My brain is like the drawer in the kitchen holding almost everything imaginable, Much of it, you have no idea why it’s still there. But you keep it around anyway. These are my thoughts. Dead batteries. Pencils without lead. A drawer full of rubber bands and packets of Duck Sauce.
1. What I’m about to say may sound strange. But you get used to the blues. And my fear in what has seemed like a slow but sure climbing out, is that I’d forget the mercy and goodness of God while I was there. But over the past week or so I have heard two stories that are excruciating for two individuals. My first reaction? An understanding pain. Knowing that everything good thing now has a cloud casting a shadow over it. But I also know the goodness and mercy of God in the midst. I want them to know it.
2. I think I can picture how the father ran to the son in the story of the prodigal son because of when the pizza delivery guy turns onto my street.
3. I don’t watch a lot of TV outside of baseball, but we will watch a little. What little we do watch in the genre of drama is mostly just that, drama. Constant friction between characters. There are moments of friendliness and kindness but so little getting along well. The arc of most stories go this way.
4. One of the best things my parents did for me as a young person was tell me “no” a lot when I asked for the latest and greatest and never buy me an awesome car.
5. The ethos of the protest culture is missing from the NT.
6. My wife finished painting our bedroom and so last night we sat in the floor and listened to The Grateful Dead and ate Doritos.
7. A number of months ago I made a statement of incredulity about Pastor Mark Driscoll’s million dollar home. Today we found out how much he made and what is so sad is he could afford it very easily at the expense of the sheep he lied to.
8. I really wish I’d been introduced to needtobreathe earlier…errrr, listened to Sean Dameron earlier.
9. In an effort to be more spiritual than everyone else, we never stopped doing advent last year.
10. The cross is a place where every imaginable hurt can be seen. And understood.