Worship.
When I feel my most whole.
The busyness of the world is put to the side,
and it’s just you and I.
Offer you the space and like a wave you crash over, consuming the entirety of a the room and the hearts within it.
Give you praise, and I receive your overflowing love just as quickly.
With a single word uttered in prayer, your ear draws close to hear.
I’ve noticed something, stretching from as far as India, across land and sea, over Africa, to right where I am today in Chile, your love and presence has never changed.
No matter the environment, you have been constant.
From a small school in Sielmat, India,
To mountain tops in Lamachure, Nepal.
From a Christmas coffee shop gathering surrounded by many who have never even heard the true meaning, in Ho Chi Min City, Vietnam,
To a desolate village in Phenom Penh, Cambodia.
From the sandlot of Suronga, Botswana,
To neighborhood streets in Heidlberg, South Africa.
From the front yard of a women with leg problems, who’s only wish was to go to church, in Nsoko, Swaziland,
To a kids’ gathering on a porch in the red zone of Mendoza, Argentina.
Your love and presence has never changed, but man, does your love change everything.
