Verse up, lob up a title that could provoke and say... What? Go with Abraham's test after looking at it during prayer-time. Digging. Pushing myself to spend the allotted session, doing something, approximating praying. Truth is -- am like one of those wild horses running in circles held by a rope and a pole. Break-in me and . . .
Why so very few into-Jesus and this our number one? Reasons get personal. Our disposition, prejudices, and ideals -- all go toward the influence. Baggage carried into the exchange. God -- might be at, "could be there and Jesus-like?" stage -- is reaching to us and we move unto, or back off? Two directions, we're all, . . .
Snakes and poisons?
'Monsanto' got me going and the hit from glysophates, courts have ruled, is killing someone. Speculation, doing us all -- somewhat, in. Soft culling. Considered fanciful thinking and "far-out-there". The cool-looking line to say; we-lot can think-up too much and over imagine the baddies . . .
Jesus death is live and happening. An achievement which drew out and dealt with illegitimate and unwanted 'unseen' miscreants. Go-their-own-way powers with personality. Set off, in and among, creation's freedoms. Requiring a battle to resolve and our remake/renew humanity. Entities who in a few hours were full-through . . .
Quite something, talk of being useful to God. The analogy here is about utensils in a kitchen. Not only of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay; some are for special purposes and some for common use.
The implication is to be ready and able. Cleansed ourselves and good to go. Or do -- in the stay. The most useful thing . . .
The etymology of 'routine' is from the French 'route or road'. How about 'root in'? Getting inside the heart or the central and deepest of the matter: How to live in God?
Holding a casual course, all mild and moderate is a road -- or routine -- to lapsing away. Tons who 'come to Christ' move . . .
'Cool, calm and collected' sums most often and most of us. Unless of course, personal troubles are pressing in and don't have any degree of ease. Dylan sang 'most of the time...' this about romantic love lost and coping 'most of...'
How about life-lost? A sense all gone. Or for real and . . .