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Identity merits discovery solely in the fruition of the Cross.

As I liken myself to an open book, imagine one laying face down, with a delicately threading spine, frayed edges, dogeared pages, ink-soaked margins, highlighted patches of text, even a coffee stain or two...or eight.  This book shows all discernible signs of being well-traveled and intimately loved by its Author, who had naught a fleeting intent of ever duplicating nor replacing it.  A journey beckons you to engage: themes spanning each chapter, solace contained within blank spaces, preemptive indentations, and vigilant positioning of every punctuation mark or lack thereof...each refracts a flicker of insight into the inexhau

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