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I suspect Claude Monet would have painted lilies differently if he had been paddling through sedge against the current of the muddy Mississippi river in an inflatable kayak.
It’s not all up to me. Or to you, either. When the well is dry, someone else has a drop left to give. That drop is God incarnate, Word made flesh, help in the very time of trial.
Most everything happens slowly, especially change in our lives and in our churches. God has God’s own time and schedule. My job is to do my job and let God be God.
Complaint doesn’t have to be our default. I’m learning from friends that there is always reason to rejoice in the goodness of God, even when nothing seems to be going their way.
Jesus both lowers and elevates. That’s how the gospel works: the high are humbled and the lowly lifted so all stand on the same level.
Sometimes I think Christian life consists not so much in right thinking and good deeds, but in a flustered objection to divine humility and a daily consent to the unthinkable.
Prayer has never been, and prayer will never be, a substitute for accountability.
Lovey-dovey Jesus doesn’t do much for me. But a Jesus that’s holy and grumpy, empathetic and impatient, who has no time for my bull? I’ll follow him anywhere.
God, we give thanks for those who recognize our faults, and who embrace us and feed us anyway.
Is character something we can put on and cast off as easily as a thrift store find? Is there integrity to this fashion show? Let compassion, kindness, humility be our favorite outfits.