I know you expect this. I even expect it of myself. But I seldom bring you my first fruits. More often, you get the money, time, and energy that I have left over after paying everyone else. This is a tragic irony, since all of the fruit comes from you. No, it is not really irony. It’s theft. …
Lord Jesus, you have an amazing gift for cutting away all of my excuses and rationalizations. I like to hang out in the realm of nuance and ambiguity because that is where it is easiest to excuse my sins. “Well, this is just a small thing,” I reassure myself. “I don’t have a quarter for the meter, but I can probably get back to the car before the meter maid catches me.” …
O Lord, as you know, I am pretty attentive to the whirling circumstances around me. You could, and probably would, say that I am attentive to the point of anxiety. But I don’t watch myself very closely. …
As you know, Lord, I keep assuming hope is something I have to find. I look at the circumstances, size up the possibilities, and make the choice about whether to be hopeful or despairing. There are always reasons to despair, and so I am seldom very hopeful. …
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