Last night I was feeling inadequate, unable to work on the book I’ve been writing. Dissatisfied with everything, I decided to get into bed where I thought: Listen, God, I don’t know if you’re there. The little bit of evidence I have would never hold up in a court of law down here. But if you are, could you send me a sign? Just a little one. It doesn’t have to be a bolt of lightning. You don’t have to move a mountain.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqHEq_QiYgBvnFxyODp7dPxLwWPq1oO1knB-Nn2UTcrZVVlGWSq_efeQIeB4rTicdRUWLA1jLhu9CxiiwW0Z8HW9gSxH0VEw939ttBoPMsaBvZ54Y1opdPqJnHL1kkJYB3nz9db8cbA/s200/dreamstime_s_65039035.jpg)
I listened to Dr. King and then I went home and sat in front of my computer and started to write. Thank you God I said when I was finished. And Thank you Martin, I added. Oh, and Martin, it doesn’t surprise me one bit that the voice of God sounds a lot like yours.
No comments:
Post a Comment