Jesus

God Speaks Hope Without Speaking – Do You Have Ears To Hear?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

We look at the Son and see the God who cannot be seen. The Message

She spoke in metaphor at the prayer meeting.

Kind of like Jesus did.

His disciples came and asked [Jesus], “Why do you use parables when you talk to the people?” Ancient Text

Holy Spirit reached through the metaphor, through her words, and touched my heart.

Her metaphor, her prayer, was one of the ways Jesus spoke to me recently without using words.

“Coming to Jesus, with our box of “need” is like going to the chiropractor,” she began.

She didn’t know I had been to the chiropractor the day before. I had even forgotten, until that moment, that this chiropractor was a gift from God to me. A gift I forgot to be thankful for.

But I was attentive to the metaphor, tracking.

“Yes, we come to God with our problems just as we come to a chiropractor.” I concurred with her words as they flowed from her mouth, ministering to me.

Some of her words penetrated a deeper level of my heart, further than words can go.

“Do any of you feel that your life is a clock and you are constantly late? And not just by minutes but by decades?” she continued.

I had just poured out my heart to God that week, alone in the car, tears flowing, “Lord, time is a monster that terrifies me, renders me immobile!” I cried out.

This was a depth of my heart that lay buried beneath more pressing items: making dinner for the family, paying the bills, helping the struggling one, being busy, busy, doing the life stuff.

What do I do with the angst that lies buried within, at a depth no scuba diver, and no words can plummet?

Under it all, lay this monster, most often asleep, but threatening to awaken just before I fell asleep at night. Would I wake this monster when I fell asleep? In the depths of night, would this depth of my heart surface and waken me, demanding conversation again?

I came as a patient, God as my chiropractor. “I can’t help you adjust me,” I say to Jesus. “I bring only my pain. Adjust me. Realign me. I surrender to your unusual ways.”

The chiropractor bent my body and slammed herself against my leg, dropped a part of the table beneath me on purpose, and I walked out straighter, with less pain.

Like a healing chiropractor, God wants to adjust the depth of my fears, to re-align my thinking to His ways, to help me run without so much pain on this journey of life.

Yes, God can pick me up again, like the toddler that has fallen, and say, “Good job, keep walking in that direction.”

He is the Head and we are the body. We can grow up healthy in God only as he nourishes us. The Message

Re-aligning my thinking to the truth that Jesus completed his work on earth in only three years, that He multiplied the meager child’s lunch to feed a stadium, that God created the universe in one breath, that God lives outside of time is the healing oil that soothes my anxious heart, today.

May each one of us come to You, Holy Spirit, with the tangled mess of our fears that we have no words for. May You, like the faithful chiropractor, realign our thinking to flow from Your thoughts of the direction You want for our lives.

May we walk in joy, again today, because our thinking has been re-aligned, put under submission, to the great chiropractor of our hearts, You. May You, without using words, heal even what we don’t have words to express.

We surrender the outcome of our lives to You and choose to walk in obedience along the path You lead us on. You’ve got this.

May we run and dance in freedom, again, on this day, we pray.

Jesus Longs To Guide You Through Pain (And Hold Your Hand)

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

I hobbled around, one hand on my back, bent over and twisted.

I did too much at my new CrossFit class, and I could feel the muscles in my lower back clenching, pushing me into a C-shape. Maybe this strain will get better on its own? I was in denial, but my body kept slowly bending me over.

The name of my chiropractor popped into my head. Oh right! But we were leaving on holiday. I didn’t have time. I continued to pack, holding my aching back. But again, and again her name went through my head that morning, as I was thinking of other things.

This is one of the ways God speaks to me. He reminds me, again and again.

I don’t always notice the first time.

So I called the chiropractor, the one I hadn’t seen in five months, the one I had somehow forgotten about after a season of happy back. She surprisingly had one cancellation that morning, which worked perfectly before we left on holiday.

Her touch was like the hand of God. I don’t mean to be overly dramatic but that is what it felt like to me. My body obeyed her and re-aligned. My posture was upright. I (carefully) went about my day and in only several days, instead of several months, I was running again.

“Yeah, I don’t even know how I found her,” I mentioned to my husband offhandedly, as I distractedly finished my lunch. I had forgotten.

The next morning, my prayer group reminded me.

