Oh dear oh dear oh dear.
It's happened again.
Another, awful, sinking of the stomach moment
where I realise just how small I've drawn my comfort zone
and how big you are
and how selfish I am...
Oh dear oh dear...!
At first the idea sounded great! Exciting!
But I just realised in the car on the way home that going through with it would mean
living in a motorhome for Jesus
no real bedroom
very little stuff
no place for all my books
I feel sick now at how hard that feels.
Sick that it so rarely occurs to me that following you might mean leaving
a lot of stuff behind.
All of it in the end, obviously.
I'm so slow and stupid and selfish!
Please help me to hold more loosely to these
acquisitions of my discontent.
Please help me to honour you with all my life,
Help me to make it all a sacrifice of praise to you.
Please make me happy to live in a motorhome for you.
Not cos I have to right now,
but because I want to be able to do that for you.