It’s raining outside, but when I stand in it, I don’t feel like I’m wet.
It is so easy to get caught in things. And stuff. And relationships. It becomes default to go solely on doing things that I neglect thinking, and being. Sometimes I’ll be in a trance and remember: “Oh my gosh. I exist. Life is real. I breathe. I live.” My life is not a movie in constant repeat but in is tangible. You can taste it. Someone once explained to me that sustaining conscious thought about life, Jesus, God, salvation, redemption, beauty, love, and forgiveness is like holding your hand open as wide as you can. If you do this it is a struggle to maintain that state of wide openness and receptiveness, but the very second you let go, it closes in on itself.
O how I pray that I would not close in on myself. I live because of my God’s death. I have no perfect words or phrases to give to this.
Not noticing grace in my life is like standing in the rain and thinking I am completely dry. Idiotic.
I pray that these umbrellas would be blown away.