When I was  7 years old my family lived in Houston and attended an Episcopalian church.    In the front of the chapel was a stain glass of Jesus with arms lowered and outstretched, like a father waiting for a hug.   Being that young and the Episcopalian church being formal, I didn't 'get' the liturgical stuff, or sermons.   I would grab a pencil from the pew and one of the paper programs and start to doodle.   

I remember trying to draw that stain glass during the service and it seems that Jesus would move in ways that you had to look hard to see.  I think he spoke to me but I don't remember any words?   It felt wonderful and personal. 

So, I suppose my morals come from my perception of how I see the life of Jesus.    The emotion was that of the love of child for a parent. 

That small subtle voice has stayed with me.   The problem is that the Spirit wants me to sit quietly and frankly I'm not real good at it.