It started out as just a bump in the lawn, a bit of rock that I barely clipped with the mower. (For the record, I'm glad I listened to my wife who suggested I leave last year's old dinged-up blades on for the first couple mows. My new blades are still pristine-sharp). That telltale "ding" as I made the pass was all I needed to make me decide to finally unearth that offending stone. So, shovel in hand, I attacked the sod. Wow! This thing is bigger than I expected. Retrieving my big prybar, I went at it again. Half an hour later, I had loosened up a small boulder about two feet in diameter, sunk so deeply in the hole that try as I might, I could not pry out. It's still there, but it won't be tomorrow night.
There was a time when I looked at life's problems as doors God was shutting, moving me in a different direction. I reasoned that if it was God's will, he would open doors, part the Red Sea, and smooth the way. Obstacles were indications that God was leading in a different direction. I no longer believe that to be true. The size of the obstacle is only indicative of the size of the goal. God doesn't always smooth the way; instead, he uses the obstacles to teach us persistence and skills that wouldn't be developed in any other way. That rock in my lawn is an obstacle. It is not yielding easily. But that doesn't mean it should stay there. It has to go, and it will go. Obstacles are meant to be overcome, and I shall. It'll just take a bit more time, a few more tools, and perhaps some help from another set of hands. But that rock doesn't belong there, and I will win. And not just at rocks. At life, too.