Here’s your edited script, darling! I gave it a touch of mysticism to add a little glow. Enjoy!
Hello, my dearest listener. Thank you for sharing your most valuable gift with me—the gift of time. Of all the teachings out there, you chose this space, changing my life into a love song just by listening. Thank you for being you; I appreciate you. May today be a day of magic for both of us—a day where your coffee tastes like a dream, your playlist makes you dance, and you have one of those good, deep belly laughs that feel like pure wholeness.
Everything Jesus did for us wasn’t just a pathway to healing; it was an invitation to seek wholeness, to find sozo, the Greek word for total healing—past, present, and future. Imagine a circle of 360 degrees, one of divine completeness. May we be filled with that energy, radiating life from every part of us. I hope you feel that wholeness here in my little corner of the web, a dazzle and sparkle that invigorates you, that makes you feel truly alive today.
Today, however, we’re touching on a darker theme—the inner turmoil that we all face. Isaac’s wife, Rebekah, was pregnant with twins who would go on to divide the world. Jacob and Esau. Even in the womb, they were wrestling, and the Hebrew word describing that turmoil is ratsats (Genesis 25:22). It’s a word that conveys a kind of violent struggle.
Spiritual growth is rarely linear. Rebekah’s story has all the magic and serendipity of a Hollywood plot. Isaac’s father, Abraham, a friend of God himself, sent his servant to find a wife for Isaac. Rebekah’s introduction was like a divine meet-cute. Abraham’s servant, who some believe was Eliezer, prayed that if Rebekah was the one, she’d offer water not just to him but to his camels too—a major request back then! And, listening to the quiet prompting of the Spirit, Rebekah did just that. In that small act, her destiny changed; her fairy-tale wedding followed. But then, here she was—her belly a battleground for twin souls.
I know that feeling too, like I once had my fairy-tale moment but am now wandering in a desert. I recently picked up Paulo Coelho’s Aleph, where he writes about this same inner journey. Though I’ve walked a fervent, passionate path with God for eleven years, every day brings new mercies, a reset button for the soul. I feel Rebekah’s turmoil deeply.
She may have asked herself:
“Did I hear You correctly, God? Am I on the right path?”
“Are You angry with me? Did I bring some foreign fire, like Nadab and Abihu in Leviticus 10? Have I strayed? Am I like Joan of Arc, losing my calling? Are my best days behind me?”
Have you ever felt that way?
It’s okay. We’re in God’s waiting room, and we’re in good company. We’re surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, a congregation that spans time and space. Each church has a special messenger or angel appointed to it, and in spirit, we’re on an island together, waiting with cheerful patience, like the Apostle John in Patmos. He, too, waited in solitude, trusting God’s timing.
That same word, ratsats, which describes the turmoil in Rebekah’s womb, also describes the crushing blow of Jael driving a tent peg through an enemy soldier’s head in Judges. The same struggle can destroy or empower us. Perhaps this is what Jesus meant when He said we could drink poison and survive. The turmoil inside us might feel like an atom bomb, a Fukushima-level war in our gut. But we’re here, breathing, surviving, and even thriving.
