Are the Pauline epistles infallible?



What follows is a chapter from Jim Palmer's book, Inner Anarchy. It is about the writings of Paul in the New Testament. If I were a better writer, I would have written these same words. Here are a few clips from it that I particularly liked followed by Palmer's chapter 
Christianity as we know it is the product of a long historical development, and no individual shaped that development more than Paul.
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Western Christianity, whether Catholic or Protestant, is fundamentally Pauline in its assumptions and structure.
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Perhaps Paul's most consequential move was interpreting the Roman execution of Jesus through the lens of sacrificial atonement. The Jewish image of the Passover lamb became the model through which Jesus was understood as the Lamb of God whose blood removed the sins of humanity.
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Yet none of this requires hostility toward Paul. He was not attempting to create an infallible religion for future civilizations. 
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The problem is not Paul. The problem is what later generations did with Paul. It was the Church, not Paul, that elevated his correspondence into the infallible Word of God.
Here is Palmer's writing in full.



Modern Christianity is largely Pauline Christianity

That statement is not an attack on Paul. It is simply a recognition of history. The central creeds of Christianity contain remarkably little of the ethical teaching of Jesus. They are overwhelmingly concerned with metaphysical claims about his nature, death, resurrection, and cosmic significance. 

The Sermon on the Mount, the parables, the radical inversion of power, the critique of religious authority, and Jesus' vision of the Kingdom of God occupy surprisingly little space within the doctrinal architecture that eventually emerged. You cannot pin Christianity on Jesus. Christianity as we know it is the product of a long historical development, and no individual shaped that development more than Paul.

Paul's letters were written before the gospels and became the earliest documents of the New Testament. It is entirely possible that the theological categories Paul employed influenced the writers of the synoptic gospels themselves. By the time orthodoxy emerged, Paul's interpretations had become woven into the very fabric of Christian thought. Western Christianity, whether Catholic or Protestant, is fundamentally Pauline in its assumptions and structure.

I suspect Jesus and Paul would have had profound disagreements. Jesus was a brown-skinned Jewish teacher announcing the Kingdom of God and overturning conventional notions of purity, power, and religious status. Paul, shaped by his own Pharisaic training and his encounter with the risen Christ, developed an elaborate theological framework that interpreted Jesus' death through sacrificial and redemptive categories. Jesus himself might have been astonished by much of the mythology and theology eventually attached to his name.

Perhaps Paul's most consequential move was interpreting the Roman execution of Jesus through the lens of sacrificial atonement. The Jewish image of the Passover lamb became the model through which Jesus was understood as the Lamb of God whose blood removed the sins of humanity. 

Over time Christianity became organized around the cross itself. In this sense, Paul helped transform Christianity into what might almost be called Cross-tianity. Significantly, the earliest followers of Jesus did not go around wearing crucifixes or carving crosses. The cross as a dominant devotional symbol emerged centuries later. The first known crucifix imagery appears only many generations after Jesus and Paul were gone.

Yet none of this requires hostility toward Paul. He was not attempting to create an infallible religion for future civilizations. He was writing occasional letters to struggling communities attempting to sort out practical and theological questions. He found himself in the strange and unenviable position of becoming the resident expert on Christianity. One could reasonably ask, "Who died and made Paul pope?" Nobody did. History simply placed him there.

Nor did Paul work in a vacuum. Like every human being, he drew from the raw materials available to him. His Jewish upbringing, his education, his experience, and the intellectual world of the first century all shaped the way he interpreted Jesus. Under similar circumstances, none of us would likely have done any better. Paul did what human beings always do. He made sense of experience through the conceptual tools he possessed.

The problem is not Paul. The problem is what later generations did with Paul. It was the Church, not Paul, that elevated his correspondence into the infallible Word of God. It was later communities that assumed his ideas had descended directly from heaven rather than emerged through the ordinary processes of human reflection and interpretation. That burden belongs to us, not him.

A healthy approach to Christian theology begins with a simple principle: consider the source. Historical context matters. Cultural assumptions matter. Personal formation matters. Every source deserves careful examination, including Paul. One can appreciate his genius and his contributions without deifying his writings.

I find it curious that nearly every Christian creed, from the early ecumenical councils to Roman Catholic and Protestant confessions, is largely a list of doctrinal affirmations. One can recite the Nicene Creed without encountering much of what Jesus actually taught. They tell us what to believe about Jesus far more than they invite us into the way of life Jesus embodied.

