<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342</id><updated>2011-09-27T00:31:59.461-07:00</updated><category term='poor'/><category term='bum'/><category term='Mercy'/><category term='generosity'/><category term='Redemption'/><category term='God'/><category term='Prostitute'/><category term='needy'/><category term='Love'/><category term='Jeremiah'/><category term='seattle'/><category term='giving'/><category term='Spirituality'/><category term='Whore'/><category term='proverbs'/><category term='Israel'/><category term='faith'/><category term='compassion'/><category term='Grace'/><category term='money'/><title type='text'>in a mirror dimly :</title><subtitle type='html'>questions and reflections</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-606333457805725994</id><published>2011-09-19T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T14:59:04.125-07:00</updated><title type='text'>8 More Days</title><content type='html'>Till I fly out of SeaTac, headed for Kansas City and the International House of Prayer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be living in the apartments on campus, along with other interns, until next April. &amp;nbsp;It equates to about 6 months of total time spent there, if you take out the Christmas break I'll be spending back in Washington State.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope to blog here often about what I'm learning and experiencing while residing there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then, I need to stay off the computer and get some serious packing done!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-606333457805725994?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/606333457805725994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2011/09/8-more-days.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/606333457805725994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/606333457805725994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2011/09/8-more-days.html' title='8 More Days'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-7121071841543001991</id><published>2010-11-15T17:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T17:14:05.374-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brief thoughts</title><content type='html'>I heard a man speak today, for perhaps, 15 minutes.&amp;nbsp; And before&amp;nbsp;I knew it, I was back at the place that I know well: The knowledge of how far off from where God and I both long for me to be.&lt;br /&gt;There's something missing in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like today confirmed it.&amp;nbsp; It's the love of God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It stands at the center of my unwieldy disposition, my fears, my future, my work ethic...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if it is the Sun, and articles of my life are planets and space debris orbiting it...as if to say, "we're in this mess of a chaotic jumble and we're circling the main issue.&amp;nbsp; Look at the core of your life, and you'll see it&amp;nbsp;too, Wilson."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As with my last post, I reiterate that I am "heading West"figuratively-spiritually...&lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; I've decided to begin looking at physically-really doing that as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone said something this week about "doing God's will is not so much about going where He wants, but more often about doing His will wherever you are."&amp;nbsp; So, I'm considering paths which I had not considered previously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this seems to been the limit for length in which I could term this post "brief thoughts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Farewell, and&amp;nbsp;good hunting to each of you!&lt;br /&gt;~Wilson.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-7121071841543001991?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/7121071841543001991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/11/brief-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/7121071841543001991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/7121071841543001991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/11/brief-thoughts.html' title='Brief thoughts'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-3030480500879574270</id><published>2010-10-28T00:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T00:37:49.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Between the borders</title><content type='html'>This entry could as easily be entitled, "Entangled in the Curtain".&amp;nbsp; Although, at second glance, the word, "entangled," is a bit of a doozy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fact: The term, "doozy"&amp;nbsp;comes from an automobile, called the Duesenberg, built in the early 1900's.&amp;nbsp; The vehicle was known to be very ornate and outlandish.&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;I am not skilled to understand what I am going through.&amp;nbsp; As if stuck between the lands of past and future, I am wavering here, having crossed...and yet, not quite crossed the borders of both.&amp;nbsp; I paused in this state of mind tonight.&amp;nbsp; Thinking on "life" and "stuff"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asking myself, "Where are you going?".&amp;nbsp; Hah! Reminds me of a song I used to sing as part of a children's choir.&amp;nbsp; That seems like another life, watching the images pass through my memory.&amp;nbsp; Maybe the inconclusive nature of these type of thoughts is what drove Solomon to such cold and pruny words in Ecclesiastes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If my life is a vapor...and&amp;nbsp;I am dust returning to dust...&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;These thoughts are only cold beauties.&amp;nbsp; With no heart.&amp;nbsp; Much like a vixen female, they lure me with their shallow stamped eyes and vampiric intentions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Not sure where that came from.&lt;br /&gt;....I'm not removing it though.&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;My heart is so hungry these days.&amp;nbsp; I can't help but feel the urge to grab a girl's hand when she's talking to me, no matter who she is...Or to catch myself daydreaming about having a significant other...just being able to relax into her arms, rest in fullness of love...Everyday my heart longings grow more pronounced.&amp;nbsp; And to this day, I pray them into alignment with what an even deeper craving shouts for.&amp;nbsp; The Reality of the person of God.&amp;nbsp; And His relationship with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I want real Jesus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not letters in a book or sermons or&amp;nbsp;suedo-church clubs that scrape by with teacup sized portions of living water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not made to be tempered and contorted into&amp;nbsp;uniform shapes with others...Like part of some christian garden full of banzai trees, being pruned and meticulously shaped&amp;nbsp;into a lifeless-vegetable-borg army.