The Great Adventure

I started out this morning the way I have so many times before—chasing thoughts inside my head, scrolling through the endless to-do lists, trying to find my footing in a life that has not been easy. Every day feels like another trip around the circle, another attempt to make this day better than the last, another effort to hold things together.

But this morning was different.

I opened the Bible—not just out of routine, but out of desperate need—and I saw something staring back at me that I couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just words on a page, it was a mirror. It was as if God Himself had written down my story, and there I was: a prisoner in chains, trapped by fear, by grief, by weariness, by the unrelenting weight of the last year and a half.

And then came the truth—God’s grace has set me free.

I stopped. I breathed. And somewhere between the pages, the words struck me like a lightning bolt. I saw not just where I was, but what lay ahead. A horizon stretched out like a wide-open frontier. A voice rose in my heart, clear and strong: “Let’s go!”

And suddenly I remembered: this is not the end of the story. This isn’t a pit we will stay in forever. This is the beginning of a great adventure.

Because walking with Christ is not about staying safe or comfortable. It is not about simply surviving. It is about following Him into the unknown, into the places where only faith can carry you, into a life so full of His Spirit that it cannot be contained. It is about saddling up your horses, lifting your eyes, and stepping boldly into the horizon of His grace.

Yes, the road is rugged. Yes, the terrain is steep. A year and a half ago, when Tim collapsed, our journey took a sharp turn into a wilderness we never expected. We’ve walked through seizures, depression, loss, and grief that carved deep into our souls. We’ve sifted through ashes, carried burdens too heavy to name, and fought through nights where the darkness felt unbreakable.

But here’s the thing: even this is part of the adventure.

Because the Great Adventure isn’t about ease—it’s about transformation. It’s about discovering that God’s grace is not fragile. It does not give way under the weight of sorrow. It does not falter when the bottom falls out. It blazes trails through wilderness, makes rivers in deserts, and carves highways through mountains that looked impossible to cross.

When I think of it that way, my heart stirs again. My hope rises. Because this adventure is not one we walk alone. We follow a Leader who already knows the way, who already holds the map, who already conquered every valley of death and every shadow of despair. He is not only pointing us toward the horizon—He is walking right beside us into it.

And so, I hear Him say again: “Saddle up your horses. We’ve got a trail to blaze.”

This isn’t about looking back with regret. It isn’t about wishing for a life untouched by pain. It’s about believing that even the valleys will tell of His glory, even the ashes will bloom into beauty, even the tears will water seeds of joy. It’s about stepping forward with courage, because His grace makes the unknown glorious.

This is the life like no other.

Yes, it’s marked with struggle, with long nights, with prayers that feel unanswered—but it is also marked with the fingerprints of a God who never leaves, who keeps showing up, who keeps inviting us to trust Him with the next step.

And when I think of the road ahead, I no longer just see obstacles. I see possibilities. I see a horizon glowing with promise. I see a God who is not finished with Tim’s story, not finished with mine, not finished with us. I see a journey filled with places where His faithfulness will shine, where His strength will carry us, and where His glory will be revealed in ways we could not imagine.

So today, I choose to saddle up. To believe that His grace is enough for the climb. To trust that the glorious unknown is not something to fear, but something to embrace—because He is already there, waiting for us.

This, indeed, is The Great Adventure.

And the best part? It’s only just beginning.