“I’ve got a wife who is serious about the Lord,” Jessup said.
“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” the counselor said.
“No… I mean, yes, it’s a good thing I reckon. But I mean really serious about Him. To the point where she won’t let me say certain things without rebutting them. And, to me, these things are nice; they speak my heart, but she won’t hear me.”
“Things like what?” the counselor searched.
“Well, I said the other day that I want her to be the biggest part of me. She was nice about it, but she definitely said that is something she can’t do. She said God needs to be the biggest part of me.”
“And so he does,” answered the counselor. “But you didn’t agree with that?”
“Oh, now don’t you start on me,” Jessup cautioned, a bit defensively. “I don’t see where it’s wrong for a husband to put trust in his wife, especially when she’s a pastor.”
“Yes, but that’s not what you said to her,” the counselor rebutted. “You made a sweeping statement about giving her the biggest part of you or something, right?”
“I said I want her to be the biggest part of me, yes. What’s so wrong with that?” Jessup queried.
“Nothing, if you don’t take God as seriously as you say she does, Jessup. Really… what did you expect her to say?”
The new husband paused a moment, shifted position in his chair, and formed his answer…
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Sonnets, stories, and books reside within all of us. They also reside within me.
They kiss each other and praise God the Father. They use wisdom and knowledge and understanding to find their way out of me.
I sing praise to the Lord for the praises in each of His children. I sing praise to Jesus for the love of the Father within me.
My sonnets bow with praise, my stories spout His forgiveness, and books fill the shelves of magnifications to His Name!
There’s a sonnet alive in all of us reaching passionately around the neck of the Father. And roses drop their petals at the mention of His Name.
“Praise to the Father, praise to the Son, praise to the Spirit – the Three Who are One. Praise He Who calls butterflies forth from cocoon, and died for our new life, and IS coming soon!”
Bring Your works up and out of me, O, God and let my pen praise You always in writing’s phrases and notebook pages, from now into Eternity.
God has shown me the folly of this world, the wasteful array of its pursuits, the trouble it breeds.
Before I paid attention I was part of all its frenzy… of its lusts and deception… of the dark and wearied places.
But when Light truly shined upon my face in ways that I could understand… I changed.
When humility sheathed me in its breast – I recovered… and lived.
The “lie” of life is that God does not exist and does not care. Cruel deception says He does not intervene in the affairs of men.
But He does.
And desperate caring from His unerring Breath of Life rekindled the refuse of my dust to flames of holiness. I have been set apart for blessing and I know it. Now I behold His Face.