One sentence from a comment on my last entry keeps coming back to me:
“A man was meant to be doubtful about himself, but undoubting about the truth; this has been exactly reversed.” (G.K. Chesterton)
When I came across a small poem that I had written about a year ago and considered my daily struggles, it seemed an example of how I must doubt my sinful self and cling evermore so firmly to the saving truth that brings joy and confidence. This salvation is not a past tense thing, it is a continuous present tense thing:
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