This does not make Paul a villain. He deserves compassion rather than condemnation. How could he have imagined that letters dashed off to address disputes in Corinth, Galatia, or Rome would eventually become sacred texts for billions of people? Paul did the best he could with the understanding available to him and within the limitations of his own spiritual development.

The larger responsibility belongs to us. Every religion deserves critical examination. Every theology bears the marks of history, culture, personality, and power. Christianity is no exception. 

We painted Jesus white, clothed him in layers of Greek metaphysics and Christian doctrine, and gradually transformed a first-century Jewish prophet into the centerpiece of a vast theological system. Somewhere beneath those layers remains the brown-skinned Middle Eastern Jew who wandered the dusty roads of Galilee, turned religion upside down, and invited people not to worship a doctrine, but to participate in a radically different way of being human.

Jesus did not get lost.

we lost sight of him.


... this devotion is part of a series on my spiritual deconstruction. Click here to read more.

Mercury Rising


I always knew I was a star. And now, the rest of the world seems to agree with me. -Freddy Mercury


I remember selling our Beatles LPs in the late 70s at a garage sale we held to raise money for new missionaries to Kenya. Never really gave it a thought. We were part of a fundamentalist sect that were pretty anti-rock-music. I, more than most.

In those early days my listening habits was gospel. I loved the music made by the Gaithers. Instead of the Beatles, I listened to songs that sung of the Cross and the Resurrection. As life traveled on, I began consuming cassette tapes filled with worship music. 

I would listen to various praise and worship groups and would often find myself caught up in the music. Back then, I believed that I was touching God as I 'entered in' to his presence. Christian worship music was my drug of choice and I had no time for the secular stuff. I was an addict.

I remember the first time I saw Freddy Mercury in a YouTube video some 20+ years after his death. I cried uncontrollably. How in the world did I not even know his name? How was it possible that this famous singer never entered my cloistered village?

We sponsored a Youth for Christ (YFC) club in our home in the late 70s. Each week we hosted a bunch of teens from our local high school in our home. We became close to many of these teens. One of the messages of the YFC staff was the inherent evils of rock music.

The YFC folks believed that such music caused teens to stray from the pure path of Christ. I didn't accept the message at first but, with repetition, I think that it got into my head. Once it did, my obsessive personality took it to the next level - as it always did.

Back to Freddy. Watching this amazing singer kind of broke me. It opened me up to listen to Springsteen, Bon Jovi, and others that, in my willful ignorance, I had never heard sing. It also caused me to fall back in love with Chicago, 'Blood Sweat and Tears', 'The Four Tops', the Beatles and other oldies.

In some sense, it was like coming home. Finding myself. Returning to normalcy. And embracing a spirituality not based on rules and principles. In truth, it was humbling at first. Deconstruction is all about finding humility and so often it felt like humiliation.

I think that most of us want to be a part of a transformation that is tidy. Orderly. Definable. Something that we can understand with our head. In reality, transformation is as messy as it gets. We spin in circles. We are humbled and challenged at every turn. It is SO uncomfortable.

Yet I think that the road back to 'me' is worth the struggle. Finding yourself among all the mess is hard but necessary because it is a heart thing and not a head thing. It is about being transparent and vulnerable. Even so, change is hard. Letting go of control is not for the weak of heart.

I sometimes shudder at my tendency to want to be in control. Perhaps that is one of the reasons this journey of deconstruction has been so hard? The trek is about letting go rather than holding on. It is about being open to learning. Putting the past behind and imagining new things.

In the end, coming to grips with Freddy Mercury was a bit of a wake up call. It helped me to make peace with my past. Watching Freddy and Queen at Live Aid brought me back to being me a bit - I watched that video a lot! And as Mercury rose in my life, my transformation took on new life. 


... this devotion is part of a series on my spiritual deconstruction. Click here to read more.

Does God have to be Perfect?


Therefore, just as your heavenly Father is complete in showing love to everyone, so also you must be complete. -Matthew 5:48 CEB


I love how the Common English Bible (CEB) renders this verse. While other translations tell us to be perfect as God is perfect this rendering seems to make more sense. It does mess with us though. All of our lives we have been told that God is perfect in every way.

