Watching the lyrics for the third verse of 10 000 Reasons (Bless the Lord) being projected on the screen it finally grabbed me. It was that sharp pin puncturing the pitch black wall or veil and some very cool yellow light broke through.
I think I have taken the first step toward fathoming eternity and where I'll spend it.
This is significant.
(I don't think I can go on writing about it but I am [excited] because now I can catch up with all the Christians who seem to get it and live under that knowledge. I am also looking forward to the truth working its way through my self and life so my pastor will stop yelling at me for not being jubilant on the topic.)
(2) This:
[The man who delights in and meditates on the law of the Lord] is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.
Psalm 2:3
This made sense to me in a deep way for the first time this morning and then sunk even deeper on my walk to this coffee and blogging.
That tree, that man, lacks nothing. The source is near and sure.
We don't worry about its source of life like we do for the trees that are inland.
I ...
...
...have nothing to worry about. I can weather it. My roots go deep and He is steadfast. This is amazing. This is going to change my life. I can be bolder because what can man do to me?
(Again I have to stop writing because it's inexpressible.)
(3) Our vocal and instrumental leader killed it this morning. He loves God and it oozes from every pore. He worships hard and the rest of us scramble to keep up. It's fantastic. And I appreciate his humility.
He's like the person I've been waiting for to breathe life into or to wear or to exact the sets I compile. In the Lord's grace we complement one another and it's dynamic. It's a privilege to watch from the outside and to participate in.
And this morning it was a glorious partnership between the music and the word preached and I am beside myself. The Lord does stuff.
After service I silently shook hands with the leader and made some "I'm speechless" gestures, nodding along with his verbal marvelling.
"[Our pastor] set it up..." he says with a big grin, trailing off because he knows I know the implication.
I go to grab something from the back room and on my return I say, "I hope that me shaking your hand in front of all of these people doesn't look like I think WE did something." He laughs. I'm chuffed I don't have to expand on comments like that with him.
I try to walk away but then turn back to say, "And how did Matt Redman know we needed that song this morning?!" He nods, laughs and says, "I know," through his chuckling.
I try to leave one more time but then turn again knowing I may never have the nerve again, I confess, "The real reason I shook your hand was because I wanted to say, 'I'm glad you're here'."
Instead of talking more like I wanted to, to gloss over the moment of vulnerability, I just held eye-contact hoping he would pick up that I wasn't being flippant. He picked it up. He made a funny face that looked like my comment had made an impact. He had no reply. My opinion shouldn't matter to him because he knows what he brings and he is surely being appreciated and encouraged by many, week after week.
I said it because I wanted to -- almost because I needed to. And he took it. Good Sunday.
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