Sometimes the only accomplishment you can point to is your own blood and guts spilled everywhere. Sometimes the death that you die for Christ feels just like that, death. All the joys and pleasures are passed up for the promise of the greater reward. Sometimes amongst the fleeting and numbered victories lies the knowing that one day the sky will split and our work here will be done. For this we bleed and cry and die. For this our portion, Christ himself, we die daily. Bring it on. Put me on the cross. I gladly lay down my life. Come with me…