What’s it like to hear the whole world sing your praise? Only God knows. But be awed by the fact that He does.
Forty-two weeks? In one book of the Bible? For close to an entire year? Yes, yes, and yes. But why?
If left to make the decision again, you should know I’d be turning in my application and renting a moving truck before you finish reading this sentence.
More than likely, you and I are the products of the quiet faithfulness of a generation of men and women whose names the world will never know.
Often, in lieu of your local church becoming the best contextualized version of itself, God is fashioning its parts into a whole that looks more like Him.
It doesn’t get better than the gospel. There isn’t a higher up, further down, deeper, wider experience to be had in the Christian life.
More often than not, the ability to rightly frame our suffering is a matter of our forgetfulness over against our ability to remember the Lord and His goodness.
The ones we stand in the midst of on a Sunday morning are the flesh and blood set around us as a perpetual help in remembering the flesh torn and the blood shed for us.
Where does the wayward mind truly go when it comes time to pray? It’s hard to say.
Oh, that ministers-to-be might give themselves to the time and to the process of becoming the man God will use to shepherd his people.