I’m pondering how often we refuse to move forward. We get rutted and trapped in the past, clinging to the thing that destroyed the life we wanted or imagined.
There is a time to mourn and weep, but we’ve turned it into a lifestyle, and “poor me” has become an idol. Self is exalted over God. We aren’t hearing His voice nor hearing His call because we are too busy listening to our own complaints and whines. I’ve been there, done that–sat and stewed and mourned. And the longer I stewed in my stew, the stinkier my stew (and me) became. Ugh.