This world is abusive. A terrible summery. If nothing else, makes me want to run to God.

Have half-an-hour and space. Oh precious minutes. Type and towards-God go. Thinking up and groaning, talking out, remembering, and yet forgetting or resisting, quietly embracing and hoping, break up the ground and treading grapes. What's in and connecting out, requires squeeze and shaking.

Feel that abuse and the blank generation, wherever I turn. Not knowing how to deal with the degradation of humanity -- but run, run, run. 'We abuse'. Again, somehow seems the term. We're missing something, so take from where else but each other, yet what cannot be found. Presume God is real and look around? How Gospel insight is fitting.

Know God is real and turn from and to. Quick and often.

We're on a social shipwreck but the boards and hull, in much of this end, are somewhat holding. On the surface, not seen from a distance. Hitting rocks but somehow no capsize. This doesn't -- think-should maybe more -- bother me.

The line is many are called, few are fit in every way. "So gotta run-run-run-run-run, run to you". Song bubbling in my sub.con; 'ohhh, ohh, I'm lost without you'. What an anathema sounds to the doubtful or don't believe/receivers.

Made for rock-bottom ones, following Jesus.

Readily admit my disarray is self-inflicted. Thankfully, mostly a pile on from the past and less current battering. A mix of wasted benevolence in a misplaced, youthful, enthusiasm.

Blessed are the poor brings rightful relief. Better this than a breeze along and building empty resolutions. Gone the days, when the shine glistened such, the idols appeal quite the same.

Cannot help but despair that all -- but where O where be thee ? -- have 'forgotten God' and live among the upshot. I Forget too, shamefully so.

A projection, albeit mild low frequency frustration and despair, is set to a default nag and niggle. We can barely help locking in. God-aware-not, like a host, looking for a home.

Believing on God isn't a struggling aspiration it's a desperate necessity. There's less and less for me anywhere but God. Typing these words to a virtual void, part of me still concerns, might be seen and the embarrassing response. Gaining or maintaining someones attention? What a grand illusion.

For what? Appreciation, applause? No. Make a connection and company? As if.

And what have I faith for?

Repeating these words, because they exalt the only one and pour through me something other, something else -- new wine.

Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.