Closed eyes, bowed head.
Just here now.
“Be still and know that I am God.”
Stop rushing.
The golden-wood table with sticky black currant jam and the chair-scraping, coffee-grinding, silverware-clinking, piano-playing, European language din. And the gray-snow-blue-light out the window.
Thank you for here. Thank you for now, God.
Please enter into this moment – February 2011 in Moscow – and fill it with Your glory and fullness.
Speak. Reign. In the cinnamon and cigarette smoke and flute on the radio.
Come Lord Jesus. Help me to see You and listen to You. Teach me, show me how to live. How to come alive.
