Daily Devotional: Lacking Faith

Night and day we pray most earnestly that we may see you again and supply what is lacking in your faith.

– 1 Thessalonians 3:10 (NIV)

And in this, I functionally declare that it is sometimes hard to come to people, God's people in church, and see their faces, knowing how foolish I am and have been.  Often, I cower from within, possibly a symptom of a childhood shyness that should have fallen away long ago.  It is my hope that people do think of me, even so, praying that they see me again, with the intense hope that my faith be multiplied due to their diligence and love.

God almighty be thanked, for he brought Jesus low so that we might ascend the heights.  These "heights" are metaphorical only, as the heart of God is neither in the sky nor out in the expanse of space.  God exists in the hearts of men, so that we may expound upon his grace, and illuminate the dark spots of our world.  It is for us to share, so that we supply what is lacking in one another, that we may be made whole in our faith.

Even today, I wished failure upon myself, seeing my meager struggle as an obstacle, and not a blessing. So easy to forget, in times of distress, that God will supply all that I need.  So easy to fall prey to false pity, goaded by foolish pride, crying foul to all around you for your plight.  But the bed is made by you, and you must lie in it.  Accept your struggles as part of life and the result of what has happened in the world as it is, for we are all connected.  Yes, it is true: what you do will affect others, whether adversely or for gain.

I follow you, dear Jesus, for you saved me from myself.  I look to you in my time of trouble and need. so that I might not despair.  

God bless.

Write It!

I once thought the world was something it is most certainly not. I once had dreams, visions of what life could be- fantasies fed by the over bearing media sculpted illusion. A quixotic menagerie of exceptional lives that became my ideal. I should be ashamed to say it, but I own up to my ignorance. My life is nothing if not my own; I must carve out my own niche, and not be infatuated by the shine of one alien to me.

Why is it that we envy? Do we even understand that many folks who live these ideal lives are all surface for our understanding. We know nothing of the poor innerworkings that shake their foundations, much like our own.

My second book is ready. It's been ready. Seems like I have been waiting for the right time to present it. That time is now. Maybe it will finally allow me to be the individual I hunger to be, and the being God needs me to be. Somehow, that is probably wrong. I am already the man I need to be. I am Marcelle. I am Marcelle's life. Life and Marcelle are the same.