I have lately been stumbling upon new sensations of wonder. Awe for the Lord. This morning it was a brief moment on the bus when I crossed the bridge over a frozen river, only to see the breathtaking masterpiece He created in mixing the brilliant hues of persimmon sunrise with the blanched Alice blue of the riverfront frozen in snow and austere in ice.
Or I wonder at the joy He gives me in little things. I stand in awe of friends who share so vulnerably with me of the deep things in their hearts. The mother-look and voice of wisdom my spiritual mentor has when she speaks to me. I stand in awe before the flashes—instantaneously here and gone—of so many emotions on the face of a toddler. A two-tooth grin. A brow crease of momentary consternation. I wonder at the fortitude He gives to those who sacrifice so much in fighting for what is true and good.
The micro-expressions of every example of humanity I see are assaulting the senses of my soul. That sentence is probably meaningless to you, so let me rephrase. Every encounter I have with another human being these days feels like it is marking my soul with a deep impression. An impression of his or her humanity. An impression of how incredibly beautiful that person is. An impression of God's Providence unfolding in that person's life. Maybe it was one single smile during our conversation that struck like a bolt of lightning into my soul. And it leapt up, John-like, and exclaimed in secret, "Behold, the Lord! You are here, with her, with me! Who am I, that my Lord should come to me, hidden in such a small way? That I should greet Him in the smile of a coworker."
I must retract a bit. I do not think I have been so attentive to every instant of my interactions with others to take all the moments together into my soul and distill the purity of each moment into a lasting impression. All I mean to say is that I stand in wonder and awe before the Lord who made them. Every "he" or "she" I talk to, shake hands with, smile at, hold in my arms, or merely nod to in acknowledgment.
And last night I had a jam-worship session with a beloved sister of mine. It was a bit exhilarating, not necessarily in the moment, but in reflecting upon it, to see how "full" life was. To just worship the Lord with another, two guitars, two souls in love with the Lord. Just getting creative, sharing laughter, building upon one another's songs, weaving different verses or riffs or choruses together to form a spontaneous stream of worship, unrepeatable. I don't pretend to be a great musician or guitarist. But I love the creativity, the freedom, that comes from that kind of worship. Where "rules" of how a song works, when it ends, what its words are, all fall apart in light of the purpose of the song. It's not meant to be saved or recorded, or replayed or even teachable. It's only meant for that one moment. For that hour that stretched out of time and into eternity because our souls were speaking a language God alone could fully understand. We translated it as song, music, worship. He translates it into love. Into union.

Wonder and worship. This is the Way. LIFE 100%. Pure and essential.



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