I finished the book of John today (which is not actually today as in this very day but today as in when I started writing this post, which was probably a week ago now. Because I have a finishing problem. And a distraction problem. And a sick kid problem. But I digress….). I’d started reading it well before Easter. Not even the entire book, mind you--just the part at the end leading up to the crucifixion.
I’ve learned over the years to be gentle with myself in some areas, though, and reading Scripture is one of them. The Holy Spirit isn’t tethered to the dusty Bible on my nightstand, but rather, He’s alive in my heart and is with me always, whether or not I succeed in reading the Word daily. I’m not always capable of living life how I think it should be lived under ideal circumstances, but what I am capable of doing is living the actual life that’s right in front of me, for better or worse.
But I’ve gotten caught up in the proverbial blank page of my writing life since the beginning of the year, and I don’t like it....
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