Years earlier, a friend had some trouble with her foot. She mentioned the name of the person who is now my chiropractor.

Her, Jesus seemed to say.

My friend was reluctant to give me her contact information. “I have no idea what she’s like concerning backs,” she cautioned.

Her, Jesus repeated.

I was in a phase of rejecting all therapy.

Everything I tried, every physiotherapist, chiropractor, masseuse, and others had made me worse. Much worse. I was afraid to try anyone else. “I’ll just have to solve this on my own,” I had thought.

But with a nudge from God, I made the call.

I was tense and nervous in her office that first day.

But she became the gift God gave to me.

I could run faster, complete the triathlon, and horse around with the kids again sooner, much sooner.

(There is Another and another who helped my back a ton as well, but those are different stories).

God walked with me in my pain and His Spirit guided me to a person who used her skills to allow God’s healing through my body.

And I am thankful for her.

And I have remembered, now, to be thankful to God for her, too.

If I dwell by the farthest oceans, even there your hand will guide me. Ancient Text

Need some advice?

Ask!

God, you long to give out treasures, but we so infrequently come to You to receive. Help us, Jesus, to run to You as a small child in distress runs to their father, longing for an embrace. May we receive Your love, and may Your hand guide us ever more often to the gifts You long to pour out upon us, as a good father loves to give good gifts to his children. May we trust You more deeply with our headaches, heartaches, body aches, and spiritual aches.

Shhh . . . Do You Hear Jesus Speaking To You In A New Way?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

Jesus, while He was walking the earth as a human, said a LOT without speaking.

Consider the following example:

Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone was moved away from the entrance. She ran at once to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, gasping for breath. . . Peter and the other disciple left immediately for the tomb. . . Simon Peter . . .entered the tomb, observed the linen cloths lying there, and the kerchief used to cover his head not lying with the linen cloths but separate, neatly folded by itself. The Message

We scratch our heads. Our ears are lying on the floor. We can’t hear Jesus speaking through the bolded words above! You must be making stuff up!

We read the newspaper instead and remain locked in fear. We call this freedom.

Jesus stands next to us, holding out a shovel. Are we willing to dig for some gold? Our freedom is at stake. His words are purposed to help us soar.

And so we rub our eyes from our sleepy state, reluctantly receive the shovel He holds out to us, and try with one hand to hold up one ear to our head so it won’t fall off again. “What exactly are You trying to say?”, we ask, yawning, digging awkwardly with the other hand.

In Jewish culture in the time of Jesus, folding up a napkin (translated above as “kerchief”) after a meal was a way of saying “I am finished.”

We hold onto our ear, about to fall off again. “Uh-huh,” we murmur. Yes, it was finished at the resurrection. We know this.

HANG ON before your ears drop to the floor again and you go back to sleep.

Jesus said “It is finished” to His confused followers because they hadn’t seen the end of The Jesus Film yet. They didn’t know how things would pan out.

But He speaks to US through the folded napkin too, as we apply what He said many years ago to our lives today.

Don’t drop your ear yet!

He says:

I speak in ways that you don’t expect, without words, sometimes. Do you want to hear me? If so, get out your shovel, hold up one of your ears to your head, and dig, friend, dig.

I offer freedom.

Do you want My gifts?

Jesus, may we hold both ears up to our head, eventually, as we learn to listen and to dig into Your words. May you answer our every question. May we come to another with our questions, and may they help us to dig, or may they offer the gold they have already found from studying Your life.

May many, many more of us learn that we have wings.

As you listen to this song, consider holding one of your ears up to your head and asking Jesus to touch your heart with His love. May you receive exactly what you need to fully satisfy your soul, whether He speaks with or without words to you today. May your heart be filled with His love for you, we pray.

A way Jesus recently spoke without using words will be discussed in future posts.

Does Your Life Inspire Others To Soar?

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

Here’s a picture taken just after I completed a triathlon.

I’m the one in the hat. You can also tell which one is me because I’m the one that is “fit looking”. Just sayin’. Well, at least I should say that I’m the one that looks “fitter than I was”. Whatever.

Yes! We are wearing matching shirts! I completed this triathlon as a memorial for my dad, who passed away not long ago, and who inspired us all in physical strength by completing many triathlons.

Leaders inspire others by their examples.

