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Some nights, I wonder if you ever wonder if you were wrong.
If He did indeed die on the cross and rise on the third day … then that should make a difference in your life.
Because sometimes, I doubt. Never the presence of God, but occasionally I wonder … what if someone made it all up?
And I wonder if you wonder, what if they didn’t?
That tiny word faith fills my heart, and I don’t believe I can get through the day without Jesus. I don’t believe I deserve anything but hell but live a grace-filled life despite of circumstances. A life that will be eternal, not stopped by the failed body.
I often wonder about you, who said you believed this, who was sprinkled or dunked or catechized. And then poof, that spark, it died.
Do you ever want to resuscitate it?
I wonder if you ever wonder if you are wrong.