When I empty myself of myself there is room for the Spirit to dwell. For I am not but iniquity, full of failure and lies. I know that when you look upon me, I seem like a good man, but when I see myself superimposed on the model of True Man, one Jesus Christ, it is clear that I am all lack. That I am a twisted reed blowing in the wind, that took root in nothing until my Lord picked me from the dirt. I know that I have done nothing good in and of myself, for goodness — true goodness — is unknown to those who are blind, like me, only a perhaps random consequence to his stumbling around. For when I empty myself of myself, and the Spirit comes like wings upon my heart, truly I may be a child of the Most High, I who though sometimes rebellious and stupid, knows to Whom he belongs. Who knows the voice of his Lord when He calls, to whatever end.
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