Worship
On friday’s, we write for five short minutes without editing and gussying the page. We spill what rises to the surface and share it, bravely with others, and we encourage. We give virtual high fives and hugs and pats on the back, sometimes, we gather in prayer too, for the broken stories, the wounded stories that sneak out when we weren’t expecting.
This is Five Minute Friday, this is how we roll.
Worship
I was afraid it would stop before I was ready, afraid the music of heaven would fade or be drowned out by the noise of earth. Cupping my hands to my ear I prayed for you to keep going, I prayed for still feet and an abiding heart. It’s been still, quiet, but for your song.
I’ve bent low with my face to the floor and swung my head back with the sky kissing my chin and have worshipped you in all of your glory. Sometimes without words, and other times the words that are not my own, but that of a song or a Psalm.
Today I worshipped you for a moment as I scrawled vocabulary across the giant whiteboard in our school room. With each curve of my marker I recalled how that board ended up here, in my home. A prayer answered. A gift out of nowhere–it came from you, by your hand, you the giver of every good and perfect gift. I marveled and gave thanks again for it, for what it symbolizes. And I bowed my head and worshipped quietly while my boys jotted down facts about Augustus Caesar.
I’ve learned that worship can happen anywhere, over any small thing because it’s all a gift and so I must live in a permanent state of admiration and adoration of you.
All else feels empty, and vain, but for your name on my lips–
You’ve wrapped me in a circle of glory and met my every need and desire. You’ve opened my eyes and chipped away the dross from my heart. I want nothing but to worship you.
My life is yours, for you gave it to me.
My heart is yours for without you it would cease to beat.
My lungs breathe in your air because you fill me up.
I rise each day by the good and generous mercy of your unfailing love and so I will worship.
You, Lord are all I want.
Everything I need.
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