Are any of us perfect?
That's the question I keep asking myself each time that religious crowd directs their boney fingers my direction. They're pointing out my imperfections.
I know I've made mistakes. I know what I've done. Some of it has been public. Most has been private. I don't need you to use me as an example of how great you are.
You know, I hear your loudly spoken prayers. I hear you thanking God you aren't like me. If only you knew my heart. If only you could know how desperate I am for God to fix my failures.
Fortunately, I have found a solution to the junk in my life. His name is Jesus.
I am His disciple.
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