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was made for mountains with wind rushing over the trees, for rock climbing and shouting, for dancing with recklessness, and sharp, ringing laughter.&amp;nbsp; I was made for abounding life, prancing and leaping within my smile.&amp;nbsp; I was made to be happy.&amp;nbsp; To be consumed with beserker-like passion for love with my King.&amp;nbsp; I was made to be a man of strength and beauty.&amp;nbsp; I know this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;I feel it speaking...deep inside me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always slowly pulsing, like the deeper echo of a heartbeat in my bones, in my core, in...my spirit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart is on a journey "westward", to the uncharted wild lands, to find Jesus.&amp;nbsp; I've packed my proverbial bags and left.&amp;nbsp; I'm going to look for the Spirit of God out in the wilderness.&lt;br /&gt;This is my heart.&lt;br /&gt;This is my plan.&lt;br /&gt;I'm unalterably set on this path.&amp;nbsp; I may be a part of this life, the same as I was yesterday, but if you watch close enough, you'll see my heart is lost out there...wandering in search of God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-3030480500879574270?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/3030480500879574270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/10/between-borders.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/3030480500879574270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/3030480500879574270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/10/between-borders.html' title='Between the borders'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-4892511326286199144</id><published>2010-10-07T23:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T23:40:27.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'>letter to a friend</title><content type='html'>Dearest Jesus,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life is moving at light speed.&amp;nbsp; I feel like we're in the millennium falcon and the stars are rushing past us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to miss out on the amazing things that are happening.&amp;nbsp; I want to slow my senses down and drink in every drop.&lt;br /&gt;I try to believe that it's just a "season of divine acceleration" (haha) and that it will pass.&amp;nbsp; That soon we'll come out of warp speed and I'll have time to walk the autumn color-coated quiet streets and lazily contemplate beauty, romance, and dreams.&amp;nbsp; Doing things like that would be nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want you to know, I think about you often.&amp;nbsp; I long to see your face.&amp;nbsp; I daydream about falling into your arms, and having peace wash over me...in one feel swoop wiping me clean, and leaving me in your warm embrace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand where you're taking me...I know it's toward you, though...always toward you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure my point in writing you tonight, except...perhaps the therapeutic virtues of communicating that which is upon one's heart.&amp;nbsp; Anyway, I'm not looking for easy answers, but I am searching for You.&amp;nbsp; It's hard right now...not being able to touch You.&amp;nbsp; I want what we have to be real and tangible, to speak face to face, to know you like your Father knows you...deeply, intimately, fully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day will come.&amp;nbsp; It just hurts here, until it does.&amp;nbsp; My strongest affections and desires are for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-4892511326286199144?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/4892511326286199144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/10/letter-to-friend.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/4892511326286199144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/4892511326286199144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/10/letter-to-friend.html' title='letter to a friend'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-6105747779746263208</id><published>2010-09-12T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T18:33:25.122-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='needy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='giving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bum'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='generosity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seattle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='proverbs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='compassion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faith'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poor'/><title type='text'>Questions without answers</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;"If a man shuts his ears to the cry of the poor, &lt;br /&gt;he too will cry out and not be answered." &lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;~Proverbs 21:13&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Does this mean...the bum I awkwardly ignore, who smells like alcohol, when he's asking me for money, bothering me in Seattle?...The family that is "homeless," but has been begging at the same place for weeks, &lt;em&gt;apparently&lt;/em&gt; not seeking help elsewhere?...The advertisements on television?...The requests in the back of christian books?...Anyone and everyone who is need?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;I struggle with giving money to those who&amp;nbsp;I believe don't deserve it/will waste it.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Dear Jesus, rend my heart for the meek---no matter what they "deserve".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-6105747779746263208?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/6105747779746263208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/09/questions-without-answers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/6105747779746263208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/6105747779746263208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/09/questions-without-answers.html' title='Questions without answers'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-5994370584427828523</id><published>2010-02-10T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T22:12:10.754-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I must confess...</title><content type='html'>I've had to tell people some hard things this week.&lt;br /&gt;Not hard for them to hear, but hard for me to make my mouth say.&lt;br /&gt;Difficult for My heart&amp;nbsp;to allow (because of Pride and Fear).&lt;br /&gt;I'll get back to this later in this post...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think often of myself as a vessel.&amp;nbsp; or...maybe a fridgerator is a better example.&lt;br /&gt;And all the little hang-ups and hurts that are absorbed in normal life pile up like garish magnets and clips on the fridge door.&amp;nbsp; I really feel, and &lt;em&gt;experience &lt;/em&gt;that confession wipes those things off.