For The Love of God
Thursday, August 17 at 9:32 AM
Yesterday, a little after ten in the morning, I made my way outside for a bit. It was a gorgeous day - the sky was blue, with just the right number of clouds; the sun was shining; there was slight breeze.

As I was making my way up the street, taking all this in, I passed by two people - an elderly gentleman and a little boy - standing together and looking off into the distance. I gathered, after a glance at what was in their hands, that they were Jehovah's Witnesses.

I have to admit that I've always been impressed (and a little envious too, I suppose) of how enthusiastic they seem to be as they go about there business. I think I've lost count of the number of times I've been approached by someone of their persuasion, magazine in hand, as they attempted to win me over.

This, and a lot of other things that I've been seeing and thinking, all just reinforce the question I've been asking myself lately: "Where's the passion in my life?" Or really, perhaps it would be better to ask, "Who's the passion in my life." The answer to that would have to be, unfortunately, "Me".

What I mean is, if I really believe all that I believe - if I know it's true - why am I not more enthused by it? Why do I keep living my life the way I do?

Why isn't He at the centre of it?

I know I posted this song a long, long time ago. But it's just as true now as it was then, I think.

Wedding Dress
Derek Webb
From the album She Must and Shall Go Free

If You could love me as a wife
And for my wedding gift, Your life
Should that be all I’ll ever need
Or is there more I’m looking for

And should I read between the lines
And look for blessings in disguise
To make me handsome, rich, and wise
Is that really what You want

I am a whore I do confess
But I put You on just like a wedding dress
And I run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
But I put You on just like a ring of gold
And I run down the aisle to You

So could You love this bastard child
Though I don’t trust You to provide
With one hand in a pot of gold
And with the other in Your side

I am so easily satisfied
By the call of lovers less wild
That I would take a little cash
Over Your very flesh and blood

Because money cannot buy
A husband’s jealous eye
When you have knowingly deceived his wife

Click to listen and all that.
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