There’s a hard truth that I can’t seem to get around, no matter how I splice it. It’s this: you cannot fulfill your greatest potential if you stay inside your comfort zone.

It’s hard to accept because everything in my nature seeks comfort. I don’t know about you, but nothing inside of me screams let’s just go around the bend when the path is straight. For most of us, security is in our wiring, it’s our default auto-pilot.

Lately, I've been mulling over this topic of greatness. I've studied a few influential leaders of our time. I can't honestly say I know exactly what makes people great…it’s some combination of talent, grit, hard work, and chance. But I do know that in every case it involves going beyond the boundaries of comfort.

This is a truth I have to remind myself often, even if my instincts oppose it. By nature I'm wired to make me the center of everything—my own needs, desires, disappointments. This is the great temptation I’m faced with every morning.

In his poem, As The Ruins Fall, C.S. Lewis writes:

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.

I never had a selfless thought since I was born.

I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:

I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

He goes on to say how we cannot crawl outside of our skin and how we're self-imprisoned. Therein lies our problem: we are obsessed with ourselves and our own well-being.

Whether I’m basking in success or dealing with the hard blows of life, I want you to be caught in my vortex. I need you to play supporting actor to my lead. This is the disease of self.

My love.

I know it's been a difficult year for us. We've had many changes and challenges at our work. We've mourned and grieved with our dear friends over the passing of loved ones. And the plans we were making for our family were put on hold. Twice.

This wasn't what I had at all anticipated this time last year, when we were going into a new year with so much hope and cheer.

I can't tell you why trouble has met us. I can't pretend to know what lesson (if any) God wants to teach us. I suppose this is where, between human and divine wisdom, the line ends. The only place I know where to start is this: suffering is not unique to the human race, and it is certainly not for those who choose to follow Him. God has given so much goodness to us in our short years together. Like Job, should we say to ourselves to accept only the good, and not the bad?

Some people ask why I haven't been writing as much as I had in the past. Where are your books and short stories, or the blogs you used to write, they say. Time, I'd say, before my quick rejoinder—"Besides, who reads anymore, am I right?”

To tell you the truth, time was never a good ally. When you’re enjoying yourself, it always runs too quick. When you're using it as an excuse, it's lacking in its alibi. Cleverly dressed-up, surface deep. Because, as the saying goes, you make time for the things you love, and I sure spend a hell of a time scrolling through my Instagram.

If I'm being honest with myself, I was afraid. There's fear in being trite and sounding dumb. There's fear that I'll offend somebody somehow in this "politically correct" world. There's fear even in success. How will I come up with something better than before?