Before I was married I'd give a lift to work to one of my colleagues. He used to say that I had SUCKER written across my forehead in ink only other drivers could see because if ever a car was waiting to pull out, it'd pull out in front of me.
I reckon I still have SUCKER written across my forehead but now it's in ink that everyone can see. Except me.
So, tomorrow, I'm speaking in prison. I wasn't supposed to be but ...
I'm not sure when or how I became the sort of person who speaks in church. (When I say 'church' I mean Zac's or prison, of course, not 'real' church; they wouldn't have me.) Strangely enough I usually enjoy it - once it's over.
Tomorrow I'm using the notes from the study we did in Zac's women's group on Thursday about Judas and Peter for my talk. It's going to end with something like: don't be a Judas (unable to forgive yourself and wasting your life), be a Peter (accepting that you'll fall and allow Jesus to help you up)! If I can just remember the rest of it I'll be fine.
Having finished writing it out this morning I've read/orated it several times and I'm starting to confuse myself so I guess it's down to God and my memory from now on. I'll have my notes but I prefer not to use them too much.
I'll let you know how it goes.
And in the meantime I'll practise saying, 'No.'
Postscript, Sunday afternoon
Went okay. Apart from the whisperers, gigglers, sitters and man who knew more than me.