&lt;br /&gt;It's really simple I suppose.&amp;nbsp; No mind-boggling christian-ish revelation here. lol.&amp;nbsp; But maybe we mistake simplicity for weakness...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that to say, my point is simple: It is my growing personal belief that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;CONFESSION is the primary means of initiating holiness&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;/div&gt;righteousness, godliness, and other 'ness's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am further persuaded that the power of confession (and to the next degree, repentance) is largely untapped in the lives of God-seeking&amp;nbsp;Christians today.&amp;nbsp; Often times Confession and Repentance seem to just be meer&lt;em&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/em&gt;steping-stones to the 'other stuff' of Christianity.&amp;nbsp; &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;believe that confession is so powerful and effective, that it is to be the backbone of a separated, spiritual lifestyle, in the midst of a carnal, physical world.&amp;nbsp; Confession is intimated linked to the &lt;strong&gt;power &lt;/strong&gt;and the &lt;strong&gt;righteousness&lt;/strong&gt; of Christ. Exhibit A:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;James 5:15&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Confession and power are associated in the same verse.&amp;nbsp; I don't know, something to think about...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Let me further elaborate. Those little things that pile up are, furthermore, like weeds. If you don't remove the root, or if you ignore the growing issue, sooner than you could have imagined...it overwhelms the scenery.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And confession can be the hand-trowel, or the bulldozer (depending on the strength of your weed problem) you need to redecorate...so-to-speak. Breaking from the worldly parellels, I believe Confession, like much of our God-given activities has far-reaching consequences outside of just the life of the confessor.&lt;br /&gt;Exhibit B:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Daniel 9:20-21&lt;br /&gt;While I was speaking and praying, confessing my sin and the sin of my people Israel and making my request to the LORD my God for his holy hill-&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;While I was still in prayer, Gabriel, the man I had seen in the earlier vision, came to me in swift flight about the time of the evening sacrifice.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about the link between confession and the visitation (and really all that followed).&lt;br /&gt;My personal confessions have largely been in relation to bitterness.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Bitterness is all about holding on.&amp;nbsp; Confession is all about letting go.&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;How much are we holding onto that keeps us from walking in the freedom and power&amp;nbsp;God desires to give us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to hack the post off here, and end in simply stating: &lt;br /&gt;I think power of confession is largely overlooked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-5994370584427828523?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/5994370584427828523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-must-confess.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/5994370584427828523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/5994370584427828523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-must-confess.html' title='I must confess...'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-212452270492020082</id><published>2010-02-06T16:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T16:28:16.186-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Redemption'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Whore'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spirituality'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeremiah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mercy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Prostitute'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Israel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>The Heart-Wrenching Treachery of Israel</title><content type='html'>Jeremiah 1-5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(4:19) "Oh, my anguish, my anguish!&amp;nbsp; I writhe in pain."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I was struck, bitterly struck, by the first chapters of Jeremiah.&amp;nbsp; Let me explain.&lt;br /&gt;(basic summary: Israel was the favored child of God, they gave up that position to seek fake gods)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I understand first and foremost, the intense power it took to create me...The vast insight and creativity to form me...The sheer greatness of the act of my creation...And the diligent, tender&amp;nbsp;care with which God oversees his people...All the words of God begin to come into focus much more clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(2:7a) I brought you into a fertile land to eat its fruit and rich produce...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(2:21a) I had planted you like a choice vine of sound a reliable stock...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having taken that knowledge of my inception, it is a piercing blow to my heart, reading the first chapters of Jeremiah.&amp;nbsp; I can empathize with the fierce anger that burns within God at seeing his people turn from Him.&amp;nbsp; It is as if they, ignoring His presence in the room, turn and give credit of their blessed circumstances to another.&amp;nbsp; How rude! How horrible! How traitorous!&amp;nbsp; To further condemn them in their acts of disloyalty, it's not just &lt;em&gt;any&lt;/em&gt; other they turn to, but one who is so far below the stature of God! It would be like thanking the &lt;u&gt;fly in the window&lt;/u&gt; on the morning of December 25th for all the Christmas gifts you receive!&lt;br /&gt;It is a preposterous thought, an insane and ridiculous&amp;nbsp;notion, but Israel has committed this sin again and &lt;em&gt;again!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(2:11-12) Has a nation ever changed its gods? (Yet they are not gods at all.) But my people have exchanged their Glory for worthless idols.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Be appalled at this, O heavens, and shudder with great horror," declares the Lord.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(2:27a) They say to wood, 'You are my father,' and to stone, 'You gave me birth.'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(2:19b) Consider then and realize how evil and bitter it is for you when you forsake the Lord your God and have no awe of me," declares the Lord, the Lord almighty.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having given credit where it is &lt;strong&gt;NOT&lt;/strong&gt; due, they were &lt;em&gt;comfortable&lt;/em&gt; in this sin.&amp;nbsp; They refused to acknowledge wrong-doing.