. . . lead them by your own good example says the ancient text

How will our lives inspire others who are watching us, even though we don’t see them looking our way? By our example. Are you awake to who God is calling you to become?

In the last post, we talked about how God often wants to wake us up to His vision for our lives, if our ears are screwed on tight enough to hear Him.

God may be blowing open your expectations of what He can do through your life if you sense any of the following:

1) God is whispering about something you know you could never accomplish on your own strength.

2) God seems to envelop you in love, even for just a moment, or to touch your heart with His invisible love. With Him as the wind, holding up your wings, He can move mountains.

3) God is trying to wake you. He stands next to your bedside, gently nudging you. He picked up your ears off the floor. Will you put them on?

What does He see when He looks at you? Ask Him! If you don’t hear His gentle whisper, continue reading The Message. Every word read helps put a bit more glue on our ears, ever ready to fall off.

How may God be calling you to set an example for others of a life well lived?

Abba, continue to speak in ways that we can finally grasp the truth that You have much, much bigger plans for our lives than we do, with You at the helm, guiding us for Your kingdom purposes. Help us to be able to hear You more clearly, we pray. Keep our ears screwed on tight.

God Encourages Us To Complete The Triathlon?

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

While my back still felt like an old lady’s, when I had to yell up at people so they could hear me as I spoke to their waist, hunched over, I announced I would do a triathlon.

“Well . . . if I can walk, I will do a triathlon,” I clarified.

This annoying back problem has GOT to get better someday, right?

And it did get better, praise be to God.

It didn’t help that the little kid I was playing with at the family dinner jumped on my back in a fit of fun.

My community gathered around me that same night and cared for me, lifting me to God in prayer.

My back felt better after that night than it had in a long, long time.

So, yup, time to do a triathlon.

I didn’t have as much time to train as I had intended, but I thought the bike part was about 10 km?

I was shocked as I picked up my bib the day before the race to learn that the bike part was 20 km. Could my back even handle being on a bike that long?

My husband coached me, like a parent coaching a small child. I needed some direction. “Now remember,” he said slowly, “You have your goals in the wrong order.” He coached me by holding up a finger for each goal. “The most important goal is not to get hurt,” he said. I had relegated that goal to Goal #3. He was right.

But in the pool, I felt God nudging me to swim faster (!). What does God care about an obscure triathlon where a bunch of fairly fit middle-aged people do their exercises?

(There were actually some young and very fit people there who definitely upped the cool factor of the race. Just sayin’. I’m sure I would have beaten John in the race to Jesus’ tomb too. Just sayin’. Not that that matters OF COURSE, but for those who are interested, I thought you should know).

Then I realized that God was speaking to me during this triathlon because God cares about everything we do. We can’t relegate Jesus to an hour on Sunday. Everything is an opportunity to grow closer to Him, if we can find our ears and screw them on.

Maybe there was a lesson here too, while completing this triathlon, that He wanted to nail through my thick skull, a lesson that wouldn’t sink into my brain any other way, perhaps.

And I went further and faster than I thought I could.

. . . THAN I THOUGHT I COULD.

How else are we limiting ourselves with what God wants to do through us?

What race is God asking you to enter that is too far for you to go, or that you are too slow to finish?

Are your ears lying on the floor, too?

Samuel took his flask of oil and anointed [David, the shepherd boy, as king], with his brothers standing around, watching. The Spirit of God entered David like a rush of wind, God vitally empowering him for the rest of his life. The Message

Ways that God may be trying to wake us, trying to translate His words into a language we can understand, trying to encourage us to pick up our ears, screw them on, and listen to His vision for our lives will be discussed in the next post.

Is Holy Spirit Attempting to Waken You?

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

Yeah, so I might have had a small touch of fear now and then over my lifetime.

OK, let’s admit it. Fear is paralyzing me, my constant friend.

Jesus walks over to me, crouches in the corner next to me, and offers me His arm. It is time to stand. I rise on quaking legs.

He is asking me to run. He hangs back, crouching down low to whisper in my ear as I hide in the fetal position. Time to run, His eyes bid. He gazes in the direction He wants me to travel.

I pull the covers over my head. I am trying to go back to sleep.

Wake, wake, dear one. He whispers. He is shaking me, gently. Wake up.