To be sure, that last sentence may be right? God may be everything we think that he is and more. Yet I wonder if seeing God like that can be problematic. I mean, questions arise. Like is it possible for perfection to create imperfection? Or, can perfect love permit hate and disease?

I have asked a few folks this question: "Would you still love God if you discovered that he was not perfect?" Each person I asked indicated that God's perfection is not a prerequisite to their love for him. I think the question bleeds into our understanding of the gospel accounts.

Jesus was certainly a human being. Many of us also believe that he was divine - a man that had the Holy Spirit without measure. So some understand that Jesus was a mixture of both heaven and earth. The question is whether that heavenly part of him was perfect?

Some might argue that only the human part was imperfect. I know that I once did. Yet do we think that his divine part was perfect. I think that, for me, the jury is out on the answer to that question. Issues arise if Jesus is, as we read in the New Testament book of Hebrews, the exact image of God.

So what am I saying? Is God limited to what we see in Jesus? In other words, is God the image of Jesus in the same way that Jesus is the image of God? It is an interesting question. Firstly, it makes sense to think no because the Father is most certainly a Spirit.

Yet it does seem that Jesus puts substance to what that divine Spirit might look like. Unlike the warrior deity we often envision in the Old Testament, Jesus presents a different image. He shows us a softer side of God. More loving. Compassionate. Encouraging. Kind. Passionate. 

In dealing with the religious leaders and practices of his day, I think that we see the glorious passion of God. Jesus showed us bravery when he confronted them and called them hypocrites. He turned over tables and chased people out of the temple areas declaring it to be a house of prayer.

I love these images presented in the gospel accounts. They help us to understand the nature of God. Who he is and what he is like. Yet it speaks little to whether God is perfect in every way. Can God be perfect in areas of character and not in other areas?

In essence, is it possible that God has limitations? Years of teaching demands of me, that I should think that he does not. I wrote here that I think that God may not know the future. So, in that respect, he may not be all that I have once imagined him to be.

But are there other limitations that God has or ones that he has imposed on himself? He certainly seems to have limited himself with regard to interfering in the decisions and actions of human beings. Every day awful things happen and he seems passive - even towards those who love him.

God at times seems to have created a world full of chaos. Natural disasters, like earthquakes, floods, and hurricanes, speak of a flawed creation. While some apologists speak to the need of such things, these disasters convey an image of a flawed creation.

Yet the most flawed part of creation might be the human being. Creating people with the ability to hate others and do harm to them, I think, teaches us of a God with limitations. To be sure, I may be way off base in this. Yet I sometimes think, is this the best that he could do?

I am thinking that some may read this and think that I am writing blasphemy. What I am writing goes against the grain. It contradicts much of what we have been taught all of our lives. I mean really. How can it be possible that God is not perfect? It seems incredulous. 

I think that many of us have the perspective of an ant. We see huge creatures and maybe imagine strange things about these large overlords. It is pretty natural when we consider our evolution and history. Once we imagined sun and moon gods. We deified that which we didn't understand.

Perhaps that is the whole point? We really do not understand God all that much but have a need to describe the indescribable. To attribute perfection simply because we do not understand what we are trying to understand. In some sense, perfection becomes a form of idolatry.

In the end, I don't think that it is wrong to see God as perfect. Yet I think that it could become problematic as we experience trauma and pain. Thinking that God 'perfect will' (Is there such a thing?) involves such things can place a wedge in our relationship. And that might be the saddest part?

Again, the question is not 'Is God perfect?' but rather does he have to be? Can we worship an entity that is not flawless? Can we build a relationship built on something other than perfection? Can we pray to such a One? In reality, what would such a relationship look like? Maybe more on that later?


... this devotion is part of a series on my spiritual deconstruction. Click here to read more.

Why did Jesus come?


Jesus said, “Today is salvation day in this home! Here he is: Zacchaeus, son of Abraham! For the Son of Man came to find and restore the lost.” -Luke 19:10 MSG


I like the way that Eugene Petersen renders this verse. I think that the salvation that Jesus speaks of is all about finding and restoring people who have lost hope. Folks that are sad, lonely, unhappy and unloved. To these he saves more than their souls. He restores their dignity and gives them purpose.

I want to say a few words about dignity. Humans can be so beat down. They can lose themselves as they struggle so hard to survive the day. They find themselves fighting to find love joy and hope And sadly, even the strongest lose faith and give up. These sometimes lose their dignity.

