Thoughts on the twenty-one who wear white robes.

"Let me tell you about the Christians of Egypt."

That's what I wanted to write about and reflect upon; to encourage and inspire my fellow believers with what I have seen in action, because it is more real than we comprehend when we only see it in the news.  I lived in Egypt for a significant period of time.  It was my privilege to sit in their churches, share in their communion, walk their streets, live their life, call it mine, and be called "Egyptian" by my brothers and sisters.  For so many reasons, I want to brag on the reality of the faith of the Christians there.  We could learn much from their example and have our perspective greatly improved by it.  It is very different from anything you may have ever seen.

But it will have to wait.  Right now, I am overcome with too many other thoughts.  So here they are, just thinking out loud, raw and open.

I am full of heartache.

Twenty-one Egyptians went to Libya simply to make a living.  Twenty-one seemingly common men.  Kidnapped by Jihadists, slaughtered to send a message to the rest of the Egyptian Coptic Church ("the nation of the cross") and the world.

I am full of heartache because these were sons, husbands, fathers... their heads severed on video; the water and the shore turned red with their blood.  They will never in this life see their families again.  They left young wives, children, and parents who will have to do life now without them.  It's heart-rending.  Grief unspeakable.

I am overflowing with joy and with love.

I am overflowing because the testimony left by the parents and wives of these men is bullet-proof.  The forgiveness they have shown toward the killers of their loved ones... the sheer joy they have exuded over the knowledge that Heaven is their new home... even the pride about the fact that all these men from their village were strong until the end and died for Jesus... It makes no sense because it is Christlike.  It is other-worldly.  It is Heavenly.

"And they overcame him [Satan] because of the blood of the Lamb and because of the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives even when faced with death."  (Rev 12:11)

"These [men] insisted to remain in unbelief," read the caption on the video.  Every one of these men had the chance to convert rather than die, and every one of them chose to die rather than dishonor their Savior.  Even with knives at their throats, they called out to the Lord Jesus who they knew they would be meeting soon.

I am overflowing.  There is hardly anything so sweet as pure faith in Jesus.  "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." (Psalm 115:16)

I am angry.

I am angry because while twenty-one precious believers were forced to the sand, their heads sawed off brutally with knives, all America could talk about was Fifty Shades of Grey.  Fifty Shades.  Of freaking.  Grey.  A movie that glorifies and celebrates violence, abuse, and rape.  A movie whose leading actors admit to hating themselves for even acting it out.  I want to tear my hair out by the roots.  My heart is sick.  So is my stomach.  Because all the body of Christ can do is argue about how the the worst thing you could possibly do is to be "judgy" about the movie.  All Christians can do is point the finger back at their brothers and sisters and say, "We have enough of our own problems!  How dare you get angry about this movie."  And that's just the Christians who aren't going to see the movie themselves.

Let me tell you something, American Christians.  Egyptian Christians would be shocked out of their minds to know that this movie does not anger you.  To know that too many of you would even consider seeing it.  In my mind's eye I can vividly see the faces of my close friends there... the blood draining from their mortified faces.  Confused.  Unable to believe that anyone claiming to follow Jesus could in any way justify not being outraged over such things.  They would be embarrassed even to talk about it.

I am angry because of the continual, unbelievable lies spewed and spread by our government.  The statement issued by the White House did not acknowledge that the victims were Christians.  The White House will not even use the term "radical Islam" because including Islam at all "would not be accurate."  Apparently, we may call it "terrorism," but it is terrorism that the leader of the free world says is "randomly" perpetrated.  People in that part of the world think he's a joke-- that he's either extremely ignorant, or a total liar.

Don't you dare tell us that this has nothing to do with religion when these Jihadists state, with every beheading, that they kill for the sake of Allah.  And don't you dare try to cover up the fact that this is persecution in its most obvious form.  The video was addressed to Egyptian Copts.  It was titled, "A Message Signed With Blood To The Nation of The Cross."  But, according to our government, it has nothing to do with targeting Christians.

This is absolutely nothing new.  But it is still disgusting.  The Church is called to endure persecution.  The government is called to end injustice.  God will hold every man accountable.

