misdirected

The reason my life has wandered to nowhere is likely due to the fact that the focus of the moment has dictated the destination of my life, when the destination of my life should have been dictating the focus of the moment.

It is the fool who declares __ am ascending the summit,_ while he__ toddling around in the ditch.

Due north_ on my compass is largely __ue_ to the fact that in __ue_ time I have been __nduly_ lax in recalibrating my compass. And I__ apparently ignorant enough to wonder why I__ lost.

At the end, a journey based on my imagination will leave me imagining that I should have engaged the very thing I used my imagination to avoid.

If there__ one thing that__ irrefutably absurd, it__ believing that we can separate intelligence from wisdom and still have it be intelligence.

Imagination envisions what could be. Reality states what is. And when my journey is shaped by one of these at the exclusion of the other, I will eventually wake up on some road facing the __eality_ that I__ far more lost than I could have __magined_.

Disappointment focuses on __hat is not,_ and completely misses the far greater reality of __hat now is.

If truth is relative, then it__ cousin is anarchy.

When you see evil do not form ideas that are in the likeness of that evil; do not think of the evil as bad, but try to understand the forces that are back of that evil__orces that are good in themselves, though misdirected in their present state. By trying to understand the nature of the power that is back of evil or adversity, you will not form bad ideas, and therefore will feel no bad effects from experiences that may seem undesirable. At the same time, you will think your own thought about the experiences, thereby developing the power of the master mind.

My worth is not based on the __ork of my hands_ despite how feverishly I might work and how audaciously successful I might be. Rather, my worth is based exclusively on the astonishing fact that I am the __ork of God__ hands.

To embrace the message of Christmas is to throw off my hedonistic rebellion and bow before the chafing reality that I can't save myself, and in that very act to be suddenly taken aback in that I've stumbled upon the very freedom I've longed for in the very place I'd least expected it.

The assumption of __ights_ is the cancer of privilege.

If truth be told, the easy road is nothing more than an armchair in clever disguise. And if you look around, it seems that there are a whole lot of people in the furniture business.

Far too often the __hings_ that men define as success do little more than successfully destroy the lives of the very men who achieve those __hings._ And while I must admit that there is an authentic element of success in all of that, it__ the kind of success that I would much prefer to successfully avoid.

In many ways, anger is a misdirected plea for love.

If I scan the expanse of my heart and find it empty of everything except emptiness, it is because I __oured_ the whole of my passion into something other than God. And anything other than God will always be too __oor_ to be able to __our_ back anything that can fill that kind of emptiness.

If I look closely, my failures are less about my inadequacies and more about the fact that I channel my abilities into the wrong places.

When we stop pursuing God`s purpose, our gifts and talent are misdirected.