My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
The comparison of our relationship with God to that of child and parent is adequate in terms of the trust involved, but as far as the freedom of what is shared, the doubts and speculation entrusted, friends may be a better model.
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