All things were made through Him, and without Him was not any thing made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. John 1: 3-4
The room is dark. So that all of our attention is on the Light. The throbbing drums... such a cute little drummer, all of fifteen or sixteen. Waves of glory pound over and under.
My hope is built on nothing less
than Jesus' blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
but wholly lean on Jesus' name.
I know the lyrics. But this is not my father’s church service. Pulsing red disco lights and leaping and bounding bodies in almost every direction, but mostly up. Elevate is the name of the game. I glance over a little nervously at Frederic’s parents. There are only a few people in this room over twenty, and most of them are the three of us.
Their hands shot up in the air. The biggest fattest smiles ever on their faces. Swaying to Jesus is our Hope. Jesus is our Cornerstone.
“This has been the highlight of our trip to America. And right after that, family dinner. There were tears in my eyes when I said good-bye to your mother.”
What is this life? The fresh, verdant coils they can see taken hold in their son’s very being? It is tangible. And now, how to frame it into words.
The Word.
Alice asks, “What is a cornerstone?”
The cornerstone is the big solid rock, perfectly formed, that builders use to line up everything else. The foundation upon which everything is built. Is made. Without Him, there was not any thing made that was made. Any thing. Two separate words to underline that each and every isolated particle came from His light. Not really. Nothing is isolated. Each subatomic particle is part of a big huge dance. A celebration of Who He Is. A crazy, wild, jumping, joyful dance. Beyond our imagination.
In Him was life. Is life. Will be life forever.
Amen.
The room is dark. So that all of our attention is on the Light. The throbbing drums... such a cute little drummer, all of fifteen or sixteen. Waves of glory pound over and under.
My hope is built on nothing less
than Jesus' blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
but wholly lean on Jesus' name.
I know the lyrics. But this is not my father’s church service. Pulsing red disco lights and leaping and bounding bodies in almost every direction, but mostly up. Elevate is the name of the game. I glance over a little nervously at Frederic’s parents. There are only a few people in this room over twenty, and most of them are the three of us.
Their hands shot up in the air. The biggest fattest smiles ever on their faces. Swaying to Jesus is our Hope. Jesus is our Cornerstone.
“This has been the highlight of our trip to America. And right after that, family dinner. There were tears in my eyes when I said good-bye to your mother.”
What is this life? The fresh, verdant coils they can see taken hold in their son’s very being? It is tangible. And now, how to frame it into words.
The Word.
Alice asks, “What is a cornerstone?”
The cornerstone is the big solid rock, perfectly formed, that builders use to line up everything else. The foundation upon which everything is built. Is made. Without Him, there was not any thing made that was made. Any thing. Two separate words to underline that each and every isolated particle came from His light. Not really. Nothing is isolated. Each subatomic particle is part of a big huge dance. A celebration of Who He Is. A crazy, wild, jumping, joyful dance. Beyond our imagination.
In Him was life. Is life. Will be life forever.
Amen.
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