I haven’t been reading my Bible the first thing in the morning lately like I’ve been in the habit of doing for the last 45 years of my life.
People who care about such things and who also care about me shouldn’t fret too much about this because my daily Bible reading comes and goes like this sometimes. Mostly, I’m a daily Bible reader, and today before I began writing this post, I read a passage from The Gospel of John, chapter one, verses 1 through 5 . . .
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him; and without Him was not any thing made that was made. In Him was Life; and the Life was the Light of men. And the Light shines in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.”
These were the first words of the collection of ancient books that we call “The Holy Bible” that I ever read when I was a twenty year old young man who after a series of mystic circumstances “gave my heart to Jesus Christ.” When I read these words, I had the literal physical sensation of cool, clear, refreshing Water splashing me in the face and washing the blindness from my eyes.
You don’t believe that? I don’t care. I was there, and I know that it happened just like I’ve described it.
Lately, I’ve been moved by an inspiration that I call “my muse,” or more specifically, “my Southern Muse,” because it came upon me to write very powerfully last spring when Karen and I were visiting some long time and good friends who live in southwest Georgia near the birthplace of Ray Charles. A friend noticed that my obsessive early morning texting on my phone to family and friends took on a new aspect as I daily sent home stories of people and places that Karen and I encountered and experienced each day.
“Man, Mark,” my friend who used to be a screenwriter in Hollywood wrote me, “you MUST be a writer. I never in my life wrote anything for which I wasn’t paid or expecting to be paid, but you are churning this stuff out regularly for free!”
I was kind of leery of mixing daily Bible reading with my early morning writing, especially once I began this blog in May of this year and, especially, after I began to write the three books that I’m writing almost simultaneously hereon. What IF reading my Bible messed with my muse? What if my muse left me?
Another friend asked why couldn’t I do both . . . read my Bible daily AND write my blog and my books?
I never answered my friend’s honest question because I didn’t want to commit either way.
But this past weekend, I missed reading my Bible regularly, even every day. It’s NOT the only spiritual means that I have to commune with my possibly imaginary Friend, Jesus Christ, but it’s been one of the best ways that I’ve known all my life.
“My Friend, Jesus Christ,” huh? Therein lies True Madness . . . the Madness that once saved my life . . . and my soul . . . and still does.
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