I know what I am supposed to do, but I wiggle out of it. And very quickly my life falls into a state of disarray.
It can be awfully hard to see how my convictions separate me from God. It can be awfully easy to believe terribly untrue things.
Several hours with my shero last week taught me something new about Psalm 134.
Thank you for the free gift of grace because I cannot get it for myself.
This verse does NOT mean only Christians go to heaven because the gospel of John makes little or no difference between this life and the afterlife.
At 10:15 every Sunday morning, a streak of blond hair comes tearing down the aisle. My nephew.
I'm trying to make it a spiritual exercise by praying my way through the news instead of simply gorging on it. Praying in this way may not change the situation, but, as they say, it changes me.
When I told a new spiritual director my secret, it seemed like such a fatal flaw for a ministry student that I could hardly speak it aloud. "Half the time," I whispered, "I don't even believe in God."
Who am I to question my worthiness when I've already been declared worthy by God?
We may not always know that we're encouraging each other, but heaven knows. The hovering angels see.