—Jesus (John 16:12)
Funny how many questions I have for God, yet forget this. He has so much to tell me, so much, yet I'm not ready to hear. I am impatient with Him in all the wrong ways, wondering why He doesn't give me explanations when He longs to give me Himself instead. Which is better? The answer is clear, as is my foolishness. As His life is born in me, then I will be prepared to hear more of what He has to say. Until then, the very substance of me is too weak, too fragile, too temporal to bear up under the weight of His glory.
Lord, make me a man who can hear what You have to tell me.
Good time at Victrola listening to Casey MacGill and His Blue 4 with taci, a nice cap to a reasonably productive work day. The feeling of actually making headway is all too rare. Trying to begin a habit or two that might perpetuate it (hopefully the fact of headway, as well as the feeling). Drinking coffee this late may not be the height of wisdom, particularly with my already-poor sleeping patterns, but tomorrow is my day off, so the time of my waking hours matters little.
Preparation happens when it happens, as it happens. God is God. Hope in Him.
There was the best scent in the air as I walked home tonight. I wish I could share it.