The wave

Love is like a wave, overwhelming everything.

It consumes selfish agendas,

washes out political opinion,

sweeps divisiveness away.

It slams into shore with the force of grace, equality, selflessness.

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Sometimes, you just have one of those moments.

I was at a conference for Christian leaders called Catalyst, 13,000 people in the arena, nearly all of those voices raised in song..

Standing up from crags and clay
The peaks of earth
In full display
They break the lines
That break the sky
That’s full of life
Full of life

The chaos of creation’s dance
A tapestry, a symphony
Of life himself
Of love herself
It’s written in our very skin

All praises to the one who made it all
Who made it all
All praises to the one who made it all
And finds it beautiful

It was one of those moments.

And what was happening to me felt like the scene in Jurassic Park where Mr. DNA explained how they made a dine-ah-sour by filling in the missing parts of the DNA strand with genetic code from a frog.

Because I have missing parts of me, things that are broken, empty, thirsty, incomplete. And in the moment, it was as if the words and music, this graceful poetry, began attaching itself to my DNA, fusing those gaps, bringing me to wholeness, pumping life into my blood. I wasn’t repeating a song that was out there, the song had become a part of me. It was flowing through my veins and I was exhaling the byproduct of the fusion of my soul with the truth that it told so artistically, so freely, so joyfully. The song implanted in my cells, moved to my heart, swelled in my lungs and came out through my mouth. Breath, tone, volume, voice. It was pure, unfiltered, fearless worship.

It was one of those moments.

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Agape mornings

It’s my day off.

I’m laying in bed, alone, slowly and casually shaking off the lingering dust of sleep and making my way toward full consciousness. I’m in no hurry to get up. Other days require swifter action and demand immediate attention. But this isn’t one of those days. Today is made for relaxation, for recharging the batteries.

As I lay there, I hear the soft sounds of little feet on the carpet. Through the bedroom door strolls my 8-year old daughter, still in her pajamas. She’s here for one reason and one reason only. She wants to be close to her Daddy. And she knows from experience that this is one of the best times to snuggle. She knows I’m going to take my time getting out of bed.

She crawls up onto the bed and curls up next to me, her head under my arm. I don’t say anything because I’m really self-conscious about morning breath and I don’t want her to run out of the room. For a moment, no words are spoken. We just lay there together, snuggled up in tender and perfect connection.

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