&amp;nbsp; They stayed in their wickedness, they settled in, they made a home there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(2:25b) ...But you said, 'It's no use! I love foreign gods, and I must go after them.'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time came, however, when things turned sour.&amp;nbsp; Their childish ignorance turned to childish tantrums.&amp;nbsp; They wanted God to save them, console and comfort them, just like old times.&amp;nbsp; Israel raged against God, they ignorantly forgot their wayward lives, their rebellious history of stinking sin.&amp;nbsp; They were blind as moles...Content to play in the dirt till it suited them no longer.&amp;nbsp; They pitied themselves, crying out for saving; wailing, turning bitter and casting accusations&amp;nbsp;upon their God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(2:27b) ...yet when they are in trouble, they say, 'Come and save us!'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(2:29) "Why do you bring charges against me?&amp;nbsp; You have all rebelled against me," declares the Lord.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen to how God sees the His beloved acting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(2:23b-24)&amp;nbsp;You are a swift she-camel running here and there, a wild donkey accustomed to the desert, sniffing the wind in her craving---in her heat who can restrain her?&amp;nbsp; Any males that pursue her need not tire themselves; at mating time they will find her.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(2:33) How skilled you are at pursuing love!&amp;nbsp; Even the worst of women can learn from your ways.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(3:2b) Is there any place where you have not been ravished?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(3:2c) By the roadside you sat waiting for lovers...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(3:3b) Yet you have the brazen look of a prostitute; you refuse to blush with shame.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over and over again, Israel is described as the most&amp;nbsp;heinous of philanderers, the most putrid of whores...&lt;br /&gt;And then He says, "Return to me."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;God just decides to redeem them.&amp;nbsp; They turn from their idols and repent.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They weep and cry out in anguished repentance, and God takes them back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(3:12) ..."Return, faithless Israel,' declares the Lord, 'I will frown on you no longer, for I am merciful,' declares the Lord, 'I will not be angry forever...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During this process of calling them back to Him, he gives promises of safety, prosperity, and righteousness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Israel is willfully disrepectful and unfaithful, and God leaves them to the just reward of their sins (for a&amp;nbsp;time).&amp;nbsp; The story ends, though, with&amp;nbsp;salvation, redemption, a returning to their first love: God.&lt;br /&gt;He is a righteous judge and an extreme lover.&lt;br /&gt;It is the most&amp;nbsp;tremendous of logical paradoxes: Just &lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;and&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Loving???&amp;nbsp; Israel destroyed every miniscule bit of credibility they had with the Lord, grinding it to dust, and yet...And yet He chooses them in the midst of their clothes stained with lust, their homes filled with abominations, and their lives saturated in sin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't&amp;nbsp;His furious love&amp;nbsp;just make you wanna weep?...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry to write longer than normal, but I felt "the heat" (that biting urge to write, inspired with passion and zeal and angst).&amp;nbsp; I hope you read it and were touched.&amp;nbsp; May God bless you with increased understanding of His Love for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-212452270492020082?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/212452270492020082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/02/heart-wrenching-treachery-of-israel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/212452270492020082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/212452270492020082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/02/heart-wrenching-treachery-of-israel.html' title='The Heart-Wrenching Treachery of Israel'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-448429489157018700</id><published>2010-01-30T19:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T19:21:47.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Words as actions.</title><content type='html'>I'll be brief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I revelated (heh, yeah I think&amp;nbsp;I just made that word up) something, 9 days ago.&amp;nbsp; I was sitting in the bottom room of Larry Gibbs' house, among the many furnitures and in the quiet aftermath of hours of soaking music.&amp;nbsp; I had asked for him if it was okay for&amp;nbsp;us to spend some time in quiet.&amp;nbsp; And so: quiet time, we spent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...See I had come that night with something a bit off.&amp;nbsp; You know that "off" feeling I'm talking about.&amp;nbsp; It can be unforgiveness, an idol you've allowed in your life, or simply not abiding in God when he has wanted&amp;nbsp;you to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I lay down and waited, with a heart - stance of &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"&lt;span style="color: #660000; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;PLEADING&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"&gt;crying out that you move&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;/&lt;/span&gt;touch me oh God&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #b6d7a8;"&gt;I'm desperate to be in the midst of your presence&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: black;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;I hunger for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;You!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;"&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/S2Tv7hJ6FjI/AAAAAAAAAC0/tbS5jLQS6og/s1600-h/prostrate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="204" kt="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/S2Tv7hJ6FjI/AAAAAAAAAC0/tbS5jLQS6og/s320/prostrate.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I don't know how long it was that I had been in a waiting stance that night (up until the point of asking for quiet)...but probably 3 minutes into the quiet of that room,&amp;nbsp;I heard God speak into my mind. "Go home fulfilled"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, this is the moment I want to focus on.&amp;nbsp; Because God had spoken the words saying what I should be, but AT THE SAME TIME, &lt;span style="color: #f1c232;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;made&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; me what&amp;nbsp;I should be. I became fulfilled.