what if I couldn’t do any of those things? What if I was trapped in a house, in my room, in my bed, alone and in pain? What if I couldn’t bathe myself? What if getting to the toilet required a monumental effort equaled only by getting back to my bed afterward?
I don’t know why I can’t get into the habit of asking for God’s help first instead of screwing it up on my own and then asking Him to help me fix it.
When I lose things I ask God to help me find them. And He always does. Case in point: Earlier this week I couldn’t find my Bank of America zipper bank bag. In it I keep my booksigning cash, my booksigning pens and my Square credit card device. After every…
Perhaps we have no idea what true suffering is. We haven’t been hung on a cross. So until that happens, why don’t we count our blessings instead of complaining about how bad our life/spouse/job/living conditions are?