Mountains, miracles, and Monday papers

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Categorized as  faith,  impossible,  miracles,  mountains,  mustard seeds, dreams

Of mountains.  Of miracles.  Of Monday papers.  Of great, big dreams and a time tomove.  That’s what’s on my mind this morning.

It’s column day today.  Driving to the coffee shop in the early hours, I gave thanks for that simple grace.  How far we’d come.

Who would’ve thought, all those years ago in composition class, that this girl with a love for words would one day offer them up for an entire community?  That this girl whose love of newspapers began when she was just able to read, would see them in black and white, feel them on her fingers week after week after week?

I never quite get over it, walking past a news stand, knowing that the syllables, the sentences, the stories, the heart that pulses just there on page three, are mine.  Are ours.  And now.

It’s time for the next stage.  Time for the next step.  Time to tackle the next part of the dream.  Time to take the next mountain, ’cause that’s just what it is.

Sitting there at that round corner table, head bent over the mug, steam rising, I wrote it out in my journal.  Wrote about the dream, using words like “impossible” and “ridiculous.”  Words like “outrageous” and “difficult.”

“It’s an outrageous dream, a difficult task at best.  But I feel the nudge.  I hear the whisper.  I know the voice. It’s time to move.  Jordan lies before, and the Promised Land just past that.

“I am one.  I am small, but the Lord Himself goes before me.  The Lord Himself will be with me.  I will not be afraid.  I will not be discouraged.”

I want more papers.  A lot more papers, and I’m gearing up to go after them.

It’s true that the industry’s down.  It’s true that papers are hurting.  It’s true that it’s a long shot.  But I know this – there’s One Who specializes in long shots.  The One Who brought down a giant using a young shepherd boy and his slingshot is the same One that said, “You can make that mountain move with a mustard seed of faith.”

That’s what I’m counting on.  That’s Who I’m trusting.  It’s not, after all, about the size of the seed.  It’s about the object of the faith; the One Who receives the seed.

How about you?  Got a mountain before you?  Got a difficult goal, an impossible dream?  Then you’re ripe for a miracle.

You just bring that little mustard seed you’ve got (I see it there in your hand) and offer it up in faith, believing in the One Who delights in making mountains move.  Let’s just see what happens, shall we?

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