&amp;nbsp; And thus I realized that inherent in God's speaking of promises/commands is the actual work of what the promise/command declares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He does both at once!&amp;nbsp; The provision for the working out of what he has promised christians is GIVEN and set out in the moment that the promise is spoken.&amp;nbsp; (sidenote: I realize God is eternal and this description doesn't work well with theological thoughts of God/time/when but you'll have to give me grace for that :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: lime; font-size: x-large;"&gt;*Now &lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;that's&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt; multitasking!*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO! If we are to &lt;u&gt;run&lt;/u&gt; with this thought, this&lt;em&gt;&amp;nbsp;TRUTH&lt;/em&gt; about God, I can say that when God has promised me a future of speaking to the nations about his Gospel, He has made the way for that.&amp;nbsp; given me everything I need for that.&amp;nbsp; mental struggles of my ability, preparedness, choices, timing, etc need to be CEASED and &lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;silenced...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am ready. You are ready.&amp;nbsp; We have been made ready for each "mission" and "leading" of God in our lives, by his very word of telling us to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When God tells me that I need only speak what is in my heart during a message in front of 75&amp;nbsp;teenagers at a youth winter retreat in 14 days, He is saying that He has chosen me for that.&amp;nbsp; He has prepared me for that.&amp;nbsp;And all the &lt;em&gt;details&lt;/em&gt; (so-to-speak) have been seen to. completed. finished.&lt;br /&gt;hmmmm.&lt;br /&gt;something to think about.&lt;br /&gt;or better yet, to agree upon, and walk in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I lied.&amp;nbsp; I wasn't quite "brief" hahaha, but I'm sure you're all the better because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I almost forgot.&amp;nbsp; The best part of the night was the 45 minutes that followed that revelation with joyful thanksgiving flowing from my heart.&amp;nbsp; It's so cool to me that God blesses &lt;em&gt;us&lt;/em&gt; by making the act of&amp;nbsp;blessing&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;Him&lt;/em&gt; so euphoric, and satisfying to our souls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/S2T2KldiukI/AAAAAAAAAC8/QSaRD1cb_7c/s1600-h/Hands-upraised_Praise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" kt="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/S2T2KldiukI/AAAAAAAAAC8/QSaRD1cb_7c/s400/Hands-upraised_Praise.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-448429489157018700?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/448429489157018700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/01/words-as-actions.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/448429489157018700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/448429489157018700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/01/words-as-actions.html' title='Words as actions.'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/S2Tv7hJ6FjI/AAAAAAAAAC0/tbS5jLQS6og/s72-c/prostrate.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-4170914496458196452</id><published>2010-01-16T13:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T15:09:24.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I've learned</title><content type='html'>Nehemiah made confession for his whole nation/people.  God blessed him and used him to lead his people back into right relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can I do the same for my people?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some, we have to be different to become what we're meant to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's lonely sometimes, but it's fulfilling, always.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hard things must be done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The outcome makes it worth it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spiritual Health is something to be maintained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Continually resisting evil is necessary.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I got my hair cut into a mohawk by a silly Filipino woman.&lt;br /&gt;I went to Wal-mart, bought two boxes of hairdye.&lt;br /&gt;I went home and spent the next 2 hours-ish changing the color of my mohawk to fiery orange with red tips.&lt;br /&gt;Friends, family and pets have been doing double-takes ever since.  They don't recognize me at first.  The dogs bark and the people exclaim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want my heart to be a spiritual fiery-colored mohawk.  Blatantly open in it's statement of faith: &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"I am bold.  I am strong. I am confident. And I burnnnnn with purpose."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-4170914496458196452?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/4170914496458196452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-ive-learned.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/4170914496458196452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/4170914496458196452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-ive-learned.html' title='What I&apos;ve learned'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-3839206013363163523</id><published>2010-01-08T16:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T16:27:48.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>At Least It's Not Raining Butter.</title><content type='html'>This isn't a story about the brighter side of things, or greener grass.&lt;br /&gt;I see green grass all the time in Washington state.  (Though brightness isn't something to be expected in the winter here...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's frustrating to do hard things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking to lost, misfit people is like trying to catch a frisbee with oven-mitts on.&lt;br /&gt;But nonetheless, talk I do.  Because it's the lost ones that I want to engage.---the ones who fit into society as well as a square peg in a round nostril.  Even if they somehow wedge themselves in, it's super uncomfortable for the nose!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The posers deserve my attention.  my valid conversation. my honest heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The overlooked and ashamed, that's who I'm hoping to get to know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The embroiled and the blind need my compassion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The idiots too.  They need patient understanding from me.  As hard as it is for me to say, those "idiots" who I can't help but rage at, within my heart, they need what I've been given.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not doing a great job by my own standards, yet.