I am angry and concerned not only about the carnality and the easily-excused sin issues in our Western churches, but also about the sheer banality with which we seem to be so contented.  We spend morbid amounts of time on entertainment, alarming amounts of money on stuff we don't truly need, and a mortifying amount of energy making ourselves more happy and comfortable.  I'm angry about the status quo with which we are so comfortable.  How very wrapped up we are in mind-numbingly pointless discussions... activities... movies... humor... pastimes... celebrities... gossip... things that in the end of all things and in eternity simply. don't. matter.

It angers me that we throw around the term, "persecuted," and don't really understand it; that we all pay attention to the "big" incidents like this-- "wake-up calls," we call them-- but in between times, we forget all about the fact that our brothers and sisters are suffering around the world on a daily basis.  This is not some grand wake-up call, Christians.  Things like this, and far worse, have been happening ever since Lucifer pitted himself against God.  All throughout human history.  We may not be living through them in this particular country at this particular time, but we are utterly surrounded by such things.

Here's a question for us to ponder:  "What if it was me?"  What if it was my husband who was slaughtered on the southern shore of the Mediterranean?  What if my little boy's life was threatened before my eyes in an attempt to get me to deny my Savior?  I feel like we always read these stories about persecution and react with, "That's so sad!"  And we follow it up with, "I could never..." or, "I know I'd never have the courage..."  Why do we react like that?  Here's another question, if you find yourself thinking that way:  "What in my life needs to change?"  Why am I not at that place where I love Jesus so much and know Him so well that I would be certain of Heaven with a knife at my throat?  Why is my heart not so full of His forgiveness that I could extend that forgiveness to another?

It angers and saddens me that if the the time we spent with our fellow believers was truly "fellowship," few would actually enjoy it.  That if, when having other Christians over for dinner, we spent most of the evening in prayer, singing, worship, or actual edification, it would come off as weird.  Awkward.  Definitely unconventional.  Not a time of great joy and happiness and praising God-- the one thing that we would claim brings us together.  I promise you that the reason Jesus was on the lips of these twenty-one saints as their throats were slit is because they knew Him.  They loved Him; they lived for Him.  He was and is their Life.  He was real to them both in their quiet times and when gathered with their friends.  I miss that about the church in Egypt; miss living with my Christian friends and Jesus being so central.  I miss it with every beat of my heart.

I am full to the brim with hope.

I am hopeful, not in the way we commonly think of "hoping" as if it were a wish... not as when we say that "hopefully" something will happen.  I'm hopeful in the way that the epistles describe "our hope"-- certainty.  Complete and utter certainty about what is to come.

I am hopeful when I read the Book of Revelation.  I absolutely love that book.  I could read it every day and derive endless bounds of joy and hope and purpose because it gives us the big-picture perspective of the eternal.  We KNOW, people.  Unlike anyone who does not have our hope, we know what happens in the end!  Nothing should be a surprise to us in the meantime.  Things gets confusing and shocking when we start looking through our tiny, everyday-perspective lens too much.  There is nothing that is not going according to the overall, eternal plan.  God is not confused or shocked.

I am hopeful because torture and physical death cannot kill the soul.  It cannot kill love.  It cannot kill faith.  It cannot kill the resolve of Jesus followers-- it never has, and it never will.  Death, and all of Satan's armies, cannot kill the absolute certainty of God's cosmic plan for the ages and the fact that it will be accomplished.  It is irrevocably written into the story of the ages that Satan will be destroyed in the most majestic and epic war story of all time.  For now there is suffering, but never forget this:  Satan and all the enemies of God are going down in an event that will  be so much more than apocalyptic.

I am hopeful because even as Christians are killed, even as the Gospel is perverted, even as false teachers rise up and deceive millions, even though many who think they are Christians are not and successfully lead others astray... even as Satan is given reign over this world for a time, God is not mocked.  The Gospel is still going out, and people are still being saved.  His people are still His and He knows who they are.

Amid the tears, agony, injustice, and grief, there is joy, redemption, beauty, and a whole lot of hope.  There is still much to be done before Jesus' return, and it is only God's mercy and patience that allow more time for anyone who will believe to believe in Him and become a child of His.

Christians, we are all given different gifts and roles in life, but we all share the same purpose.  Let us stay connected closely to our Life source, fight the good fight, finish the race, and keep the faith.  Let us live every day to hear the sweetest words we could ever hear from our Father:  "Well done, good and faithful servant."