And so the decision rests in my heart. Will I get up, rub my half-seeing eyes and stand into the new thing that God is calling me to?

Or will I put in earplugs to distance myself from the sound of Jesus’ voice and go back to sleep?

The choice is mine. The choice is yours. What is your heart’s reply?

One day He asked me to run into a cooking adventure. The result freed my daughter from expectations around various diagnoses that tried to pin her down.

One day He threw me into the deep end of the spiritual swimming pool. I awoke more fully with the splash of water and have been swimming more deeply, in a spiritual sense, since that day.

One day He asked me to homeschool, again, another year. This was many years after I thought I would change my apron for a real job, one that actually pays money in exchange for work. A job that is recognized culturally as actually “doing” something worthwhile.

I left my career identity by the side of the road and followed Jesus down a narrower path to homeschool longer, my inexperienced feet aching from the journey of following Him.

I had wanted to go back to sleep then, too. To rest in the comforting mold of what regular people do. Go to work. Put their kids in school.

And yet, maybe He is using our unappreciated homeschooling journeys to bring hope to society.

He woke me again this morning, early. Write, my dear one, write, He whispered.

Are you the one that I am writing for?

Are you, like me, also beginning to wake up?

In your drowsy state, do you sense He is trying to waken you, too?

Are you being awakened to pour more of your life into your children, to grow, grow, grow in hearing His voice, to a creative endeavour, too?

To something else?

If so, welcome to the adventure of a lifetime of following Jesus!

He walks ahead of you, bidding you to follow.

Will you trust Him enough to join Him on His journey for your life?

If we can leave our fear behind, the journey is exhilarating.

This is what God says . . . “Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it? The Message

Holy Spirit, help us to be able to hear You when You call us to a new thing. May we be brave enough to follow You. After a few moments of quietly listening for the voice of God as the song below plays, ask Jesus, “What direction do you want me to travel in this next season? What needs to be left behind?”

Yes, I Was Mentored By A Random Internet Stranger!?

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

An eagle showed up in my life.

She was drawing out the vile illness from my heart with her questions, green goo surfacing, and I was astonished at the sticky mess dripping off my clothes.

“Yuck! How do you clean up this stuff?” I asked, panicking.

“Why don’t I call you, and we can talk about this some time?” she offered.

My mind swirled.

She was a random internet connection.

Should I open my heart, and the great vulnerability within to a random internet stranger? What was I thinking???

Well, I’ll start with how it all began.

I had a recurring dream for a couple of years. The title of the book that was recommended to me by Amazon matched the title of the dream.

(I didn’t say that this story would be easy to swallow. I only promised the truth).

And no, I had never followed the random inner longings of a dream before.

I discovered Heidi Baker, a missionary in Mozambique through this book, and then was connected with a handful of people who met online weekly to pray about this common spiritual burning that it sensed God was putting on all of our hearts.

From within that group, one of those ladies started a Facebook group, which I joined regularly.

It was in one of those groups that I met Aja, who was now probing my heart with her questions. Goo from the depths that had not surfaced before was now spotting my clothes and I come back to my story – do I meet one-on-one with Aja, or not?

I met with my pastor, spouse, and a handful of trusted friends over iced coffees one sunny summer afternoon to ask their advice.

“I am heading down a spiritual rabbit trail that I don’t know if I will emerge from,” I began.

I shared what we spoke about, the journey that it seemed God was guiding with his large invisible palm, squishing me together with this new group, as so many lumps of clay, joined in the spirit.

I listened to both their wise cautions and their encouragement.

And I met with Aja.

Open your heart, I felt God whispering during that first call, as I spoke with her.

I was surprised.

You’re safe here, He continued to encourage.

And beyond the obvious safeguards that we use by engaging the big ol’ gray matter in the head, such as by asking if I am being encouraged to: (1) read my bible? (2) connect more deeply with my local community (?) (3) connect with the Lord?

Beyond those questions, which were answered with a yes . . .

. . . I was growing spiritually.

My plumage was starting to fill out.

She sat in the chair between Jesus and me and facilitated our conversation so my own quiet times could bear more fruit.

And I was just about ready to fly, by the grace of Jesus.

Is it time for you to choose a random internet, or in-person connection to soar with, too?

On a COMPLETELY UNRELATED topic, we are hosting a regular online listening prayer and connection time soon.