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just telling you what I see on the horizen.&lt;br /&gt;I am called to be a Shepherd of God's people.  And that means I leave the 99...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmm.&lt;br /&gt;...I wonder what that feels like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-3839206013363163523?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/3839206013363163523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/01/at-least-its-not-raining-butter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/3839206013363163523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/3839206013363163523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2010/01/at-least-its-not-raining-butter.html' title='At Least It&apos;s Not Raining Butter.'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-7184838148551033777</id><published>2009-11-14T10:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T11:19:03.438-08:00</updated><title type='text'>of Desires.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"My soul thirsts for God&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;  For the &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Living GOD!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  When can I go and meet with &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Him?!&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(emphasis mine) ~Psalm 42:2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm unaware of how many others feel when it comes to the desires of &lt;em&gt;their&lt;/em&gt; hearts, but I'm becoming more intensely aware of my own desires.  I've discovered that I have a craving which defies description or definition.  Words like &lt;em&gt;hunger&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;thirst&lt;/em&gt; seem inadequate to represent this...driving desire.  &lt;em&gt;Yearning&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;longing&lt;/em&gt; come closer to it, but to be truthful, even they seem paltry in comparison to the actual feeling that growls and strains within me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I credit my life in God with the leading of my heart by this insatiable hunger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My own desires can end up leading me to walk a line which I oft' fail to balance upon.  I end up tumbling with painful and injurious consequences.&lt;br /&gt;However, this unidentifiable appetite ever leads me to &lt;em&gt;God&lt;/em&gt;.  Like a compass that can't help but point North, His spirit in me discerns the right path.  Imposters end up being shown for what they are; other things just don't satisfy the way You do, God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ever more of You in me, God.  Let my desire be refined till it shines pure and soft for the One and True fulfillment.  Let my spirit be lead like a deer to water, ever more, ever more.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-7184838148551033777?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/7184838148551033777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/11/of-desires.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/7184838148551033777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/7184838148551033777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/11/of-desires.html' title='of Desires.'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-265729693555077074</id><published>2009-10-06T16:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T20:44:04.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'>smoke and fire poem</title><content type='html'>I rush in like&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wheres the fire?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't see the flames&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for the smoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bust in with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;good intentions,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;living water,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but I choke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wheres the exit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;burnt scorched feet,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;repleat with guilt,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;where they've walked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the strongholds I've built,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shells of dark worry populate and fill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my hurried hasty heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh say, Can we see,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the freedom we need?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do failures build mountains,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or just build our grief?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When winter has come will we live&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or let go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been through the season, and now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I know. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-265729693555077074?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/265729693555077074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/10/smoke-and-fire-poem.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/265729693555077074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/265729693555077074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/10/smoke-and-fire-poem.html' title='smoke and fire poem'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-6971343303166290868</id><published>2009-07-14T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T20:36:02.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pushing through the Crowd.</title><content type='html'>in my life, its easy to get distracted.&lt;br /&gt;nothing new, right?&lt;br /&gt;we all do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WELL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heres the rub, and its a bad one.&lt;br /&gt;not like a massage, or a gentle pat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this now, that God has a creative and unique path for my life.&lt;br /&gt;I have a specific set of problems and strengths, friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;I am not living out a textbook or template.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A piece of paper told me that I'd improve my effectiveness by "Declaring".&lt;br /&gt;Heres a declaration: I don't know about where i'm going, but i'm dreaming and leaving the rest to God.  Call it impractical, but I'm trusting in this venture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get distracted by paths, giftings, hints of possibilities for my future, but the truth is that I must remain centered on Christ.  it's simple but true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how I'm going to learn the skills necessary to be the man I want to be,&lt;br /&gt;But I do know a Man who I was made in the image of.  