There is No One Like You (Adv, Days 23/24; HelloGoodBye 09/10) [REPOST]
“I want men everywhere to lift up holy hands in prayer.”
–I Timothy 2.8, NIV
There are these days, when it is so difficult to find words that wrap around concepts, that, no matter how concrete in one’s mind, find it impossible to find substance in the barrier we use to communicate called language. In those moments, it seems that experience does precede existence and existentialism, for a moment, seems fun (and fun is clearly the wrong word, but for to-day, for this beautiful-day-before-Advent, will have to do).
Mr. Crowder crowed through the speakers “There is nooooo-one like You…” and in the seconds that followed slivers of eternity slipped through the wall of sound. The elders bowed, the beasts bellowed and the saints sang in holy adoration “Holy, Holy, Holy…”
Hope leaks into life in the most unexpected ways, ways that we’d never ask for, but cannot do without. We’d never ask for them because they hurt oh-so-badly; we cannot do without them because they are the pearls of great price, treasures to be cherished.
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I’ve been more intentional about writing lately (and the reason for that is coming…). The past two-and-a-half years have been epic, at the very least. The genesis of the journey was in March of O-Six, high-lighted by a late-night {spiritual} beat-down in July {thank you, Mark Driscoll}, and punctuated with new life that October. Two months later, on a frigid Friday in December, Pittsburgh was finally in view. Six apartments, three cities, and 80,000 miles on the Interstate later I landed just where I jumped from. I didn’t expect it, honestly, to be back here so soon, if ever…
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There is No One Like You (Adv, Days 23/24; HelloGoodBye 08/09)
“I want men everywhere to lift up holy hands in prayer.”
–I Timothy 2.8, NIV
There are these days, when it is so difficult to find words that wrap around concepts, that, no matter how concrete in one’s mind, find it impossible to find substance in the barrier we use to communicate called language. In those moments, it seems that experience does precede existence and existentialism, for a moment, seems fun (and fun is clearly the wrong word, but for to-day, for this beautiful-day-before-Advent, will have to do).
Mr. Crowder crowed through the speakers “There is nooooo-one like You…” and in the seconds that followed slivers of eternity slipped through the wall of sound. The elders bowed, the beasts bellowed and the saints sang in holy adoration “Holy, Holy, Holy…”
(more…)
