Come and listen to what He's done.
My heart bursts as I meditate on the lyrics of this song from David Crowder Band.
I know the words will not suffice, but I simply can not contain it in this moment.
As I reflect on the joys I've had the past few days, I am filled with gratitude... The celebration of 100 days of school and more, the 'louwanj' (praise) that has been testified by so many through the services at church, the view from my new favourite spot in the mountains, laughter that has been shared on a dusty ride up the mission hill, plaintains sizzling on my stovetop, the heart to hearts on my velvet couch, the sound of an acoustic guitar in the distance... These are just snippets of string that God has woven Himself through. Each provision, each blessing, each miracle.
My cup is full.
It's become apparent to me lately how His presence has accompanied me so closely these days.
My life can be scattered with worries. There are daily let downs. There are moments when I am lonely and afraid. Moments where I want to throw in the towel. But He has taken me from the darkness, and He has hidden me in His hand. He has taken my turbulent wanderings, and given me meaning. He has not abandoned me when everything else crumbles. Each and every time, He covers me with the whisper of His presence and shows me that He is enough.
Where would I be without this love?
And it's not just me.
I see it in the testimonies and lives of those around me.
Stories of provision and favour being poured out. Stories of love. Stories of hope.
This week I had my juniors go back to their memories from the earthquake.
A friend from Canada is developing French curriculum for Christian schools - She sent me an e-mail recently, requesting some testimonies from my kids as input for the Haiti unit she is working on.
My kids journalled about what the earthquake felt like, how their lives have changed since January, and how God has helped them through this time.
My heart swelled when I read Sammy's response.
God was like a big blanket that wraps around you when you are cold, except He wrapped around me to keep me safe.
I find it hard to express how much my heart connects with these words. The reason is, they aren't just words. This is the experience that has been felt by the millions in this country. God's warmth wrapping us up and holding us close and securing our safety. Sammy expressed it beautifully, but it's even more beautiful when you experience it in your life.
This feeling of love and comfort can not be suppressed. It has to be shared. It has to be celebrated.
This Sunday morning, a crowd that will gather before dawn around a bonfire in my Wainfleet church parking lot for Easter and commemorate the empty tomb. Lawn chairs will be filled with people young and old, bundled in hats and blankets, and Tim Hortons coffee and donuts will be served in abundance. It's a tradition that has carried on for years.
This year, I won't sit in the chilly morning air. I won't depart from the service smelling like a smokestack. I won't enjoy a sour cream glazed donut by the fire.
But I will watch the sun rise. The same sun that rises up from the pine trees bordering the church property will appear from behind the Haitian mountains. I will rise early and sit in the stillness as the sun scatters the darkness. I will think about that first Easter morning and the glory that was found. I will rejoice in the love that conquered the grave.
He has risen indeed!
He has saved me from myself.
As Riley quotes from his memorized verse... He pulled me out of the mud and mire, He set my feet on a rock, and He put a new song in my mouth. (Psalm 40)
He gave us the victory. Freedom. Life to the full.
Amazing Grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.
You took the fall, and thought of me.
Oh, how He loves us.
Here I am to worship.
Come and listen.
Come and listen to what He's done.
I am grateful today that we will never stop listening to the things He has done. From the beginning of time until the glory of heaven, we will not cease to hear and witness the splendor of His love.