I am not afraid of dying too young or leaving my work incomplete. I do not entertain the tempting idea that my wife and children could not get on without me. My fear is that the man I despise within might actually become the whole of me. I fear that at the end of my age, the despicable and the reckless and the cynical and the disconnected Patrick might be all there is left as an offering to the God who loves me anyway. And I shudder to think that today I might actually be living that offering out.
If there is good in me, the Lord must find it. And if I am to be saved, it is God that must bring it about. Fumbling in the dark; that is what this is like. Today I am reaching out Jesus, grab hold of me before I get hurt.