Way. Truth. Life.

He came to the end of his day the way a boxer reaches the end of a fight: weary, dazed, broken, battered, defeated. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Not anymore.

He dragged himself into the living room, yearning to escape into the TV for an hour before enduring another fruitless night of sleep. The cross, a Christmas gift he'd picked out for himself, hung on the wall over the couch. A reminder.

He died for me, he thought, but I'm still a mess.

Was he doing something wrong? In fact, he was doing so much more right these days, but he still struggled to keep his head above water. Focus escaped him. Motivation a whisper that rarely caught his ear. Peace? Joy? He waited to be filled, but mostly felt empty.

"Why do I still feel like this?" he asked the cross, quietly enough to not disturb his sleeping family upstairs. "I've tried to give my life to you, I've tried to trust you, I've tried to surrender. I've given up so much to follow you, and yet I am still lost. Why haven't You found me yet?"

The cross didn't answer. It never did.

He sat down, numb. He wanted a drink, or something stronger, just to get out of his head, but he now knew that wasn't an answer. To any question. Instead, he looked inward, closing his eyes.

"Lord," he whispered, "I just need some clarity. I need stillness of mind. Peace, Lord, I pray for peace. It's what I've wanted all along. Why is peace so elusive?" He paused, trying to corral his thoughts. Focus.

"Lord, I know you hear me, I know you see my struggles. I don't know why I struggle, but I know I don't need to know. I'm struggling for a reason, as hard as that can be to accept sometimes. You have a plan for me, and your plan is perfect. My plans are selfish and feeble and flawed, but you are generous and powerful and flawless."

The clouds in his head lifted a bit, the knot in his chest loosening in turn.

"I still have so long to go, Lord, this journey that won't end until my time in this world ends. I thank you for the ways you've changed me, I thank you for the ways you are still changing me, and I thank you for the ways you will one day change me. I ask that you would continue teaching me how to trust you completely, how to submit wholly to your will and rest in your promises."

He paused a bit longer this time, listening in the silence of the room.

"Lord, protect my family tonight, bring them each closer to you. Please fill this home with your presence. Let us know that you're near. I thank you for your love, your grace, and your forgiveness.

"Amen."

He opened his eyes, once more seeing his dimly lit living room. The TV remote sat on the ottoman, dozens of buttons that could provide instant distraction and noise.

He sighed and leaned forward, the cross still hanging on the wall behind him. The shows on his DVR could wait another night. It was time for bed and, he hoped, a good night's sleep.