they had circled the mountain long enough. It was time to move on.
It’s not that it was a bad mountain.
It just wasn’t their mountain.
It’s not that a vision for the future disregards or denigrates the past. It’s just that I can’t stay in the past. God is moving me forward.
I have to stop comparing. I have to stop living by someone else’s yard stick. I have to plow ahead and not look back.
I have to break through this paralysis. I have to open myself up to hurt and be hurt. I have to pull down the walls of protection I’ve erected.
That’s what the preacher told me.
It was all stuff I’ve said to others before.
It’s all stuff I’ve head before.
It’s all stuff I’ve tried before.
"As yet I am as strong this day as I was in the day that Moses sent me: as my strength was then, even so is my strength now, for war, both to go out, and to come in. Now therefore give me this mountain, whereof the LORD spake in that day; for thou heardest in that day how the Anakims were there, and that the cities were great and fenced: if so be the LORD will be with me, then I shall be able to drive them out, as the LORD said." Joshua 14.11-12