great read =)
As I tell my friend that instead of feeling God I feel death, he sips his coffee and suggests we take a smoke break outside.
The snow snows harder. It swirls down and is whisked upward and circled round in the parking lot as we take alternate drags from our cigarettes and blow into our hands.
If I could just hear His voice, or know I was doing the right thing, it would mean a lot.
In the past, I was always finding myself in situations where I was helping the desperate and encountering the most bizarre scenes of need. My calling wasn’t visiting homeless shelters or going on church mission trips. My life brought me into contact with the most dejected and injured people so I might have to listen to the Spirit in order to stop the suffering of one person, even if only for that brief encounter.
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