To these the Lord says, come to me with your burdens. I will help you bear them. I will give you peace and rest. I will restore your dignity. As he transforms our lives, he reconnects us with our heart. He restores dignity by revealing his unconditional love and acceptance to us.

Unconditional is an interesting word. We grow up in a world where everything seems to be conditional. Performance is everything. Our compensation at work is all about performance. Our acceptance at church is all about our religious speech and actions. Everything seems conditional.

Then Jesus comes along. His love and acceptance always seems to precede his actions. To the woman caught in adultery, he accepts her before he challenges her to get out of prostitution. He does not belittle her but restores her dignity before all those who judged her.

So why is it that some religions and religious folks focus so much on sin? Pointing out sins, like the wannabe rock hurlers who Jesus confronted did, seems to be the opposite sort of message than what Jesus delivered. I wonder if it is all about the need for blood atonement? 

As I wrote here, many think that the reason that Jesus came was to die. These believe that his real ministry was not in life but in death. It was not really about what he did in his earthly ministry but the blood that he shed on the cross. These adherents are about a transaction rather than transformation.

Ever think about the idea of a Messiah? For some in the gospel books, a messianic figure would be a warrior. A powerful man (no one back then thought it would be a woman) that would, like King David, lead them in a revolt against the Roman government. 

No one imagined a suffering servant. They all were expecting someone and something different than Jesus. And mostly, despite all of his miracles, he was rejected in the end. Only a few were able to see the divinity in him. Yet all but that few scattered when he was murdered.

Before the resurrection, I think that most thought that their Messiah was a failure. They believed that Jesus came to defeat Rome and all they saw was Rome defeating him. These did not see the reason that Jesus came to earth. They could not get past the physical and enter the spiritual.

The resurrection changed everything. Jesus defeated death. He showed up in locked rooms and on sandy beaches. He ate breakfast with his followers. He restored their faith and their hope. To Peter, who still felt shame, he spoke of caring for the flock - giving him purpose and dignity.

The 40 days after the resurrection were filled with giving hope and dignity to all Jesus encountered. And on Pentecost the Holy Spirit came baptizing all who prayed with a new power and a new vision. The gospel is about such dignity and vision.

In the end, Jesus did not come to put a spiritual band-aid on. He came to bring real humility to us. The kind that breaks us of all of our religious pride and ego. And like the heartbroken disciples, he came to give us power and purpose. And these resulted in restoring our dignity.


... this devotion is part of a series on my spiritual deconstruction. Click here to read more.

prayers that cost us nothing


When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites! -Jesus Christ, Matthew 6:5


I have prayed a few thousand people in my lifetime. Have shed many tears as I felt the pain of my brothers and sisters in the faith. I have spent years praying silently and in private for my wife as she struggled with disability and pain. I prayed constantly for my first wife before she died,

So I am acquainted with the struggles that come from unanswered prayers. Yet I still pray. I have a prayer blog. Even so, these days I seem to pray differently. I no longer pray for the home run. The miracle that will cure our ills and begin a new inning ... a new chapter ... and a new season.

These days I mainly pray to know how to love better. I want to be able to flow with the pain and the suffering. So I ask God to help me do that. I so want to be able to love like Jesus. I want to be a divine extension of heaven. Yet I have found that the path is not filled with miracles.

For sure, I still want miracles. But I do not want miracles to become an idol. In contrast, I pray for things like contentment. I wrestle with the Spirit about my painful struggles. This wrestling has become a beautiful outgrowth of my prayer life. It is so real.

What do you think praying like a hypocrite looks like? Could it be just praying to show our piety? Maybe just mouthing religious words and not believing them with your heart? Perhaps it is saying the Lord's praying like a magical incantation? I can see merit in all of that.

But what if it is something much simpler? What if it is praying without love and compassion? What if it is praying with a coldness or a certainty that does not break your heart? What if prayer is all about allowing yourself, at least in part, to enter into another human's pain?

Jesus demonstrated this kind of caring. On many occasions it is written of him that he was moved by compassion. I think that his friends could visibly see this. Perhaps it was a change in posture. Or maybe a facial expression. I think that many times Jesus' compassion came out in tears.

