From: "In Constant Prayer" by Robert Benson
We live in the age of the personal.
We have personal soundtracks on portable personal sound systems so we can sort of clear out our own personal space whenever we happen to be out there among the human race.
We have personal computers, and we can hire personal shoppers - though I have to confess that I am still personally up to the task of disposing of my personal income myself. We have personal identification numbers, and some of us have personalized license plates.
I heard on the radio an advertisement that says I have a personal banker, though we have never actually met. And if you met me, you could tell by looking at me that I clearly have personal style that fits comfortably around my persona.
Once a quarter, I get a personal invitation in the mail to have my car's oil changed and engine belts checked by my personal mechanic, the one who works for the dealership that services my ultimate personal driving machine.
I take personal responsibility whenever I should, or at least when I have to, and I am personally convinced that I am on the planet to be my own person.
So it is really not a surprise that my personal prayer to my personal Savior is all too often about one person.