Paige Thomas DeHart

Thank You, God, for the privilege of suffering. How sweet the pain; and how great the anticipation of its corresponding joy. For yes, God, my pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses my understanding; and I understand this: what good is salt if it has lost its savor? Thank You for the seasoning. Thank You for the texture. Thank You for giving me the ability to sit in serenity through the seasons of my grief; to wait in peace through the violent blows of the threshing floor. I stand before You; naked and not ashamed; vulnerable and bleeding, but not afraid. How sweet the taste of sadness, God, when contrasted to the ecstasy of just one touch of Your seamless garment. 

Unmasked Excerpt