Deep in the yellow wood I squint and stare, trying to see the ends of all the roads diverging here, as if what I see now is what will be. But what will be—who knows? I only know the many twists and turns I've stumbled through quite blindly in this wood, and though I'm bruised and weary, I know too that all the ways Christ's led me have been good. Why shouldn't I expect the same from each of these roads now, despite their unknown ends? Or are those ends a mystery after all? The outcome's certain, though the path may bend. My canopy's his mercy. Trusting him, no road I take can fail to bring me home.
“It turns out, in this Wilderness, anything we trust Christ with—anything we give to him—will transform us, that is, turn us into simple servants and guests of the Mercy offered in His gospel. Anything we trust Him with will turn us into who we are, into people who are headed somewhere, headed toward the future provided by Mercy.” (John Andrew Bryant, A Quiet Mind to Suffer With)
Amen, amen.