God ‘gave them over’ this what gets me. Growing awareness and screaming loss and the absence of anything decent or attractive in the ‘over’. Painful. Dying to self the cry. A confession of faith, that all about, is increasingly empty. With this comes shame and strong. To project myself out there, so brash and full-of. On those . . .
Loosen up, shake-about and clink glasses. I want to see a jail-break. The metaphorical vision is true. And so is the literal. Since we all booted-up our personal portals we’ve been tagged. An open prison is…
Above already up. So freewheeling away an' nout to lose, remains. Peculiar prelude. How to connect and talking . . .
Soon come financial downturns and social unrest will see flashes of hope in the pain; renewed and better grounds for an up-rise in God alone desire and forthright devotion. Pockets and outposts, individuals and families, without anything much else but God.
Times now are to celebrate preparations and acclimatise out from . . .
More like mood to jabba on. Into the air and onto this thingamajig. Hate the sense am trying to show-off . Relieved come to care-not. Typing away could be judgmental and lowly about. Easy run whole enterprise down. As the TS bio says; 'Utterly self indulgent and wildly unpopular'. Somewhat grateful don't believe . . .
Dismantling the tags, guards and ever-filling cells completely, is more for me/now, than I have faith for.
After all, it's a relatively open one with plenty of association, food and like. Urgency at the walls and equipment to restrain might bubble below the surface but hardly causes obvious publicly present, . . .
My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag. Behold, he stands behind our wall; He is looking through the windows, gazing through the lattice. My beloved spoke, and said to me: “Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone."
Analogous for God into and on us.. . .
Discipline is everything. OK not true but near-as and a word describing the essential dynamics to reign in and be-released. I’ve come down to... – note direction – this. Discipline solves all, Scott Peck proclaimed – something like this. Remember well. But how far, heard when – did this impact and see me reaping?
Nope with . . .