And to my credit, he's actively at work in my life.  Distractions in the form of self-progress come my way more often than you'd guess, but I must stay focussed.  "run the race" you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's another declaration:&lt;br /&gt;(this isn't a fierce rub like the previous.  It's more of a brain massage)&lt;br /&gt;Being open to the odd leadings often leads to beautiful, big, heart changing experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thank you for reading.&lt;br /&gt;that is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-6971343303166290868?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/6971343303166290868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/07/pushing-through-crowd.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/6971343303166290868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/6971343303166290868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/07/pushing-through-crowd.html' title='Pushing through the Crowd.'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-1295584142339531125</id><published>2009-05-04T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T16:52:17.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Step Two</title><content type='html'>(This entry is an old draft, from several months ago, that I saved and never posted. I've gone back and finished it for your viewing pleasure.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a while since we last spoke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The craziest thing about being vulnerable is the results! surprising!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work with three women, they all have 2-3 kids, families, etc. This one co-worker in particular was having a rough couple days (she's going through menopause). I don't know exactly what that means, but she reminds me often that she IS going through it, so I imagine its unpleasant in the least. Anyway, I was praying for her one night as I lay in bed, just conversationally talking to God about helping her...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I got this idea to write her a letter. So I sat up, clicked on the light, and began writing. I told her what I appreciated about her and ended with a short bit of prayer for her. The next day I left it on her desk before she got into work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that day, I walked into her office looking for a certain product, and as I shuffled through items, she said, "Thank you for your thoughts in that letter. It was sweet."&lt;br /&gt;...I turned and said said, "You're welcome", and found myself facing a pair of eyes that weren't purely thankful...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She paused, as if waiting for me to respond with more, and when I did not, she pressed in further. "You make it seem like I'm going through hell. I'm doing fine. I'm just going through &lt;em&gt;menopause&lt;/em&gt;."  (The last word, "menopause" spoken with a bit more emphasis than the rest.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I replied that I hadn't been trying to imply anything of the sort, and I apologized for how my words affected her.   The conversation ended awkwardly and it took her a few days to get back to treating me normally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the story, and here is the concluding thought:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is an example of ME, doing something outside my comfort zone.  I usually don't like doing stuff like giving a heartfelt letter to a co-worker for fear of reactions like the one she had. ha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It actually wasn't that bad though; it didn't affect me like I thought it would.  I feared being honest and sincere like that because I thought a bad reaction would wreck and batter my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not too say that it was warm and fuzzy all over; it kinda sucked, being honest and friendly and have it taken completely different than expected.  But I guess I ended up feeling okay with it, because I did my best to make good of the situation.  In fact, you could say I was proud of myself after that.  That day was a step in the right direction for the growth and maturity of my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;more later. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-1295584142339531125?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/1295584142339531125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/05/step-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/1295584142339531125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/1295584142339531125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/05/step-two.html' title='Step Two'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-7992464192751001419</id><published>2009-04-12T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T19:08:28.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Step One: It starts with confidence.</title><content type='html'>I've packed my proverbial bags and set my metaphorical step,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the first mile marker on this journey around the world (of self-discovery) is Step One: Confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lot of faith to do things. I generalize the term: "things," because each person is different. For me: going to a crowded party and interacting with the huge group bit by bit in those awkward little 3 minute conversations with typical forced laughter at the unwieldy jokes and queer mannerisms and eating the weird snacks that the host has chosen as some cheap attempt at high-browed culture...THAT takes confidence. For others, that'd be easy, and even fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided: &lt;strong&gt;I have confidence&lt;/strong&gt; that things will be alright if I do something which scares me. So, I'm trying to do "things" which scare me. And it begins by &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;trying&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I have confidence that if I try one little adventure in vulnerability, I'll be okay. And to add to that statement, I have hope that if I keep trying I'll find out wonderful things and grow as a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Future (of unknowns). I don't know where I'm going.  (&lt;em&gt;I guess, this blog won't actually talk about my growth  in confidence, but it'll begin by telling you about the lack of.  I apologize for impeding your closure-hungry hearts, and prattling on about this pre-topic: topic&lt;/em&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---I have often heard it said that Men should have a plan. I've heard &lt;strong&gt;Preachers&lt;/strong&gt; telling women to: "stay away from &lt;em&gt;indecisive&lt;/em&gt; Men." ...People that spread and purvey advise like that &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;scare&lt;/span&gt; me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Because I don't know where I am going. Not that I don't have a plan...It's just that, were I to be ask my plan, I'd answer, "I'm working a part time job and enjoying life, and I feel like that's where God wants me right now, so I'm going to keep doing it and wait to see what He has for my future." And that, my friends, doesn't sound like much of a plan at all. In fact, if you boil it down, my plan is to wait for God to tell me His plan. HA! That sounds much better when I put it that way...It seems to convey a sense of spiritual security and confidence...