We can’t be put right
until we are broken.
We can’t know joy
until we have visited sorrow.

In love the Father leads* his child into death.
If he shielded his beloved from all pain and bruising,
he’d have a self-absorbed infant
rather than a mature companion.

 
*(not “pushes” — not “forces” — not “throws” — not “abandons”
He goes first, and we often don’t follow.
He holds out his hand and says,
“Trust me!”)

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