"The fields are white  unto harvest."

"Even so, come, Lord Jesus!"

"Your Mom!"

This post may call for buckling up and strapping down. I may not sugarcoat this topic very well, but I don’t think it needs it. Straight shooting is sometimes the best way to get the point across...

I realize that some moms out there are just awful mothers. Let’s be honest. I’ve been a close witness of and close friends to people whose moms are abusive, promiscuous, alcoholics, absentee, drug users, or behind bars. Also, other moms who are self-righteous, demeaning of their husbands, extremely hypocritical, self-obsessed and have full-fledged stubbornness or rage issues bordering on the demonic. Some mothers, for one reason or another, are just expert homewreckers… whether they intend to be or not.

I recognize that forgiving a mother like that takes nothing less than all the grace of God. [But it is possible. It is not only possible; it is 100% necessary if we claim ourselves to be one of the hopeless, undeserving souls whose debt Jesus paid completely.]

However, most mothers do not fit the above descriptions. Let’s talk about the mom who probably more closely resembles ours.

The average mom makes mistakes. Big ones.
The average mom tends to talk too much, or not enough.
She’s probably either too much of a clean freak or too much of a hippie;
too much of a spender or more stingy and therefore “isn’t as fun as dad.”
The average mom has no idea what she’s doing.
If she loves Jesus deeply and has a relationship with Him, she’s leaning on Him with everything she has to figure out how to deal with every single next step… or even just the next day.

The average mom also loves her children more than they will ever know until they have children.
The average mom has more on her mind, in her schedule and on her worry radar than anyone usually understands or appreciates.
She is scared stiff of failing as a mom, whether she's the type to show it or not.
She probably tries to be perfect, or close to it, and not just for her reputation or your dad but for you.
But the average mom is messy and imperfect and seemingly short-tempered at times (often driven there by her offspring!), and unashamed of expressing the amount of love and concern she has for her kids.
Her blind, self-centered children most likely cause her, at one point or another, more pain and tears than they ever realize at the time. Or perhaps ever.

Moms want their children to be healthy and happy and have a good life. So their actions usually reflect whatever they think will bring that about. Whether those actions are right or wrong, the motive is usually a loving one.

And this brings me to my whole point.

I am at retching-level sick and tired of watching the way so many grown people treat their mothers. [Their fathers, too, but that’s a different topic for a different day.]

Hopefully you realize that just being a teenager gives no one the reason nor right to be sassy, rebellious, snotty or cold with their mother. But if you never did get that memo, and you’re an adult now—What the heck are you still doing??

Maybe you've had vicious arguments (in which you probably just assumed you were right when you were actually too big for your britches). Yes, she’s hurt you. You’ve hurt her too. (My mom and I are no exception.) Maybe she's caused you legitimate damage and heartache. Please understand that I am in no way dismissing it. But isn’t it time to let go of that and start afresh? Of course she’s wronged you. Who are you? Jesus?

Of course our parents were faulty. We will be, too. We are human beings with a flesh that wars against the spirit. We look to God to be made holy, but in this life we still sin.

So, what if your mom always reminds you to wear your seatbelt even though you always do? Is it going to hurt you to say, “Okay, mom”?
So what if she expresses something for the hundredth time?
So what if she enjoys bragging about you to her friends, or scrapbooking your life?
So what if she does or says things that actually do sort of embarrass you? What's that to you?
You're an adult; she's not going to actually prevent you from your adrenaline-fix activities. So let her show her concern anyway. Listen to and respect her, even when you disagree with her.

Let’s be real: She carried you around inside of her for the better part of a year and then shoved you out of a space that wasn’t exactly your size. And then, to keep you alive, she probably literally fed you with, well, herself. And she changed your stinkin’ diapers several times a day. For a LONG. TIME. You kept her awake for countless nights with your screaming, but she dealt with it. And that’s not even getting started on just the practical things, in just the first week of your life. And, wonder of wonders, she actually loved you through all of it and enjoyed you. I mean, SERIOUSLY………

Let her in on your life. The coy, immature “It’s MY business and I don't have to keep you in the loop” information-deprivation-tactic – really? Still?? That’s so 9th grade. (And it shouldn’t have been okay even then. Especially then.) Let her be protective and give you stuff and be excited for you. Let her say what she feels and repeat her stories. Spend time with her. Let her kiss you on the cheek. Hug her when she cries because you’re leaving. Because, as hard as you try, you probably have no idea what she feels for you. And she’s not going to be around forever.

