EXCERPT
How I long to be attentive to every word the Spirit of God whispers to my heart. But I’m afraid I’m more like a homing pigeon than a soaring goose. I cling to my turf, or anything else I deem belongs to me, with tightly clutched fingers arguing mine.
How I long to be attentive to every word the Spirit of God whispers to my heart. But I’m afraid I’m more like a homing pigeon than a soaring goose. I cling to my turf, or anything else I deem belongs to me, with tightly clutched fingers arguing mine.
What are you grasping with hand-clenched-vengeance today? Don’t you know, it’s going to hurt when God pulls your fingers off. So we’d be much better to hold everything He gives with open hands.
