Over the course of the last few years, I’ve found myself repenting from my chronic unwillingness to share the gospel of Jesus Christ on a daily basis. Much of the scaffolding of life has surrounded my de-conditioned heart so as to insulate it from feeling the sting of my fundamental disobedience and fear of man.
But, really, what is more important than making disciples? Of holding out a lifebuoy for the drowning, a breath of air for the submerged, a extinguishment for the burning, a calming shalom for the utterly bereft?
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