The crowds follow the fragrance. Looking for bread. Multiplying in His hands.
Fresh bread from the Master draws them. Like hot loaves from the oven.
But then. He speaks. Hard words. Strange to their ears. Threatening their loyalties.

The crowds follow the fragrance. Looking for bread. Multiplying in His hands.
Fresh bread from the Master draws them. Like hot loaves from the oven.
But then. He speaks. Hard words. Strange to their ears. Threatening their loyalties.

“Hmm,” my college art teacher says. Then again, “Hmmmm.”
She’s looking over my shoulder. At the simple drawing. Graphite lines. Bare bones to plan and guide the assigned painting.
“Bigger. Go big!” She says. With increasing volume. Her arms flying out for emphasis. “Stretch it out. Go biiiig.”
The startling command contrasts with my small, neat pencil sketch. So confined and contained.

Approaching October. In a year that beats all. And it occurs to me. I can’t remember this year’s verse.
Typically, I ask the Lord if there’s a verse to focus on throughout the year.
And I write the chosen verse out. Meditate on it. Consider applications along the way. Note similar themes in daily Bible readings that year.
Today, I’m searching. It’s September. And no 2020 verse is written on my spiral-bound notecards. What?
