Your mercy, O God, is always wider than we religious folks expect – or even want. Some of the early Jewish Christians had their doubts about including us Gentiles into your church. If you had not used the irascible Apostle Paul, who seemed to enjoy a good conflict, we Gentiles may never have made it in. But I tend to forget that. …
Lord Jesus, one day as you were walking along the road, a blind beggar called out to you for mercy. Luke doesn’t even give us his name. It’s as if his identity had been overtaken by his handicap. You did the strangest thing. You asked the man, “What do you want me to do for you?” It’s pretty obvious to me what a blind man would want, and I don’t even have your holy omniscience. So why did you ask?
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God, I am trying to figure out exactly why this promise is so hard to trust. Is it because I can’t see you as an old man in a green visor hovering over a heaven-sized ledger, trying to keep track of the years the swarming locusts have eaten? Let me make it easy. We can just say that there have been a lot. …
Really, Lord? You are paying attention even to my sighs? I believe that you heard me on those darkest of my nights, when great cries erupted confused and convulsing from my soul. And I keep telling you about my chronic anxieties, expecting you to listen like a physician who sits back, slowly rubs his glasses with a cloth, and nods sympathetically. …
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