Crystal Kershaw

Purpose helps us move from the darkness of disease, trauma, loss, and heartache into the warm sun of God’s plan. It reminds us that each day we live God has accounted for. He keeps the plan, which involves people and perseverance, and leads us into something far deeper when we follow it, joy.

Musing about my hoary alyssum struggle reminds me of a recent conversation with a dear counselee. She fought a fierce battle to overcome a troublesome pattern of sin in her life. It was a significant struggle, but she fought hard with the weapons of truth, humility, and faith.

Crosses are places in our lives where we can give God great glory. Despite the pain and hardship they represent, we should keep on looking for them, picking them up, and through Christ, learning to carry them. Embedded deep in the texture of those crosses is life and hope.

I often refer to it in counseling sessions, prayers, and conversations with friends and family members. The “peace that passes understanding” (Phil. 4:7) is Christian-speak that flows freely through my heart and mouth. Yet, it has always mystified me. How can peace be present without understanding? How can calm come through chaos, or serenity shine through sorrow?

I often refer to it in counseling sessions, prayers, and conversations with friends and family members. The “peace that passes understanding” (Phil. 4:7) is Christian-speak that flows freely through my heart and mouth. Yet, it has always mystified me. How can peace be present without understanding? How can calm come through chaos, or serenity shine through sorrow?

If we were to diagram the love Christ showed through his incarnational appearance in a manger and horrific death, we would draw a direct line from him to us. We are the direct object of his incredible descent into humanity, and his humiliation on a cross.

Often in life, I’m confronted by an immediate need. It’s the need to know Christ’s presence–the need to trust him in a hard place.

It was a cute piece–a small wooden platter with a cross-stitched inset. The visual featured a bright bowl of fruit, highlighting a heartwarming psalm quoted beneath it.

As I examine my heart, I have to admit I’ve discriminated against a particular group of people. I disrespected them based on input I received from others–what I was taught and read, not personal experience.

It was a rough session–they’ve been rough lately.  The woman on the other side of the screen is caught in an intense struggle with insurmountable health issues.  They affect her in countless ways, in each of her roles as a young wife, mother, friend, and daughter.  They shatter her sense of self, her personal security, and her view of God’s providence.  She’s tried everything she can think of to improve her situation, to no avail. The mystery of her struggle confounds every doctor and specialist she’s seen.

I am married to a mechanical engineer– a preventive maintenance specialist who assesses the health of motor engines, ancillary systems, and production lines. It’s all about the process.