Late one night, a few weeks back, I whizzed down a California freeway with my A.C. blasting and a radio preacher’s voice blaring. My eyelids felt heavy, like they were weighted down with mud — the same thick mud I felt I had been trudging through all week.
And then the preacher’s voice rumbled, loud and unhindered:
“You’ve got to hunger for the Truth!” he said. “You’ve got to long to be in the Word!”
And my soul — the soul that’s learned to love Jesus for 26 years — felt nothing. No longing; no hunger. Nothing but the weight of that viscid mud.
This content is restricted to site members. If you are already registered, please log in. New users may create an account below.