Put your sweet self under God.
Entirely.
No arms and legs kicking out to the sides.
Knees to the floor.
Eyes to the skies.
Hands open wide.
Death to your pride.
Here we run aground on the reason the Devil flees.
He doesn't flee from us, Beloved.
He runs from God who is standing right there over us every time we submit.
Take off your shoes.
That's holy ground.
from Beth Moore's study on James
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