I told you that I spent some time alone in Scotland recently. What I didn’t tell you was about the night I laid in bed in the middle of nowhere while 110-120 mph winds tore at the cabin so ferociously that I was prompted to lean over and grab my phone to ask google:”Do cabin roofs blow off in 120 mph winds”- which is when I learned that I had lost power and with it any connection I had to the outside world. No cell phone. No internet. No electricity. No water. Just Fabs and God and some sheep on a hill (if they survived the storm).
If you’ve ever trained for a marathon: sorry.
If you haven’t: don’t.
Actually ,you know what? The training for the marathon definetly wasn’t the worst part. I learned a lot about discipline and perseverance and such. I remember my first run over 15 miles. I learned a lesson that I promised myself I would never forget. I was SO done and close to the end of my run, so I thought: if I walk for just a minute, it will help me run faster and be done sooner. Big mistake. HUGE.
[If you want to get a free cool bookmark and guide to help you do Spiritual Bootcamp in January, just complete this form!]
We’re getting close to the start of a New Year, so I’ll tell you a couple of things I know to help if you’re a resolution-y sort of person:
1. There is only one thing that is necessary.
2. Time with Jesus matters more than most resolutions on your list.
In light of those three things, here’s my suggestion for your New Year: commit to fighting for time in the Word.
Three years ago today I wrote these words:
I have friends who are like family to me and they’re moving to the other side of the world for the sake of the Gospel. They don’t just say they believe in Jesus and His mission. They have sold their house and all their possessions and, with their 5 month old baby in tow, they’re running full speed to a pretty dangerous place.
Part of the impetus for spiritual bootcamp was “no more excuses.”
The thing about great gifts like the Bible is that it’s easy to take them for granted. You get so used to them you feel no urgent need to exploit them. They become paper weights on your night stand. You assume they will be there waiting for you when you finally hit a season that magically offers both the time and the inclination to dive deeper than you ever have.