I have a quiver full of arrows.
I want to launch them against my enemy. Oh how I want to fight my own battles. There are no words for the fierce determination in me that wants to fly into a fight for life. I aim at statistics, respiratory numbers, research “profiles,” (I waited for a research opportunity for the first two years/none available, now I’ve had symptoms too long), brain impulses (make the arm move!!!), machines: nebulizers, cough assist, suction, wheelchairs, lifts, unanswered (what feels like) prayers (where is that target in the sky), lack of answers, tomorrow. . .
How does one target the trials of tomorrow?
Any threat and I pull out my bow and draw it way back to defend life as I know it.
Yet, I find in that I. . .
I do not trust the angle of my anchor point.
My bow arm strength, I do not trust .
I do not trust my bowstring cord to hold.
I brace, but do not trust the bend to attach the bowstring.
I do not trust my draw to be full and complete.
Fletching in flight, I do not trust the arch in air to make good on my aim.
In Kingdom thinking, I cannot defend the Life my Jesus died to save.