Committing to write every day, instead of when inspiration strikes, is teaching me to take an expectant stance toward inspiration. It is challenging and expanding my borders of inspiration. Truly, I am not seeing if I cannot notice at least one thing in each day that kindles my fire to write.
Today, it was one boy in a group of kids standing at the front of the church as the service concluded, as they do every week. His face was glowing, beaming really. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, several heads taller than the other children, swaying in perfect rhythm to the music. He was drumming a beat on his legs and nodding his head with the inspired, unreserved passion of a musician who enters into his music.
Sing, oh sing, of my Redeemer,
with His blood He purchased me.
On the cross, He sealed my pardon,
paid the debt, and made me free.
Watching him, I didn't even join in singing the words. I didn't need to. It was worship just to see him dance and drum and sing, just to see the joy busting from his seams. This beautiful boy with Down Syndrome, who looked no more than twelve or thirteen, was leading me in worship, and it was glorious. I could almost see Jesus bobbing and drumming to the music right beside him with the same beaming face, the same uncontainable joy, beckoning me to enjoy Him more like this boy.