I don't know what to say. Where do I begin to express my thanks, my grattitude? I am so humbled by what happened last night. I am awed by what one little idea can mushroom into - and by all the hands, hearts, and minds that pitched in to help it grow. Despite all the problems marring Christianity, this is proof positive that the Body of Christ is alive, healthy, and longing to stretch its arms - if only we would free it from our petty, man-made boundaries.
I'm convinced that the problems we ran into (and they were many and they were hairy) were just the tip of the iceberg - the problems we actually saw are just the ones that slipped through spiritual defenses. Until we're home, in heaven, we'll never know what mayhem was kept at bay by the grace of God. And can anyone say that this show was not a miracle - that we were not graced by the presence of angels?
When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?
Psalm 8:3-4
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?"
And I said, "Here am I. Send me!"
Isaiah 6:8
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
1. A Flower of Prose
And God asked me to write a little flower of prose, so I sat and I typed.
I had been feeling that slide, that melancholy that sticks to the skin like a humid day and I prayed for God's love to fill me and to make me whole. I wanted God's love to drift over my skin and evaporate the stickiness away. I want to be filled with God's love so I can share it with others, so I can stop focusing on myself, so I can write, so I can stop being bitter, so I can learn to love myself, so I can learn to love God. All this depends on God's love and I want to know this love before the slide sets in.
Is this a flower? No, it's a bud that wants to burst but it waits for rain, for God to take notice and to touch the skies. Send your rain Lord, send your rain.
I had been feeling that slide, that melancholy that sticks to the skin like a humid day and I prayed for God's love to fill me and to make me whole. I wanted God's love to drift over my skin and evaporate the stickiness away. I want to be filled with God's love so I can share it with others, so I can stop focusing on myself, so I can write, so I can stop being bitter, so I can learn to love myself, so I can learn to love God. All this depends on God's love and I want to know this love before the slide sets in.
Is this a flower? No, it's a bud that wants to burst but it waits for rain, for God to take notice and to touch the skies. Send your rain Lord, send your rain.
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