There were barstools instead of pews, and bartenders standing in for ushers. Nonetheless, I recognized the feeling permeating the club…
It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s…Jesus?
We can’t stop storms. We can’t capture the wind or refuse lightning. Claps of thunder still startle our unsuspecting bodies in the middle of the night. But we continue to trust in a bat-shit crazy God who has continued to show up for us, time and time again.
For years, I believed exactly what Christine Caine’s quote says: God can do in a second what you have been unable to do alone for years. But it only led me away from Christ.
There is no storm that isn’t subject to His whisper and there is no furnace where He will ever fail to join His children. I am learning that the miracle of God may not always come in the way I was taught as a child, with a laying on of hands and oil and shouts; the miracle of God, more often than not, may be that He is absolutely willing to walk with me through every Valley.
Alzheimer’s is a miserable disease. With my Grandfather, it’s the same story multiple times in one conversation. It’s spending more time talking to my Grandmother as my grandfather watches, blankly.
In these moments I realize how much I am like my Grandfather.
When I take my last breath on earth, won’t be thinking of metrics and stats. I pray to God I won’t be thinking of my failures of any sort of disappointment I ever faced, but instead of all the small things. The time I took to breathe. To kiss my son on the forehead. To reach across the kitchen table and hold my wife’s hand. To notice the way a baby smells behind the ears. These tiny moments are the ones that matter the most to me now.