&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;em&gt;which is what I'm going for!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...I'll end with a question, "What will it take for &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; to move forward with your future?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;let the pondering begin...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-7992464192751001419?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/7992464192751001419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/04/step-one-it-starts-with-confidence.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/7992464192751001419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/7992464192751001419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/04/step-one-it-starts-with-confidence.html' title='Step One: It starts with confidence.'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6747989097786655342.post-3542604185353769744</id><published>2009-03-21T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T13:41:37.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vulnerability...what?</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I was crying to the LORD with my voice, And He &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;answered me from &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;His holy mountain. Selah.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;*In remembrance of Joey Salas*&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sat across from me, his dark eyes seeming restless and non-commital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The posture of his body in an oddly comfortable, yet contorted position.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said he thought that I had just this &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;tiny&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;block&lt;/span&gt; that was holding me back from being strong, and free, and living the life i was created to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That quintessential &lt;strong&gt;man&lt;/strong&gt;, who is confident and assured, with purpose and power...that &lt;strong&gt;man&lt;/strong&gt; seems so close, as if held back and bound by a string of mere twine. (this part was my own embellishment, but I'm sure Joey would give his approval, were he here today.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night ended with popcorn and shows on TLC about wedding dresses, but before we drove away from the church where we had reclined and "chilled", AND before we had left the parking lot of Casa Roja's...he told me something I'd always known about myself, but had little understanding of how to address.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pointed right at my heart, open and ungaurded in his discerning eyes, and said,&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; "&lt;em&gt;I think you need to be more &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;vulnerable&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agreed, with little emotion to the contrary, and we moved on in our conversational path, beginning some odd argument/battle/dialogue over "the heart of spiritual warfare."  We wrestled over it for quite some time before it was remedied by the wise third party word's of Hanna, Joey's Fiance. She was in the middle of eating Juan's burrito, but she cleared up what we THOUGHT was a disagreement, with little difficulty. (By the way, we're not sure who &lt;strong&gt;Juan&lt;/strong&gt; is, but his burrito is siiiick!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I digress.   Back on track.  &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Vulnerability&lt;/span&gt;.  This morning, in Growth Group, for the college age youth at our church, Rhonda began talking about bondage, and how she wanted us to go into a prolonged study of Christ's promises to us, in relation to bondage we are under. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hate vulnerability, but I want it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I want it SO bad!&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm SO hungry for this person I am to be righted.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;For my heart to be satisfied.&lt;/span&gt; For my life to be one of love and rejoicing!&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I thirst for depth and truth!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of the discussion that followed the Rhonda's introduction into our new study, I was left with frustration brimming over the mixing pot of my heart. My frustration stemmed from the comparison of the present state of hearts &lt;em&gt;with&lt;/em&gt; this dream of mine: I want the body of believers, in which I am a part, to be &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;truthful&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; in their thoughts and feelings, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;open&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; to being wrong and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;willing&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;to change, and most of all, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;loving&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; in their approach to resolving this very apparent need of accountability &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; freedom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This first post is simply to begin a passage from a clammed up, scared person, to one who is confident and &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;vulnerable&lt;/span&gt; with support and accountability.  A roadmarker, if you will, at the start of a wonderful journey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;stay tuned...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6747989097786655342-3542604185353769744?l=wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/feeds/3542604185353769744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/03/vulnerabilitywhat.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/3542604185353769744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6747989097786655342/posts/default/3542604185353769744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilsonpruiett.blogspot.com/2009/03/vulnerabilitywhat.html' title='Vulnerability...what?'/><author><name>Wilson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14096665659660185540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fEYTeXbG1r0/SeJ_gH6TzpI/AAAAAAAAAB8/7P5qUqQ0flU/S220/the+swalling+rock.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
