Need
I write this blog for myself more than anything. Many times I sit down with the intent to create a story or personal testimony that will affect someone else in a positive or convicting way. I like to turn mundane occurrences into experiential life lessons. But it seems that, more often than not, these stories refuse to fit the mold I try to shape them into. More often than not, these stories are written for me, and for me only. It seems that whatever I write evolves into a story tailored to fit me and my personal struggles. The problem with this, however, is that it often leads to very real feelings of conviction. Sometimes I read back through my previous blog entries and find myself wondering why I acted the way I did in those situations. Sometimes I approve of my past actions, and other times I am utterly ashamed or angry that I have ever done such a thing. This entry is about the latter feelings of remorse and helplessness. I am a sinner. I am broken beyond repair, and the...