Hanging Out On The Porch
For the better part of my adult life, I have described my spiritual journey like I was on the front porch of a house. I was outside, looking inside, at what a real relationship with God was like. The problem was that I wouldn’t go inside. I thought there had to be another level of feeling or something that I was missing. Too many things seemed too routine or ritualized for what I thought real meant. My spiritual walk was way too much walk and not enough spirit. I’m not sure why I wouldn’t go in: maybe it would be weird inside; maybe I wouldn’t fit in; maybe I wasn’t good enough.