Attention Word Slingers readers: Beginning December 11, 2019, all posts will be available at Thank you for reading Word Slingers!

Like so many Americans, I have an ache in my heart, a heavy one that’s sunk into my stomach where it churns and burns and refuses to be ignored.

Sleep can’t fix it. Food can’t fix it. Exercise can’t fix it. Shopping can’t fix it. Entertainment can’t fix it. Sex can’t fix it. A dose of the chemicals in my cabinet can’t fix it.

Only Jesus can.

As I sit here frozen, tears burning, begging Him to do just that, He assures me that He will.

Someday. In Heaven, if not here.

So, in the meantime, what?

Well, as a redeemed child of God, I have the comfort of knowing He’s with me, guiding me, growing me, and sustaining me in the midst of trouble, changing me through my suffering into the image of Jesus Christ for the good of His Kingdom. Of course, this promise only gives me comfort if I care more about God’s being glorified in my life than I care about my own well-being.

And that’s where the problem lies.

Right now, I just want to feel good. I want to feel safe. I want to feel happy.

Right now, I want so many things. For me. Oh, what a selfish child I am!

So what’s to be done?

I die to myself. Again.

With full confidence born of experience in God’s ability not only to save me through Jesus’ sacrifice and resurrection, but transform and use me by the power of His Holy Spirit for the advancement of His Kingdom—one that will far outlast the one we now live in—I empty my pockets of the selfish desire and ambition I’ve been collecting and offer my whole self at His altar, a living sacrifice, nothing kept, so nothing risked.

Only in this genuflected state of worship does my heart’s ache, ever with me, begin to ease. No longer a crippling pain, it becomes instead a blessed, if not wholly welcome, reminder that this world is not my home and I’ve a Kingdom to advance.

My spirit lifts to the reality of my Father’s presence. My eyes open to His activity around me. My ears prick to the sound of His voice. My body yearns to do His bidding, and while I certainly don’t crave or enjoy trouble, I can appreciate it for the opportunity to glorify the Father and spread the Gospel it affords.

I am at peace.

Not calm, but at peace. Not free of pain, but at peace. Not safe, but at peace. Not happy, but at peace.

Bottom line? Jesus is my fix. Now and forever, He truly is enough.