“Oh Lord, our Lord how majestic is your name in all the earth. “
For my entire life I read this verse and figured it was about mountains, sunsets and jungle flowers so exotically that it’s difficult to believe that they’re real.
But these days I think that mountains paint a weak picture of God’s majesty, compared to the wonders of his children. And this is a bold statement coming from me because I seriously love the mountains.
Lately I wonder if God’s name is worshipped the fullest and most powerfully when his children discover their passions and are brave enough to go through with them, to pursue them, to embody his creative-splendor with their hours of their lives.
Maybe in this way, worship isn’t so much about a song on Sunday but about faithful hands but about being fully ourselves for our Father throughout the week.
Being brave enough to listen to that whispering voice inside. The one that says:
“You know that thing you love to do? Do that. Do it for Me, with Me. Do it as your life’s work, even when you’re feeling scared and too small. Those feelings are the enemy, he wants no part of this beauty. He wants you in hiding, to keep my beauty and love contained.”
Now that I’ve opened my eyes to this concept, I see people’s passionate hearts as beautiful worship, I tear up at all the gifts and wonder God poured into his people. Slam poetry? Glass blowing? Perfect violin solos? It’s all too much, it makes me wonder why I bother with Mascara anymore, life’s too beautiful to stay dry-eyed. Continue reading