Immediately. The word rises off the page. In the Gospel of Mark.
Chapter after chapter.
His straight-forward style communicating. Sudden change. Right away.
Immediately.
Immediately. The word rises off the page. In the Gospel of Mark.
Chapter after chapter.
His straight-forward style communicating. Sudden change. Right away.
Immediately.
“How did he turn out that way?” my teenaged son asks. We’re standing at the kitchen table. On summer vacation in Arizona.
He’s distressed. Witnessing up close the rage and deceit of someone he’s trusted and admired. The downhill slide is shocking.
“It probably started with one lie,” I say. “Then another. And another. Until finally he was living a lie.”
What I do not know at the time of that conversation will come to light a month later. The fact that our son has been lying to us. For a while.
And has moved to “a far country” of deceit fueled by anxiety. Even as he lives within the four walls of our home.
Prodigal.
The father of lies is after his very soul.
“Did you hear what she just said? Listen.”
It’s back in the ‘90s. I’m participating in a counseling workshop in Karachi. Led by a woman from the UK whose counseling ministry is all about listening.
She instructs us on the importance of fully taking in what someone is sharing with you. Don’t try to give answers. Don’t start telling your own story.
Just listen.