Details will be posted soon HERE.

Rejoice in Your Fear

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

The newspaper is like the genie in the bottle, a monster emerging from the words. It stares down at me, huge and menacing. My teeth quake as I glance at it, trembling. I am afraid.

I am left in the corner, quaking, the monster guarding me, bidding that I say right where I am, crouched in the corner. It is watching for when it is safe for me to come out.

But it never is. Another scare. Another news item. One crisis after another. I crouch and hide, obedient to my fear.

But when I attempt to rise on quaking legs, and when I stand, holding, as a crutch, the arm of the One standing next to me, I feel a bit stronger. But my head still spins.

Come, He seems to bid. Take just one step, my child. One step and then another. I focus on Him, who steadies me when I walk.

His face becomes a bit clearer. The arm that I rest on feels a bit more solid, and less a figment of my imagination.

And my fear, which once dominated me, returns to rest deep within the newspaper, where it belongs. It is always lurking inside there, and within the words of some others that I meet.

But I realize now that fear is too strong for me. I cannot tame it. But it can be supplanted by my intense, prolonged, focus on the One who is not afraid.

And then I walk. And then I run. And then I give a cup of water to the thirsty. And then I wash the smelly feet of the hurting stranger, the one who, also, has been terrorized into a shell of herself by her fear.

“Come,” I bid. “There is One who will help you to walk. Let’s take the first step, together, sister, brother. I will show you how to lean on His arm a bit more often, a bit more of your full body weight supported by Him the next time you fall. Don’t let go.”

And as we tread upon our fear, He is raising up a great army. He passes you the weapons that are needed for this great war: love, compassion, humility, dependence, servitude.

Only the weak are strong. And thus, my fear has strengthened me, as I have been pushed, ever more into the loving arms of My Father, who holds me as I cry. Let’s not miss the opportunity that our fear points us toward.

Don’t panic. I’m with you. The Message

Let’s rejoice in our fear because we have been pushed, more often and more deeply, into His arms of comfort. What are you afraid of, sister, brother? Come and be comforted in the arms of the greatest comforter, so that you too may be a comfort to others with the comfort you have received.

What is one step that the Father may want you to take today, to live out of love, and no longer out of fear? How can your fear strengthen you, as you remember that it is the weak that are actually strong?

Don’t Laugh At Me Yet

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

No. It isn’t funny. We concur with you. We empathize. We feel your pain. We’ve been there. This is NOT funny……. (yet). We turn away when the snicker rises up. We don’t want you to see the guffaw. Not YET. Yet is the keyword.

My daughter is a minor chemist. She has mixed and remade so many versions of slime that she could create her own YouTube channel if she wanted to (in fact, she does and likely will). She was thrilled with the quality and texture of her most recent recipe, bounding down the stairs to lay her magnificent creation before my unappreciative eyes.

“Oh yes, it’s more stretchy,” I expressed, grasping to appreciate homemade slime. She couldn’t hear my lack of astonishment. She was a momma and this new batch of slime was her baby. No one, nothing, could tempt her to see a lack of wonder towards her beloved. This I could understand.

But it was unbelievably annoying when later that morning, after using our bathroom, I automatically rested my hand where the hand pump soap sits, and … nothing. The soap was gone. I actually thought I was going mad. I couldn’t find my teaspoon measure (again) later in the day. Random things seem to appear from thin air in bizarre locations, and others disappear with no rhyme or reason.

So it wasn’t funny. Yet. Can we not even keep soap in the bathroom, this hygienic essential? What is wrong with our household? I stumbled to the coffee machine in an effort to increase brain cells, to seek comfort from another cup of java. How is it that we don’t even have what we need to function at the most basic of levels? I asked myself.

I was discouraged. My identity was somehow wrapped up in a $6 bottle of hand soap. If I’m the one directing this ship, together with my hardworking husband, why is there another hole in the boat?

Coffee wasn’t solving my problem. But laughter did. Unentangling my identity from the bottle of hand soap helped. Waiting for the YET, which I could sense somehow, was coming, was the relief that I needed.

So, of course, our daughter used the family bathroom hand soap to make her most recent batch of glorious slime. Why wouldn’t she? And yes, she did put it . . . somewhere. Now where was it?

