"And wisdom will honor everyone who will learn to listen, to love, and to pray and discern and to do the right thing even when it burns...A man is weak, but the spirit yearns to keep on course from the bow to the stern, and throw overboard every selfish concern that tries to work for what can’t be earned."

When I first heard "Beyond the Blue" by Josh Garrels, I had no idea it was the answer I had been waiting for, for so long.

There is a battle. There is an innate and incredible craving of our flesh. This flesh is as described by John Piper in his article "The War Within: Flesh vs. Spirit," as "...the ego which feels an emptiness and uses the resources in its own power to try to fill it."

In my own experience, I saw and felt my own loneliness. And so, my heart was drawn towards what I believed to be best for me. I saw the outward, shiny and beautiful appearance of what my flesh believed to be best. But as Garrels describes, my Spirit yearned to keep a steady course.

I cannot describe the battle. Every day, with every slit of sunshine that comes through our spirit and our flesh are at war.

Galatians 5:16-18 tells us, "But I say, walk by the Spirit, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you would. But if you are led by the Spirit you are not under the law."

It will burn to do what is right. It will burn to lose what you had, and to fall into the questionable unknown. I think of Dylan Thomas' poem, “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night,” as he writes, "Do not go gentle into that good night//Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

It will hurt because our flesh is being broken, being silenced and stamped out. It will hurt because you are raging against what comes so natural, and seems so lovely to you. But for lack of better words, the spirit knows and understands the peace of what is "beyond the blue." The Spirit knows of what is yet to come. And so, we must let go.

We are not given complete clarity for a reason. We see with foggy lenses, and reach with wavering hands. Perhaps this is where faith grows-- holding out, extending further and further. I find it kind of beautiful how even though we cannot quite see what comes to us in the near future, we know within our spirits, we see with our "soul eyes," that the wait and the tears were worth it. We feel an oncoming peace, if you will.

Perhaps joy, perhaps peace, is found in fighting against, and throwing off what we are so easily enticed to. Perhaps this joy is found through 2 a.m. tears, through questioning mornings and doubtful nights. Because we are handed and told to swallow every pill that this shattered world has to offer (Romans 12:2). We are told that our peace comes in giving in, in saying "yes" to ourselves.

But maybe, our true joy is found in what is deeper, in what is greater, for what is more precious and what must be fought for above all things.