I'm guessing your friends would never get away with stuff like that. But she’s not exactly just a friend. She’s like no one else in the world. She’s your MOTHER, and all that stuff she does that is unique to her is called MOTHERING, for crying out loud. She’s earned it.

I get that moms can be “annoying” sometimes (I guess—I’ve never really experienced it). They don’t always make perfect sense to those of us who are not mothers. I know mine doesn't always. But isn't that beside the point? What if yours is downright “annoying?” Can't you display some grace and maturity, laugh it off, not make it about you in the first place, and go along with her for once, out of respect and because you love her?

We have but one life during which we have the opportunity to love sacrificially.

Being “too good for” or “embarrassed by” one's mom is for stuck-up, arrogant, ungrateful jerks and prisswads. As which none of us would probably like to categorize ourselves.

Not that I feel strongly about this or anything.

- - -

PS: God puts a high value on this stuff. Old Testament Mosaic Law or not, these are a peek into how He feels about it...

"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." 

"...For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins."
(Matthew 6) 

"'Honor your father and mother' (this is the first commandment with a promise), 'that it may go well with you and that you may live long in the land.'"
(Ephesians 6) 

"Listen to your father who gave you life, and do not despise your mother when she is old."
(Proverbs 23) 

"The eye that mocks a father and scorns to obey a mother will be picked out by the ravens of the valley and eaten by the vultures."
(Proverbs 30) 

“If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son who will not obey the voice of his father or the voice of his mother, and, though they discipline him, will not listen to them, then his father and his mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his city at the gate of the place where he lives, and they shall say to the elders of his city, ‘This our son is stubborn and rebellious; he will not obey our voice; he is a glutton and a drunkard.’ Then all the men of the city shall stone him to death with stones. So you shall purge the evil from your midst, and all Israel shall hear, and fear."
(Deuteronomy 21)

10 Things My Dad Taught Us

I'm one of eleven crazy children raised by my parents. The indisputably most important thing they have imparted to us has been a knowledge of God and His Word. And from that knowledge of God were derived other principles, these primarily from my dad. Most of these he taught explicitly; others, in not remotely so many words, but by his own actions. I share them as a tribute to him. While admittedly far from exemplifying many of these currently, I definitely find that I nonetheless still tend to see them as what ought to be the norm for myself.



1.)     Do the hard thing…

…On purpose. Be uncomfortable. Do not even have a comfort zone – if you do, go outside of it, obliterate it, and then never go back. Do the awkward thing, the difficult thing, the sweaty thing, the distasteful thing, the miserable thing. Soon, one finds there are few actually disliked things left. “To built character,” he would say, “a person needs to do two things, at the very least, that they strongly dislike… each day.” Oh, we regularly surpassed that number... [Is it any wonder that the majority of marriages fail, in a time when difficulty is reason enough to quit?]

He summed it up something like this: “Comforts and luxury are to be enjoyed and appreciated when you have them. But don’t go looking for them.”

Perk: Everything seems relatively easy when you regularly seek out the difficult stuff.

2.)       Pain is your friend.

When you embrace pain, it doesn’t hurt as much, if at all. Make friends with it, and you won’t be fighting it anymore. The resulting relief and the freedom is almost palpable.

I first began to understand this in reality while marathon training. Running mile after mile can be both painful and boring. Originally, my approach was to grit my teeth and “gut it out.” That, however, produced a vicious inward battle: me fighting against the misery. I found that when I surrendered and accepted it—“This is going to hurt for the next three hours, and that’s okay”—that suddenly all was well. It wasn’t so hard. Nothing had changed except my attitude.

3.)       Overcome your fears.

No one should live with debilitating fear. I did not know until later how rare it is to grow up sans ordinary phobias. Spiders, heights, snakes, small spaces, germs, lightning, flying, the dark, shots? Noooope. [There is one, but it doesn’t stop me... if you know me, you know what it is! Haha.]

When I was 9 years old and we were farming with horses, I fell and my little frame ended up underneath an implement. (This particular farm accident was no one’s fault.) A metal disc sliced deep into my tiny leg, taking it and me out of action for quite awhile.

