This was the prison of my own rights. It was a deep and subconscious penitentiary, a moated and lofty castle of my rights, my life, my control, my religion, my opinions, my beliefs, my expectations, my dreams, my plans, my finances and schedules. This was the one fortress which I would not allow God in. I had built it when I had been hurt as a child, when fear and unbelief came in. It was the lofty refuge for me protecting myself. In the high citadel of my rights no one and nothing could hurt me. Not even God, Himself.
I had a glimpse of this mental fortress. It was a little drought stricken piece of land, incredibly dry and cracked. Rain…
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