But the end wasn't to come that easily. A battle was raging in my heart. Why? Why do I have to face this all over again? Haven't I don't enough of this kind of work?
"Father, please! I don't want this anymore!"
But wait. Is it the job that I dislike so much? No.
I ponder . . .
I know it's true that He always asks me to do the things that I will be happiest doing. The responsibility He has given me is a precious gift. And I don't want it? Oh, yes, I want that. But there's still something. It finally begins to dawn. . . .
Self. Fear. Doubts.
That was it. Things that I had chosen to hold onto were the very things that were hurting me so much.
I do want freedom--not from what he has given me, but from the things that the devil throws in to turn my eyes from Him.
"I'm ready, Father. Ready for the freedom that You have so patiently waited to give."