You are my God, and I will thank you; you are my God, and I will exalt you. Psalm 118:28
So another thing Matteo and I talked about yesterday was maybe we needed to write a book trying to figure out why this journey is so hard, every single day. Every single day we need manna; we can’t store it up. Every single day we ask for our daily bread. Every single day we need to wash off our dusty feet. I mean, Jesus himself had to pray in solitude before each pushing, shoving single day.
Lest we even pretend for even a moment that we are not clinging to His hand.
But He is faithful. And His mercies are new every day. Even in the early evening when I walk out of Fry’s after a long hard school day with some soggy paper bags that rip open and spill out eggs and pears all over the pavement. And I whisper or perhaps mutter, Dear God I need some gladness, and from my kneeling down position I glance upward, and there He is, written all over the Tucson sky.
|photo by Carlos Azarte|
And the day before a whole carton of eggs fell out of the refrigerator door. So we ate bacon and roasted tomato and basil omelets.
And I will thank you. You are my God. I will exalt you.