Confessions Reopened: An Introduction – Four Years Later

Lord,

We take for granted the things You do for us. We take Your gifts and demand more. You alone expanded my ability to read and comprehend—my hubris thought I was ready for Augustine. Thank You for reminding me how small I am every time I feel tall. Thank You for pulling the rug so I land on my knees. Help me remember my posture toward You.

Four years ago You put the desire in me—fiction faded, truth-books called (You knew why). You handed me The Cost of Discipleship, exposed cheap grace. You revealed my idol-shelf: mostly me. You reframed Beatitudes as this-life goals. You showed I knew nothing—misapplied Christ’s words to my story. You walked me through Tozer’s depths. You first brought Confessions.

Newly reborn (still wobbling), I thought a “small ancient book” would fly by. Wrong—You knew. I made it to Book 4, panic rose. I blamed an old translation, chased the modern but it felt flat. You weren’t ready for me to finish.

Now? You have supplied four translations, time, study space. Back to page one. Keep me open, Father. Open the ears of my heart. Whisper loud. Hold my hand through Your humble servant Augustine.

Already, in just the opening pages, his voice rings clear:

“I am not a good person, no matter what anyone tells me. When I compare myself to Christ, I shouldn’t even be in the same universe as Him.”

That’s the mirror he holds up—not to crush us, but to make Your grace breathtaking.

If anyone is reading along, Welcome, walk along. One section at a time, noticing what Augustine notices—about himself, and about all of us. No pressure to agree. Just quiet company on the road, if you want it.

Lord, help this servant listen, heed, grow—and like Enoch, walk with You.

Amen.