I have literally forgotten that I even HAD a blog for a couple months now. It was very easy to not think about it, with lots of things going on in the life of Anthony Franklin.

Lots of work and projects around the house. Lots of family time, and work. Lots of personal struggling, drama, and spiritual frustration.

But as I read back over things I have written during the span of the last year, I wonder what spiritual drought I am in that has me wondering almost outloud “who” this person was that wrote these things? I feel as if I was reading the thoughts of a different person.

Is it possible to be spiritually moved by your own past writings, and not out of arrogance or pride?

Is it possible for your own written words to be the catalyst to draw you back to long-forgotten passion and devotion?

 

I am going to ponder these things. Maybe the things I write in the future will be more humble in nature.

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