Soap for Jesus

Dearest Lord, *coughs and looks up, blinking hard* I guess this has been coming for a while. I'm listening to a song that says all You want is me. And it's true... I've been feeling so down and depressed recently...I know You forgave me...but every time You do, even though I'm fully aware of Your forgiveness, and start smiling and singing again, I make no move to get close to You. And that's where the problem lies...if we don't move to get closer to You, we start moving backwards, because life with You can never BE at a standstill. It's like a love relationship. It IS a love relationship. If you don't work at it, it starts to collapse. It's not I haven't wanted You...it's I wanted other things more than You. I was angry...and hating...and lonely...and numb...and...I'm sorry... I need to forgive myself for what I've done...which I can't...but to forgive myself, I need to completely accept Your forgiveness and realise that

We cheered on the Olympians, and still more the Paralympians, with pride in our countries and awe at their amazing achievements. Those guys (and gals) sacrificed years and time and money and strength and purpose to one goal - to compete here. As Christians, we have our own Olympics to run. Our goal - which is Heaven, our struggle - which is life. And we are commanded to run in such a way as to win the prize - the prize of the upward calling of God in Christ Jesus. I went to the opening of the Baptist Bible College in Telford area today. The guy who preached was Pastor David More. He talked on running the race. But not so much the beginning, as the ending. We need to end well. Many people, he said, start off enthusiastically and with zeal. But not so many end up finishing well, because they didn't run with dedication and purpose. We need to set our sights on Christ and following Him. That must be our goal. We may change immediate goals and our lives turn around in the me

It's when I'm standing there, brushing my hair, that I realise I can't cope with the idea of another week stuck daily in an office, coming home tired, ending up exhausted, trying to do everything else and failing. Talking to people who I emotionally connect to via a telephone, who respond with briskness or harshness or apathy, most often than not. And it hurts. It's then He comes to me, close, and reminds me that He worked as a carpenter until He was thirty. Thirty years as a carpenter and three years of ministry. Then He died. And rose. And spent forty more days here. And left for Home. He reminds me of Noah, who spent five hundred years living normally. Had three sons. Then his world turned upside down - literally. He whispers of John the Baptist, who spent his life in the wilderness, until the time of his appearing to Israel. And He asks me, "Can you not do this for me? Can you not live the boring and the mundane, live the life I have placed you in