So I?m feeling as though I need to write something, although what I?m not sure. My world is going past so quickly, everything around me just seems to blur into something that I would rather not take the time to discern. I?m so anxious to get into what it is this summer has been preparing me for that I miss what the rest of this summer could be. To be honest I?m in quite a hard spot because of the position I am in. The sermon yesterday that Jennifer gave hit home, she mentioned that those with more gifts have a heavier responsibility for His kingdom. To be honest that isn?t want I needed to hear, my devotional time lately has not been what I?ve wanted to read. Time and again I read about the fact that there are high expectations and that it will be forged onward alone. Here?s to having something to write about.
No longer do I fit in here, in this city, in this house. There are few people here who understand what they need to, and I?m not yet in a place to assume my roll. I?m sick of being around people who condemn my understanding of scripture and spirit filled life as arrogance. Mostly I?m just tired of people not understanding what it is I?m doing, people telling me how great an experience it was to go to France. They couldn?t be further off as they talk to me with glazed eyes and demons blinding their eyes and convincing them of lies so blatant they must be true. If it were an experience it would be done, I?m far from it. My next years are going to be preparing others to go, to raise up His laborers and move them to that part of the vineyard. It?s far from over, my prayers continue, I am still there, you only see me here because you don?t know how else to look at me.
You are stuck looking at how I?ve ?changed.? The tan I have, the bag I carry, the worn feet from countless miles walked on cobblestone roads and maybe even the words I say (the slight French I still speak). The things that are actually different you miss, you don?t take time to see because your eyes are closed, or even worse, have never even been opened. Things I don?t speak of are foolishness to you upon my tongue, forcing words to retreat to whence they came. I?m tired of people who don?t admit their un-satisfaction, spending time seeking it where there is only despair.
I have nothing else to write.
Take care and God bless,