there is a small, whiter scar on my forearm that has lived with me for thirty-some years.
my young older brother, raced up the four rough cut stairs of our split level village house, hand drill leading the way. coming down from up, my arm was introduced to the broken off drill bit piercing half inch deep.
the scar is hardly visible unless pointed to. the tip was small, but the pain big. now a reminder of leading with sharp.
the price of paying less attention to what comes first in moving forward and towards. forgetting that love is meant to be at the front of the line.
if i speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, i am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. and if i have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if i have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, i am nothing. if i give away all i have, and if i deliver up my body to be burned,but have not love, i gain nothing.
1 corinthians 13:1 (ESV)