God, help me, too! (Mark 8)
If I am honest, when I do not write, it is not because I have not felt a whisper in my spirit to speak or even at times a compulsion; when I do not write it is because writing requires more effort than I want or have to expend. Today I write because it is too hard not to do so. My heart is full, and be warned that it is about to spill over onto this page. As I’ve studied Mark (particularly chapter eight this past week) and seen Jesus show his disciples clearly who He is and what He can do over and over again; as I’ve seen Jesus demonstrate His faithfulness to a faithless group of Pharisees—even a nation, a particular people He chose for His very own; as I’ve found myself at the same time reading Jeremiah in my quiet time and coming to the same verses used in Mark 8, my heart breaks, and I keep hearing a refrain from a Plumb song: “God, help me!” over and over again with a new understanding of the words. Some background might be helpful. This past week has felt a little l