Jesus died for me.
I've said this all my life. I believe it, mostly.
As a survivor, I deal with things like C-PTSD, health problems, mental and emotional messes, but the struggle I worry about most is my spiritual health. The others are all survivable. Losing my spiritual health isn't.
Jesus died for everyone. He didn't make any exceptions. He never said, "I died for everyone, except Laurel." Never. He offers the gift freely to everyone, including me.
Not everyone will accept the gift. Their choice. They were given that, too. The right to choose.
Many have died for their faith. Now, in the Middle East, Christians are being crucified, beheaded, sold into slavery, because they refuse to renounce their faith.
I ask myself if I would be so brave, so steadfast. I want to believe I am. It has not been required of me.
What has been required of me is to live for my faith.
Am I willing to live for my faith?
I look at the scale and see the weight climb. Am I living for my faith?
I'm ashamed to admit I'm allowing the stress and other temporary problems in my life to reign over me, to hold more importance than my desire to live for Jesus.
I have moments, of course, when I allow my light to shine, when I choose Jesus over my weaknesses.
I'm an imperfect Christian.
I'm learning to live for Jesus. I make mistakes, and yes, Jesus gave me the gift of forgiveness, too. My Savior paved the way for me, taught the path to choose, and led by example. He provided the way to change my life, if I'll only follow.
I'm recommitting to not only being willing to die for Jesus but willingly living for Jesus.