Grieved
If there's one discipline that makes Jesus-walking work. Get up early. That for me. Must do – and write some then, just not get so engrossed. Or at least read-up the readings. Writing all later, I'm garbled-up and rushing to get-done. To write what? I dunno? I'm losing heart to just – make up stuff. Want to have something to say.
And stuff style. The answer to nothing. The need to be angry but rightly. Get God. Something of this heart of love. If I think of say, Syria – am I bothered? Does it matter? Need God to help me know and even feel. But self crowds this out. Need God to shine through.
God gave us. Three words. Not, offered an earner. Ours for the asking. There are 'gods', entities-made by God, that proceeded us. Before people-made. They ravage our world through idolatry. Not loving, not good, not just, not true.
'You know who your friends are when…' God is this. Our friend. He speaks of leaving us to it, if that's what we choose. But it's not what God wants to the point of the paining God when we do.
Thanks for reading.
God be with the ones who'll doing whatever, will bring peace, to Syria.
And somehow amplify the voices and cries of Yemen and shake those who can stop this killing.
God be with us to know what we can do.
God help all who type and talk out, and up, for truth and justice.
God bring the word you gave to us and power.
God we need you. God we we need you.