It’s too easy to worry. I hate it.
Sometimes I look around me and wonder if other people are even thinking about some of the things that drive my mind to oblivion. Like, the kind of thinking that just snowballs races runs jumps until I’m standing teetering on the edge of anxiety. Where are the brakes on my thinking?
I know I’m analytical. I write to help me understand what’s going on in my life and what God is doing. Sometimes, though, the analysis slowly draws my head downward until I’m navel-gazing and trapped inside a melodramatic bubble where I forget Jesus is still Lord and that he’s in control because, hey, he made the universe and holds it together. Col 1:15-20.
I’m reading Luke. I’m taking each piece and just studying it, instead of glazing over and neglecting to ask questions: what does Jesus mean? Why did Luke choose to include this