With the new dynamics of communication comes new definitions of the relationships that develop on Facebook. I’m just bold enough to categorize them. Ironically, we are probably many or all of these to different members on our friends list
That shouldn’t surprise us: that’s how God designed it to work.
There’s one line, for me, that always seems as thin as a moment, at most a few minutes: the line between I can’t and I just did.
So, I had outrun my fears without rear view mirrors. I had hung my number on destiny, and it had stuck.
One of those plans prevents us from devolving into the freak show world we’d own if we always got our way. We’d probably blame God for that little wonderland, too.
The Christianity I now know conquered my formerly-prefabricated faith.
When I can’t figure out what I think about something, I start writing about it.
What if worshippers didn’t have the restraints of religion?
Is it that hard to think there’d be more than one way to communicate with the God of creativity, variety, and inspiration?
That sounds so liberal and lazy to my old churches—probably because they can’t measure it, codify it, cross it off of their OCD lists. I know; I used to be that checklist guy.
We smirked at the implication: America is vanilla.
It works. It’s fair. We’re all grown men, here. It’s your job to fill your own jock strap, not theirs.
Quite frankly, this is the best I idea I have ever had.
All that’s left to decide is galoshes or bare feet?
Almost every week, someone getting out of their car says, “You look like you love this,” or “You have way too much energy!”
I won’t deny it all might be crazy. It might not even be practical. Maybe, though, if you’ve read this far, it at least makes sense.
Sometimes, the people who successfully run ministries simply prove equal to their for-profit counterparts. That doesn’t make them prophets or wolves; it doesn’t brand them omniscient or Satanic. Any extra credibility proves man-added, not God-added.
“Yeah, dude. Jimmy earned his tip today. This is what I paid for,” I’d reply. “And I’m just happy to be here.”
I just don’t swallow much employee bilge about how business owners have it made. They wouldn’t have a job unless someone like me made one for them.
So, I don’t care what you drive. You can compensate with size or speed, sum or sculpted lines. But if it’s not a stick shift, you’re not driving.
They mean good. Their goals seem eternal. But I don’t remember Jesus persuading anyone, selling anyone. People were drawn to him.
There’s substance beyond the conquering, below the dreams crossed off life’s to-do list, above the totem pole carved for legacy.
It was the simplicity of silver with the showbiz of metallic, the rumble of a stampede with the slipperiness of satin sheets. It was a she, and she was a pending mistress.
It was created from a vacuum of holistic sales with people like me in mind.
This was what baptism was meant to be, how it was supposed to feel, what it was created to communicate. It’s designed to be one of the most monumental days in life, a watershed moment. For me—at least this time—it was.