The very next morning, early, my dad carried me lovingly out to where the horses were hitched, set me up on the seat, and had me take them for a few more passes on the field I had been working the day before. I didn’t understand why at the time, nor did I ask; I assumed he knew what he was doing, and he did. My dad didn’t want his daughter to grow up with a fear of horses or a fear of disking a field.

He took the principle of “Get back up” or “Get back on” to a whole new level, and his children were the undoubted beneficiaries in every other area of life. Love isn't always accommodating.

4.)       Target your own weaknesses.

Personal growth and self-discipline are not too popular today. The message of the time is, “BE YOU.” Period. If it’s not comfortable, don’t force yourself. 

My dad, on the other hand, saw it as normal and necessary to address areas of inability or lack of natural talent. He recognized that everyone has their own God-given gifts, areas of expertise and personal strengths, but that “I’m just not good at that” or “That’s not my thing” should never be an excuse. I never remember us once calling a mechanic, a plumber, an electrician, construction workers, even a vet. He, my sister and I built our barn, for goodness’ sake. His method was simple: If he didn’t know how to do something, he whipped out a manual and studied it. He talked to people and asked questions. He made observations.

No wonder it seemed like my dad could do absolutely everything—he basically could. He is a true James Bond-esque jack-of-all-trades. Not by birth, but through sheer hard work and intentional character development.

5.)       American culture is not your authority.

In fact, it’s a crock of junk. (To love America and her freedom is not the same as being characterized by her lazy, immoral, entertainment-centric lifestyle.) “My children will not be Americanized,” my father was fond of saying, frequently.

Years later, it was strange and gratifying to hear that line of his quoted with a gleeful chuckle, and a thick Arabic accent, by an old Egyptian doctor I worked with in the Middle East. Doctor “E” LOVED it. He had seen the proof of that principle as it played out in life there.

It was not difficult for me to live completely removed from American culture. American culture, after all, was not my home. 

6.)       Check how you react to “No.”

“We don’t always get what we want.” He said it so many times that I can hear it almost audibly in my mind now. He and Mama drummed into us the manner of thought that understands two simple things: Often in life, we do not get our way – and that’s okay. Sometimes we do, but not right away – and that’s okay, too.

In a time and culture that probably couldn’t even define the concept of delayed gratification, my dad instituted in our home and on his calendar something he called “’No’ Days.” On those particular days, anything my siblings and I requested was denied. (Within reason… we still had our three square meals and every other facet of a normal day.) Our job was to respond cheerfully. It was not hard. Our parents loved us like crazy; when they said “No,” it was never vindictive and we knew it was for our own good. 

Turns out that we never understood the concept of “begging,” and to see a spoiled child screaming his head off in the grocery store was sheer trauma.

7.)       Give everything you’ve got.

Hold nothing back. “Leave nothing on the table,” as it were. If it’s worth doing, do it all the way; put all of yourself into everything you have weighed and deemed worthy of pursuit. Be all there. Do not get in the habit of being a half-hearted creature.

Because of how we were expected to work this out in other areas of life, we understood the concept of giving all of oneself, unreservedly, to something/someone. It’s pretty darn helpful in jobs, relationships, marriage. It propelled my success in search and rescue. It was the only way I knew when I gave myself to God. And I thank Him eternally for my earthly father’s wisdom.

8.)       You can always “make do” with what you have.

We rarely had the luxury of simply going out and buying the tool or ingredient we needed. It was not even an option, really. For the longest time, we didn't have a wheelbarrow, and God knows we could have used it. Find something, invent something, make it work. That was the idea.

Also, nothing ever has to be “just so.” “Only a poor runner blames his shoes.” If circumstances have to be just right and certain conditions have to be met in order to perform – in whatever area – you are handicapping yourself. Leave yourself no excuses; get in the habit of doing what “cannot” be done.

If you do not have the money, well, you spend nothing (in our earlier days, anyway). The reason so many people’s lifestyles do not match their income is because they are unwilling to live within their means—i.e., “make do.”

9.)       Learn from others’ mistakes.

It was a rare evening indeed, if my dad’s dinnertime spiel did not include an exhortation on why or why not to do as so-and-so did. Sometimes it was a news story he shared with the family. Sometimes, it was an unfortunate incident suffered by the farmer down the road.

