then the LORD God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature. (Genesis 2:7 ESV)
In the silence while everyone was out today, I picked up my neglected flute and played ‘Amazing Grace’. As I exhaled the breath given me by God, it hit the silver lip, splitting into octaves, tones and semitones. Music woven back into worship to Him who gave me breath. He breathed life into me, I breathed out worship. In a rare moment I lived as I should be.
You don’t need a flute to do this, voices work just fine (Acts 16:25).
But would I use my voice to worship if suffering and treated shamefully? (1 Thessalonians 2:2) In my heart I already know the answer, I’d like to think it were not this one but history and knowledge of myself tells me — no, I would grumble and complain, my voice would not be praising God from prison.
Paul, the worshiper, commands:
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. (Philippians 4:4 ESV)
I don’t know how to do this. I’m not even sure how to learn how to do this. How will I praise God when suffering unless I can learn this?
Finishing off posts I began writing months ago.
Holding the hand of a child when she slipped, preventing her getting hurt — just as my Father holds me.
Unwrapping the last Easter egg, anticipation, wanting sweetness, needing life.
Rain on the tin roof.
Relaxing under the shower of Your Word as it washes over me.
A wife who can read me better than I can see the signs myself.
A helpful and understanding doctor.
rain has finally ceased, I see blue sky, sunlight even!
Old smelly dog lying by the fire.
Aching emptiness paralyzing — it means something I haven’t yet discovered.
Word habits, drawing me back to You.
A busy weekend.
My little boy’s fascination and delight watching model railways.
The adoration of a dog reminding me to worship (thank you, David B.).
Audiobook speaking when I’m unable to read.
Water resting in torrent-hewn pools.
Brightness from even a grey sky.
Her example — walk when in the grey.
Breathing deeply through pain.
Walking slowly, carefully, through slippery miry clay.
Forest bursting full with the cycle of life.
Swinging legs and arms energizing me.
fantails flitting around me, being fed by our Father (Matthew 6:26).
Fingers pink and puffy from cold.
Coming home to warmth.
Life given by God, breathed across silver, creating a song of grace in worship to God.