He doesn’t jump to resolve. Or rescue. The psalmist is moving through his pain and fear.
Moving through the murk, into trust.
He knows who God is.
And cries out to Him.

He doesn’t jump to resolve. Or rescue. The psalmist is moving through his pain and fear.
Moving through the murk, into trust.
He knows who God is.
And cries out to Him.

Words and more words. Flying across the internet.
Strutting through various forms of media. Selling incivility and foolishness.
Missives dismissive.
Declarations disruptive.
Treacherous.

In the close dark, I pray.
Struck by brilliant blue sky and bright sun sparkling on waves.
While fog of spiritual deception cloaks hearts and minds.
This is the most helpless I remember feeling during our sojourn across cultures.
