The Gravitational Pull of Mercy
In that way, I guess, I connect to David. Like the psalmist, my sin ironically drives me toward him and spiritual closeness.
In that way, I guess, I connect to David. Like the psalmist, my sin ironically drives me toward him and spiritual closeness.
But it was like I was trying to excuse my choice of not being a pastor, a thought many preachers’ sons probably struggle to extinguish. I enjoy design and writing. I just assumed growing up that the higher echelon of Christians all had talents they had to abandon to be vocational ministers.
For now, I’ll keep finding the packs on interstates and beltways, where mob rule protects our 80-85-90-do-I-hear-95 fixes.
I don’t think I understand sacrifice or truly want to, but I’m probably closer than I was before today.
And while it’s true that God doesn’t compare hearts by numbers, he does covet more from us than compliance to an artificial Christian brand. He called the Pharisee’s on it all the time, even dropped the “whited sepulchers” hammer on them.
So I need not only to conquer the strongholds—the big challenges—but also to vanquish the small hurdles. Probably the latter first.
I’ve been on a journey . . . I’m not sure for how long. Well, it’s been more like wandering in the wilderness, albeit an artificially made one, while God made me and the future ready for a promising horizon.