Perdido Key, Florida. I was in a hotel room, desperately reading my Bible, even more desperately crying out to God. Somewhere along the way I had, well, lost my way. And I couldn’t find my way back.
Back to a consistently focused walk with God.
Back to a first-love commitment to Jesus.
Back to a sense of spiritual usefulness and power.
Back to a faith that could at least move me, even when it couldn’t move mountains.
Back to the hope that somehow tomorrow could actually be better than today.
I could have told you how to find your way back to wherever you left your path. But I was lost as last year’s Easter egg when it came to me.
I heard all the things I already knew in my head. Didn’t help.
I heard all the platitudes and steps and methods I’d told others and they had told me. Ditto.
I heard all the sermons I had preached to others about coming back to Jesus, and they were profoundly useless to me.
And what I was reading in the Bible wasn’t helping much, either. I kept reading passages in psalms where David would pray things like, “Vindicate me, O God, because I have walked in my integrity.”
I didn’t have any integrity. And the last thing I needed to see in that situation was vindication. Justice either.
In desperation I silently cried out, “God! Is there a verse in there for the rest of us?”
And He showed me something that changed my life. [click to continue…]
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Behind the home my dad grew up in, and lives in today, my grandfather built a smokehouse around 78 years ago. Every winter, when the weather got extremely cold, my grandparents, my dad and his siblings, and their farm hands would kill 10-12 hogs – 3-4 at a time. I’ll spare you the details (you can thank me later).