In any case, my point is that unless a prayer touches you deeply it may be somewhat hypocritical. King David once said of himself that he would not give something that costs him nothing. Perhaps there is a lesson in there about prayer? Maybe prayers that do not cost us are just cheap and meaningless?

This is a hard thing to hear. In our "thoughts and prayers" world, I think that we have cheapened our prayers. We have substituted mindless supplications for genuine prayers that break us. We have become people who think that God hears and answers cheap prayers.

So what do you think the world would look like if people did not pray as hypocrites? Here are the verses that immediately precede Jesus' words about not praying like hypocrites. In these verses, I think that we get a brief picture of the mind and heart of God about prayer.
"So when you give something to a needy person, do not make a big show of it, as the hypocrites do in the houses of worship and on the streets. They do it so that people will praise them. I assure you, they have already been paid in full. But when you help a needy person, do it in such a way that even your closest friend will not know about it. Then it will be a private matter. And your Father, who sees what you do in private, will reward you."
These verse cut us. They expose us. They are meant to embarrass us. They are meant to teach us about prayer. It is as if Jesus was setting us up. As he speaks of helping the needy, he is teaching us that prayer is so much more that public prayers. Prayers are meant to break us and cost us.

You may be confused by the idea that prayer costs us something. Certainly prayer costs us time out of our day. Still. I suggest that prayer costs us more than that. I think that prayer is an act of giving a piece of ourselves. Of not only our time but our emotions and our actions.

For what good is prayer, if it is not a joining of our hearts and actions with God. I mean, what if prayer is more than asking but giving as well. What if prayer is an extension of divine will and providence on the earth? What if God wants to work through prayer in meaningful ways?

Sadly, I still play the hypocrite when I pray. Old habits are hard to break. And sometimes I am not ready to enter into prayers that break my heart. I do not want to cry. It is so hard to get out of my comfort zone. Yet I do understand that unlearning and learning is a process.

I ask you. Will you join me? Will you allow yourself to rise above "thoughts and prayers" and let your heart break as Jesus did. And maybe allow yourself to cry with the hurting and the broken. I think that these sorts of prayers have the power to defeat hypocrisy. May they do just that for you.


... this devotion is part of a series on my spiritual deconstruction. Click here to read more.

Does Jesus have to be divine?


According to Christian theology, Jesus had to be God for his sacrifice to be sufficient to atone for the sins of all humanity. As a human, his death would have been finite, but because he was God, his sacrifice was infinite and could pay the infinite penalty for sin against an infinitely holy God. Being both fully God and fully man, Jesus could act as a mediator and provide a way for people to be reconciled with God, secure righteousness, and receive eternal life. 


The explanation above is one that I embraced for most of my life. It made sense. If human beings were sinful by nature then they would need a divine being to atone for their sins. This idea dominated my theology from a very early age. Until it didn't.

I won't go into the ideas of blood atonement here as I delved into it here. I also will not speak to the problems with the original sin dogma as I did here. Suffice to say that I no longer embrace the orthodoxy of those views and see human beings in a different light.

So what I would like to discuss here is the question of not whether Jesus is divine but whether he has to be. For sure, If one believes that humanity needs blood atonement for their sins, then it makes perfect sense that Jesus has to be divine. But what if they do not?

I think that there are a few things that might point us to the answer of whether Jesus might be divine. One caveat that I might mention is the aspect of faith. For sure, no one can confess Jesus as Lord apart from believing in his Lordship. So it is important to weigh that in.

So here are a few scriptures that I suggest that might deal with Jesus' deity.

  • Jesus says, ‘anyone who has seen me has seen the Father’.

    This is an amazing statement because of the implications. One that I freely accept. In his life, Jesus showed us an amazing image of what a perfect human being might look like. I think that he also gave us a credible reimagining of what God is like. Gone are the pictures of a wrathful Zeus-like deity judging humanity because of their sins. Gone is the idea that the Father is angry with us. In contrast, in Jesus we see a picture of One who cares deeply for the poor and is not too happy with those who do not help them. These images present a compelling case for Jesus' divinity.

  • Jesus also says. I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by himself. He does only what he sees the Father doing. Whatever the Father does, the Son also does.

    This is an outrageous claim if made by any human. In saying this, Jesus separates himself from the prophets, the rabbis and all others. The miracles he does might seem to be evidence enough of this but his words give an extra degree of validity to the idea that he is divine. In calling himself 'the Son', I think that he is teaching us something about himself. I think that he is pointing to a divine connection that the most spiritual among us lacks. In my view, I think that points us to the idea that Jesus saw himself as more than human.

