This is an experiment for a class I’m teaching Feb 1: The inaugural 30-Day YWG Story Course at Facebook. Since I’m teaching it, I figured I’d try a taste of my own medicine… Just 5 minutes together, uninterrupted, in succession. It seems like a luxury. A luxury I shouldn’t crave and yearn for like homemade lemonade in the desert. I
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It’s still early. That’s true. A true sentence. Regardless of how little there is left of the day, it’s still early. There’s time yet to write the daily clutch of words. Despite the fact that my brain is doing its usual whirring with all the things to get done, the manuscripts needing edits, consult calls to make, talks and articles
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Is longing enough? You don’t often believe so. And maybe too unbelieving, too afraid to admit, you strive to feel something you don’t, something real again of this living water, and a love for his life. Something that may not have happened exactly, though you do remember and it persists. Its truth seems to have expanded the bowl, beyond your
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“If I dismiss the ordinary — waiting for the special, the extreme, the extraordinary to happen — I may just miss my life.…To allow ourselves to spend afternoons watching dancers rehearse, or sit on a stone wall and watch the sunset, or spend the whole weekend rereading Chekhov stories—to know that we are doing what we’re supposed to be doing
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“I love, therefore I am vulnerable.” ― Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art Yesterday morning, as the children’s pastor shared from Psalm 119, I felt tears well up. She simply spoke the uncanny truth I’d been slowly realizing for months: “The word of God,” she said, “…is a miracle.” It was the weight of the statement,
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