Here is the YET. I am NOT actually incapable of having enough of the basic essentials available to avoid a major health hazard. I am homeschooling. And my daughter is the inventor. Of COURSE, we may not have soap to wash our hands every now and then.

Relating this story to a friend later that day was long enough for the YET to arrive. Pull my hair out, question my ability to safely homeschool my children a few hours ago. And now it’s funny.

Because our little inventor is ridiculous. And so am I. Who ties their self-worth to the state of organization of their home? We need each other, her and I. God has plans for us both.

So she returned the soap. I had a laugh with my friend, who relayed a similar homeschooling mishap, and we went on with storytime together. And I am learning again, that because I am ridiculous, and because I live with those who are ridiculous, funny stuff happens.

I see your lips twitching the next time I share my frustrating homeschooling mishap. It’s math time. Has anyone seen all of our pencils? You look away, trying not to burst into laughter in my face. Not yet.

But you are the ones chosen by God . . . chosen to be a holy people … from nothing to something, from rejected to accepted. The Message‬‬

Do you sometimes throw away your identity as a child of God and link your self-worth, instead, to a $6 bottle of hand soap, or other expectation for yourself as Captain of the ship? Are you frantically bailing out a sinking ship, or is this just not funny (yet)?

Pretend You Don’t See My Mess, Please – I Prefer Bondage

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

Jealousy. Green sticky goo must come out of me somehow. I am jealous. I hide my hands behind my back. A cover-up; I will pray for you. But behind my back the goo leaks. No one notices until the puddle of goo forms at my feet.

I stand back in shock. That must be someone else’s jealousy I am standing in! I take a step to the left in horror, trying to kick the green goo off my feet, legs, trying to be free. My friend smiles at me compassionately. She understands that the green goo couldn’t possibly be mine. I am HER friend! She stands in a puddle of her own goo. I pretend not to notice.

And so the mutual self-denial is edifying. Let’s bow our heads, hold hands in unity, and pray for the one that we esteem so highly. We are spiritual. We aren’t jealous. But when we are done, our hearts pump specks of charcoal throughout our bodies. Death has touched our hearts. We won’t speak of our sin, and so our sin holds us captive.

But in my room at night, where no one can see, I cry out to God in desperation. God, look at the state of my heart! It is singed with death! I try to pray, but my prayers go up in smoke. Can you help me? Name it, He speaks, gently. Name why your heart is smoldering now, a smoking log and not a blazing fire.

Looking down in shame, I speak. “I am jealous.” And the Lord dances. He dances with joy, pulling me out of my despair to join Him. Well done, he whispers softly into my ear. And I am joyful. Like a toddler covered in mud, who made a mess of their surroundings, I am free. The mud washes off, easily.

My mess does not define me. I am defined by Him, the truth, because I speak the truth. I see myself through His eyes, forgiven, when I am honest with Him, myself, others. Not overly self-deprecating. Not hiding. Just honest.

I bring my problems, like a difficult math question to my Father, for help. “Why am I jealous?” I ask Him. He points to weeds in the garden of my heart that I have neglected to uproot, yes, but He also shows me that there is green goo in the air, everywhere in our culture. I breathed it in, and it took root, simply because from grade school, we compare the one to the other. An unhealthy system has infected me as well.

And it doesn’t matter, actually, why I am ill, or how I contributed to the growth of the ugly mess. The doctor has come, to innoculate me with His love. And I can dance again.

And so the next time that my friend and I stand in pools of our own making of green sticky goo, I can get out the broom, the one that Jesus gave me. I can offer to show my friend how Jesus helped me clean up my life, to sweep away the goo. Do you want to borrow the broom? Holding the broom with Him, you and He can sweep away your goo, too. And He will dance with joy, as your heart is revived, refined a little more. And we are free to soar.

We don’t have to hide.

If we claim that we’re free of sin, we’re only fooling ourselves. A claim like that is errant nonsense. On the other hand, if we admit our sins—simply come clean about them—he won’t let us down; he’ll be true to himself. He’ll forgive our sins and purge us of all wrongdoing. The Message

Consider asking God if there is any strange goo at your feet that you don’t want to see. Holy Spirit, set us free, we pray. May we be courageous enough to see ourselves the way we really are, so that our eyes can begin to see with clarity the vision You have for our futures, as we connect our lives to You, we pray.