The problem with confessing is that it requires us to face the decay inside. A pearly exterior doesn’t matter – how often we go to church or the amount of our charitable donations. Confession, like X-rays, looks for the evil rotting beneath the surface.
There is one area of my life that, despite my best intentions and efforts, usually ends in failure. It is the area of gardening. I rarely keep plants alive. Leafy greens, blooming bulbs and even the un-needy cacti die slow, painful deaths all around my house.
There is a purpose to our pain. Even when we can’t feel that or we don’t know it to be true, we can trust it.
I’m learning that faith is not the absence of questions, but choosing to believe when I don’t have all the answers.
“Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” — C.S. Lewis There inevitably comes a time in life where you will reach the ‘end of your rope’ — […]
I often hear complaints among my guy friends about the music at church. You know, the general ‘Jesus is my boyfriend’ type of music that so many of our churches are into. I admit, there’s only so many times I can sing ‘oh how he loves us’ and variations of […]