Tonight I was reading the account of Christ's Atonement and death for the first time in a long while. And, of course, I wept.
He was betrayed by friends.
He was condemned in court, having never sinned.
He was beaten and spit upon.
His precious and beautiful teachings were mocked.
He was humiliated.
And in the end, even God forsook Him.
And He went through this all for me.
When this man who suffered all of the worst pains imaginable promises that my tiny trials "shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good," I can believe Him.
When He says, "trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding," I know that I can do it because Christ did exactly that.
When He, who worked miracles and rose from the dead, assures me that "with God all things are possible," I know that He is telling the truth. Because He has been right there.
Even in my teeny-tiny struggles, the moments when I feel lost, He is always right by my side, just waiting for me to believe in His promises. Waiting for me to let Him lift me up.