All in Worship
When I shouted back my retort, I was bringing to mind the great things my Dad had done—the great feats of strength he’d accomplished.
I have found that in my moments of deepest apathy, the only truth that binds me to God's presence, is the foundation shaking truth of his absolute goodness.
Even though unspoken, those many years ago, I pledged with Reepicheep to sink with my nose to the sunrise. I charted a course that followed the signs and resolved to open my eyes to glimpses of glory and hints of heaven.
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust".
I have a growing disdain for new songs. I have a growing conviction that those who dismiss ancient songs on the basis of their publication date, do so to their own detriment. In other words, we ought to be singing more hymns!
He settled himself once again into that comfortable cushion. The soft creaking of the timber seemed suddenly out of place. All else was eerily silent.
The gospel was never intended to serve a fraction of our lives or live out an existence behind the decimal point of your week. The gospel should not, and must not, be relegated to a single slice of the pie in the chart of your life.
"Let my sighs give way to songs that sing about your faithfulness
Let my pain reveal your glory as my only real rest
Let my losses show me all I truly have is you."