This was posted originally five years ago. I needed to hear it again. Maybe you do too. Guilty. Beyond a reasonable doubt. No other logical explanation. The proof is smeared on the hands. Look at them. There are traces of red remaining. Murderer. That spike split skin and vessels and cartilage and tendons. And not only once but three times. Blood spewed from the impact of the hammer. The hand holding the spike is splattered. Skin and metal piercing the wood. The eyes of the one being nailed to the very tree of death watched every move. Knowing all too…
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A building? A temple? A synagogue? A chapel? A sanctuary? No. A heart. A soul. A spirit. A place of seeking to praise Him and offering complete devotion. Completeness with Him; in Him; only through Him; by Him. Sitting, standing, kneeling, bowing, hands clasped, hands outstretched, lying face down, lying face up in solitude, in a crowd, with one or two. With or without music. Allowing all thoughts to rest on Him. Dwelling in a place spiritually that is unmatched in any other position. Being saturated with Him. Posturing physically to dwell spiritually. Taking an outward expression to prepare for…