“there is within the human heart a tough fibrous root of fallen life whose nature is to possess, always to possess. It covets “things” with a deep and fierce passion. The pronouns “my” and “mine” look innocent enough in print, but their constant and universal use is significant…. They are verbal symptoms of our deep disease. The roots of our hearts have grown down into things, and we dare not pull up one rootlet lest we die” – A.W Tozer, The Pursuit of God
I’m so doomed!
for though little that I have, I love to call it my own. my family, my friends, my job, my money, my this and my that.
the more I have the more I want.
oh, if I ever call you mine, that’s not sweeter than the truth you belong to him, he who owns me.
I am scared, “I am letting go of myself”
pulling up these “my-mine” rootlet, let “me” die. I don’t want me, I want YOU