This all happened on a ferry last summer. I was traveling between spaces, and I was weeping. I thought I would hide in the bathroom until I stopped, but I emerged and fell apart again. I didn’t want to walk all the way back to the bathroom and parade my grief before strangers a second time, so I sat on a bench, as children and couples passed. I cried for the whole hour.
Read MoreI don't know about you, but during this time of lockdown, I have actually found it harder to be consistent with my quiet time rather than easier. It should seem the opposite, shouldn't it? Now that many of our social plans, outings, and even regular work hours are disrupted, shouldn't it be easier than ever before to come before the Lord? To carve out that time?
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