Nothing ever works out as I had hoped,
but everything always works out as I expected.
That’s probably why I felt so hurt. Here was hope. Here was me, hoping, that something in my life could work out right. That it wouldn’t have to be the difficult road that it’s always been, that just once, I could have some normalcy, some normal joy.
But sometimes, joy is better when it’s not normal, when it’s a long slog, when it’s unearthed and derived through long suffering. So yes, I suppose I should’ve seen it coming. But seeing it coming doesn’t change much. This life still hurts.
To put it another way, I hoped I was John, and it turns out I was Peter, but maybe it’s better to be Peter, even though he wept bitterly. Peter gets reinstated, and in humbling recognition of himself, he is exalted.
I pray that I may humbly do the same.