A walk on a wooded path with a friend held my breath of worship this morning. With each inhale, I touched creation and exhaled gratitude. God is teaching me a new way of worship, where His Presence inhabits a beam of sunlight upon a leaf, soft footfalls upon the pressed dirt path, red berries stark in a forest of green.
Decades of disciplined church-going practices prick my conscience, but only for a second. For three years now, God has done nothing as planned. My plan, that is. My vision is widened by the scope of His love and His immeasurable grace.
Grace cannot be contained within walls, words or earthly wisdom.
Whispers of his presence permeate the ordinary, the simple, the sweetness of hot summer days.