As watchman for the family, he took it upon himself to warn us and make us aware of reality for our future survival. The big world out there was not all that up-close and personal in rural Wisconsin. Tales of another abduction of a teenage girl, someone gored by their own bull, a neighbor with health problems, or a friend’s divorce were common such topics. They never drove us to paranoia, but to think, be smart, and try to make wise decisions in life. He taught us to use the brains God gave us. Why repeat a mistake you’ve seen someone else make if you can learn from them instead?

It couldn’t make us immune, but it helped to make us more aware.

10.)   Treat people well: Listen to them, value them, put them first.

I cannot remember hearing him say anything remotely like this, but he screamed it through his actions with others. He gave his full, genuinely interested attention in conversation. He did not demand his own way or squawk for his “rights,” even when he could have. He despised that sort of thing and rose above it.

He always bought the most inexpensive thing possible, but never tried to cheat or even talk his way out of a price unless it was ridiculous. He wanted to be fair. He often gave people things he could have sold them instead. The person was more important than the price. Even with money, he treated others as he wanted to be treated.

This is the distinct notion I got from watching my dad deal with other people, including complete strangers: They, their thoughts, feelings and needs mattered more than his.

11.)   The people you love need to hear it, often.

You need to show them, and you need to verbally tell them. There is no reason to be content with just one or the other. I don’t know that my dad believed in particular love languages so much as all of them. Whether they came naturally or not was a side issue. I really think that sometimes we cripple ourselves by categorizing ourselves.

Looking at this list, one might get the notion that my dad was harsh and unfeeling with his kids. We would laugh at such a preposterous notion. The discipline never felt unfair because he was so obvious in his expressions of love. The love truly felt limitless.

Would you say something at your loved one’s funeral, from the heart, that they were unaware you felt for them while they were here on this earth? Tell them. 

Also, “Love” is spelled T-I-M-E, not M-O-N-E-Y. Especially as a father. We rarely had the one. We always had the other.

More Love

North Korea. 1950’s.

For years, Pastor Kim and 27 of his flock of Korean saints had lived in hand dug tunnels beneath the earth. Then, as communists were building a road, they discovered the Christians living under ground. 

The officials brought them out before a crowd of 30,000 in the village of Gok San for public trial and execution. They were told, “Deny Christ or you will die.” They refused. 

At this point, the head communist officer ordered four children from the group sized and had them prepared for hanging. With ropes tied around their small necks, the officer again commanded the parents to deny Christ.  

Not one of the believers would deny their faith. They told the children, “We will see you soon in heaven.” The children died quietly.  

The officer then called for a steam roller to be brought in. He forced the Christians to lie on the ground in its path. As its engine revved, they were given one last chance to recant their faith in Jesus. Again they refused. 

As the steam roller began to inch forward, the Christians began to sing a song they had often sung together. As their bones and bodies were crushed under the pressure of the massive rollers, their lips uttered the words: 

“More love to thee, O Christ, more love to thee. Thee alone I seek, more love to thee. Let sorrow do it’s work, more love to thee. Then shall my latest breath whisper Thy praise. This be the parting cry my heart shall raise; More love, O Christ, to thee.” 

The execution was reported in the North Korean press as an act of suppressing superstition. 

(Reference: “Jesus Freaks” by DC Talk & Voice of the Martyrs pp. 125.)

Such love. Tears fill my eyes.

More love to You, Jesus. More love to You. Is this all our hearts ache for? How do I, how can I, show that kind of love in my present circumstances?

Can we, today, perhaps risk looking like a freak... can we refuse to watch a movie we know is full of stuff Jesus died for, saying, "More love to Thee, Jesus. I love You more than I love fitting in or my flesh or entertainment."?

Can we refuse to laugh, not in a pious way, but out of humble love, when others joke about sin or in a demeaning way about their husbands? "More love to Thee. I love you more than my reputation."

Can we bite our tongues and right our attitudes when we just want to win a verbal argument? "More love to Thee. You died to make unity and love among believers."

Can we forgive someone who does not deserve it, whispering, "More love to Thee. I forgive because You forgave me an unforgivable debt."?

Can we ignore everything else we want to do, shut off our screaming brains for a bit, and spend time talking with Jesus and going to His Word to meet Him... often?

I daresay we must.

More love. More love to Thee.