Golden rays peek shy over over a tree-lined horizon and in the breaking through the quiet dawn, birds begin to sing. One lilting song joined by another in harmony. And the whole chorus in treetops crescendos as birds take to wing. Wings soar in precision. Climbing heavenward and swooping earthbound. The mass of many becomes the whole. And it is beauty... all. ... and I empty my mind of human aspirations, desires of the flesh (which I am) and offer "I'm sorry," where I walk closely to a pit of, "I want." I offer "thank you," a million times over. "Thank You" to Him, but most of all, "thank you," for Him. He fulfills. He is all gain. He is all desire. Human aspirations, desires of the flesh (which I am), disintegrate and crumble away. Yet sometimes, not without scars...
All today is praise.
And all todays are praise.
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2 comments:
I love your phrase, "The mass of many becomes the whole." That's a beautiful picture of what the church can be when we worship. :)
Won't that be an amazing reality one day? I think we (the church) are headed this way already, Donna.
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