You know what’s so funny and sad about us human beings? . . . We are constantly torn between the all-consuming desire to be loved and the terrifying fear of being known. Deep inside we don’t believe the two things can exist together, that if anyone really knew us, they would surely never love us, so we spend our whole lives concocting this wonderful, plastic shell that we fight like madmen to keep pristine. But eventually the plastic cracks and what is inside is a raw, quivering mass of imperfect humanity that has always been lovely and precious enough for God Himself to love.
–Earlene Fowler, Steps to the Altar*, p. 177.
*Although the title suggests a book about marriage, it is the name of a traditional American quilt pattern, and the book is a crime novel.
That “…raw, quivering mass of imperfect humanity..” is, for good or ill, what I’ve spewed into cyberspace from the old blog over the past three years. Whether God Himself, takes notice, I don’t know. But, hopefully, occasionally a little “…lovely and precious…” creeps out. Why does one blog, after all…