On Not Listening to My Dad's Sermons

I have to confess something to you: I don't listen to my dad's sermons. I mean, I do-- if he texts me and tells me I need to for a work project or because he thinks it's especially important for me to, but otherwise...

I hate admitting that, because my dad is a great preacher. One of the most passionate ones I've ever heard. And I love getting to hear him preach in person-- it's just the thought of my dad's voice in my earbuds that weirds me out. 

But I want to say here: I'm sorry, Daddy, because I should listen more than I do. Because otherwise I wouldn't have heard the sermon you preached yesterday on Pride, where you laid bare your own pride while calling out mine, that my pride is really an intention of trying to be independent from God. 

I'm not going to give you the play-by-play of his sermon because it's worth the time to listen to it. Put it in your podcast queue and listen to it on a walk or a run or in traffic.