I have an easier time believing the gospel for others than for myself. By the gospel, I don't mean simply the abstract idea of Jesus' death and resurrection for the salvation of sinners (like me); I mean the deep reality of God's love in my life, of His delight in me and desire for me. Believing that changes the day, the very meaning of things, how I live with others and with myself. It changes me by making me aware that I am changed and that I am being changed. It's hope that comes of knowing the limitlessness of God's love and power, joined in all He does.
Why is the simple truth so hard to embrace for myself? I say that not in condemnation, but rather in the sense of a child who faintly grasps the foolishness of doubting his parents' love (a love which, unlike too many earthly parents, is faithful and true and boundless) but questions nonetheless.
Instead of fading, fog is gathering with the sunrise. Need to get moving.