This is the God of the gospel of grace. A God who, out of love for us, sent the only Son He ever had wrapped in our skin. He learned how to walk, stumbled and fell, cried for His milk, sweated blood in the night, was lashed with a whip and showered with spit, was fixed to a cross, and died whispering forgiveness on us all.

There is a beautiful transparency to honest disciples who never wear a false face and do not pretend to be anything but who they are.

We even refuse to be our true self with God- and then wonder why we lack intimacy with him.

We are made for Christ, and nothing less will ever satisfy us.

My deepest awareness of myself is that I am deeply loved by Jesus Christ and I have done nothing to earn it or deserve it.

Jesus hung out with ragamuffins.

When being is divorced from doing, pious thoughts become an adequate substitute for washing dirty feet.