Today I’ve been convicted. Not of a crime, but of a wrong.
Yesterday I blogged about the joy I felt when finding my dad’s writings in my storage building. The anxiousness and excitement I felt to read them.
It was a treasure, how someone who had passed on could still speak to me. And then God was like, “Hello, Mcfly!” tap*tap*tap on my head (Back to the future reference in case you’re wondering.) “Anybody in there?”
And he continued to speak to me and show me that He too is my Father who is not physically with me but has left me his words and his writings. Why am I not as anxious and excited about His book and words? Why do I not immediately sit and pore over them like I did my dad’s journal.
In the same way I entered a dark storage building and it was flooded with light, so our dark lives can also be illuminated by the Words of God.
“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Psalm 119: 105
I must confess that since my dad died, I have not been spending time reading my Bible. And I must. I must make a priority of it.
Dear Father, Thank you for loving me despite my shortcomings. Thank you for my dad, his life, and his writings. Help me to find your words riveting and captivating. Show me understanding and discernment while I read your Word. Forgive me for not making time for you. In Jesus name.