I work on two messages per week . . . researching and writing one that I will preach in eight to ten weeks and then internalizing one that I will deliver on the upcoming Sunday. For some reason, I’ve never gotten the two confused.
Of all the doctrines that different Christians hold, dispensationalism with its secret rapture is my least favorite.
In my dark nights of the ministry soul I have a secret desire to go into the lawn care business.
I have good hand writing for a man. Even for a woman. Hand written notes have been a core part of my practice of ministry since way back in 1990.
I can’t fix or build anything.
When I go to the Y, I ONLY wear white shorts if I am working on arms, shoulders, or back, and I ONLY wear dark shorts if I am working on chest and legs. Always. Only. The shirt color doesn’t really matter. I’m still waiting for SOMEONE there to notice what I’m wearing and say, “Oh, today must a be a ________ day.” One day.
The main lesson God has been teaching me this year is that I have to be self-aware enough to fight my own self-absorption.
I love Pardon The Interruption as long as both Wilbon and Kornheiser are there.
James 4:13-17 = Psalm 39:4-8.
The blinking yellow left turn signals remain the worst thing about living in Charlotte.
I didn’t really know how to read Genesis 1 until James-Michael Smith showed me how. What a great example of reading Scripture not literally and not symbolically but literarily . . . according to the kind of literature it is.