Okay, the truth of why I haven't been writing is because there's some unrest in my soul that won't be satisfied by pithy prose or good, deep soul writing. It's the sort of unrest that is wrought in the deepest parts of me. The rubber hitting the road in the vernacular. The part when all the sweet nectar of gospel centrality drips onto things I want to call already good enough.

The truth is that God is hitting on some nerves recently. He's saying, oh so sweetly and gently, hey, I'm not just interested in you being delivered from sin or doubt, I'm interested in the best and good parts of you too. He's offering some gifts to me that I never thought I'd want or be worthy of wanting. And I'll be honest: I still haven't plumbed the depths of my desires beyond the desperate need for His love. To me that desperate need is the root of all my sins and victories. It is the beginning and end of every joy and every fall. I need His love and His love is the only antidote.

This is humbling, but it's also humiliating, to be honest.

Because sometimes the world looks at the preciousness of God's gift and points and laughs. And sometimes the church looks at the preciousness of God's gift and thinks it is always a joy and light burden. The truth is that is a lonely path to walk when God bids a man to come and die. Because we're not just dying to what we call bad, we're dying to what we call good too.

So that's where I'm stuck these days.

I'm stuck on the desperate desire for good things and the deep knowledge that God's gifts are always better than good enough.

I say to my beloved friend the other day that I feel like God is giving me an option, right now, He's saying,

I don't like choices.

I like to walk through every open door until one is closed in my face. This makes choice easy.

It is so much harder to know that God has good plans and purposes, but lets us look at two open doors and find the most joy in the choosing of one.