Day 200

Amos 6–7 | Matthew 17

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Two hundred days.

That’s how long I’ve been writing these posts—mostly late at night after the girls fall asleep. After the lights go off, the house quiets down, and my thoughts finally get a word in. Sometimes in the morning, when sleep wins but the Spirit still presses in.

But tonight—on Day 200—I write in the wake of another long drive to San Francisco.

The news was expected: continued swelling means continued waiting. Surgery number three delayed until November. A different road than we hoped. Still no finish line in sight.

And yet, I smiled in that exam room.

Not because of the delay.

But because I asked Dr. Buntic whether I could start golfing again, and he said, “Absolutely.”

Then he turned to Talacey, grinned, and added, “But no housework or dishwashing yet. He’s definitely not cleared for that.”

And then he winked at her.

It was hilarious.

But it felt like mercy.

A needed mercy.

When the Mountaintop Is Meant to Move You

Matthew 17 opens with a vision that would leave anyone breathless.

Jesus—radiant in glory.

Moses and Elijah—standing beside Him.

A voice from heaven thundering, “This is my beloved Son… listen to Him.”

It’s dazzling. Overwhelming. Sacred.

But it only lasts a moment.

Because Jesus walks back down.

Back into need.

Back into confusion.

Back into a world that still groans for healing.

The mountaintop wasn’t the finish line.

It was fuel for the valley.

When Encouragement Echoes in the Valley

Over the past few weeks, I’ve received messages I didn’t know I needed.

Carol wrote, “What God continues to do through you is remarkable. I know the investment the writing takes, but it just keeps getting more powerful. We’re all grateful to be growing alongside you.”

Denise messaged, “Your writings are so insightful.”

Oralia asked, “Have you ever thought that your writing—your testimony—could be the answer to someone’s prayers?”

Robin said, “You have such an incredible gift for writing. Thanks for all you share.”

Keith emailed, “God is using your journey and insights to speak to me as I go through my own storm.”

Judy wrote, “Tears are streaming from my eyes as I read your post.”

And Kris? “Write a book already!”

I don’t share these to spotlight myself.

I share them to spotlight God’s faithfulness.

Because encouragement doesn’t always arrive when you feel strong.

Sometimes it finds you in the middle of the mess.

And that’s when it means the most.

Because that’s when you remember: God is still using you.

Even when the road is long.

Even when the outcome isn’t clear.

Even when the only thing you can do… is follow.

The Standard Is Still Jesus

In Amos 7, God shows the prophet a plumb line—a way to measure whether His people are aligned with Him.

Not with comfort.

Not with culture.

Not with comparison.

With Him.

And in Matthew 17, the Father doesn’t just say, “Look at Him.”

He says, “Listen to Him.”

Because glory isn’t given so we can camp on the mountain.

It’s given so we can walk back down—changed.

Strengthened. Sent.

And sometimes—just like today—that means sitting in hours of traffic with your wife, trusting that even this road matters.

Not because you accomplished something on that road.

But because you walked it with Him.

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Lord, thank You for the mountain—but don’t let me love the moment more than the mission. Thank You for glory—but don’t let me forget the valley is where You heal. Thank You for every word of encouragement—but let Your voice be loudest. Keep me walking. Keep me listening. And let even the delayed things, the swollen things, the long-road things become sacred ground with You. Amen.