  • A question from Jesus: "Why do you call me Lord but don’t do what I tell you?"

    One listening to him might ask Jesus, 'Who are to speak to us in this way?' For sure Jesus gave commands that seemed odd to many. I mean telling people to love their enemies went against the human grain and brain. Calling the poor blessed did not seem logical by any stretch of the imagination. Rebuking his elders seemed wrong. So how in the world could he command the absolute obedience of his disciples. What verse in the Hebrew Bible could he quote? Why should any agree with him? It might make a case for his divinity?

  • Jesus got in trouble when he said: "I and the Father are one."

    The Jewish leaders threatened to stone him saying that he committed blasphemy by claiming to be God. To be sure, he did deflect their accusation using an obscure verse from the Jewish scriptures, but I think that their reaction was well founded. This idea of oneness with God often got Jesus in trouble. Even a casual reading of the scriptures bears this out. I think that he had a spiritual oneness with God that revealed itself in his miraculous ministry and extraordinary teachings.  He is one who has had no equal in all of history. 

So, while I am not inclined to believe in Christ's divinity based on some sort of atonement theory, I am fully in, based on his character, his ministry, his teachings and his testimony. I have tried to model my life after his. In my view, he is matchless. And worthy of emulation. There is no one like him.

So back to the question. Does Jesus have to be divine? As I have indicated, to some degree, it is a matter of faith. That said, I think that there is enough evidence in the gospels to indicate that he is. Yet even if he is not divine, I believe that his life of love is one that is worthy of emulation. 



... this devotion is part of a series on my spiritual deconstruction. Click here to read more.

Developing My Inner Voice


Your mind knows only some things. Your inner voice, your instinct, knows everything. If you listen to what you know instinctively, it will always lead you down the right path. -Henry Winkler


In my life it has been hard for me to discern and develop my inner voice. My brain always seemed to override the inner voice. A bad habit that I developed because of fear. Consequentially, I tended to rely on my brain to keep me in control. Something that it would take years to unlearn.

Here are a few thoughts about my journey to hear and trust my inner voice.

  • I think that I first needed to acknowledge the existence of my beautiful inner heart/self/voice. This seemed to be the starting point.  Believing that my heart was actually trustable and not desperately wicked changed everything.

  • Trying to figure out why I have done, or am doing, a thing is hard but necessary. My big discovery was that I did a lot of things because I was a rules follower. I still love rules and principles but now understand a tad more about how impotent and limited they can be.

  • Focusing on becoming more loving seemed to sometimes identify the battle between head and heart. I am always aware about how much fear is a part of my journey. Even today I struggle with the future because I am fearful of future health problems for Ann and me.

  • Being open to change has really been hard for me. I retired at 49 from a job that I loved. A few years later I left a ministry position that I did not want to leave. Each time I tried to lean into the still small inner voice. And in each case I was glad that I did.

  • In my early years I really judged myself harshly. I had grace for everybody but me. Being comfortable in my own skin and owning who I really am seems like a cliche but it took a long time for me to get there. I am glad that I found a beautiful way forward.

I think that the idea of being comfortable in my skin was an important discovery. For years I heard things that seemed odd to me even though I could explain it with my head. Many times things in the Bible simply did not make sense. I wrestled with so much of the bible.

I began to learn that it was certainty, not doubt, that was the enemy of faith. This prodded me along the road. I began to see my natural skepticism as a good thing instead of something to be defeated. And my questions led me to think outside of the box.

I remember a pastor once telling me that I needed to submit. Another accused me of having a negative spirit. I think that cultic intimidation in church settings is really prevalent. Seems like folks are only concerned with the truth when it aligns with preconceived theological ideas.

Developing my inner voice required me to embrace and believe that God was working through what some describe as the still small voice or just plain old intuition. It was difficult at first but peace resulted as I pressed forward. That peace grows even today.

My friend John used to advise folks to ask themselves: "What is the most loving thing to do?"  It is such a great challenge. It has the ability to refocus our minds, our hearts and most importantly our actions in the ways of love. And I think that it can help us develop our inner voice.



... this devotion is part of a series on my spiritual deconstruction. Click here to read more.