Therapy is painful—but I keep returning. Each session pushes my wrist to its limits, leaving me squirming and struggling to endure the sharpest pain. Yet I trust my therapist’s skill and purpose. Pain, though excruciating, becomes the pathway to healing, restoration, and eventual joy. Choosing discomfort may seem counterintuitive, but the results make it worth every moment.

When I was a kid, my church did a Living Christmas Tree program each Christmas season. The event was very much a product of 1980s church culture. It featured a massive steel-framed Christmas tree that rose from the base of the stage to inches from the high ceiling. The tree was constructed to support ascending rows of choir members who stood behind the tree's greenery with only their heads and shoulders exposed. The large choir would perform from the tree, while drama skits and small musical ensembles would perform on stages to the left and right of the tree. The event featured a full orchestra and the spectacle of lights on the tree. I loved it and looked forward to it each year. Over the years, there were common themes that were used year after year. One of those was a narration that made a distinction between this tree and that tree.