What can I shape with my hands that will stand a memorial of the place where you met me? My creations turn to dust in this oxygen bound atmosphere. So instead I pick up immortal words and shape them into a hallelujah.
Let the sound of the words reverberate through the hollows. Let them be a sliver of light on darkest night. Let them draw together the hallelujahs from a hundred souls, rolling them together until the sound is an unfettered roar with a steady thrum running through it’s core. There is hope, life, unmeasured grace for the most undeserving soul. Together our hallelujahs breath collective, Messiah.
In your gratefulness for what God has done when he met you in a moment of impossible need, what have you done to mark the moment? And in your everyday what is a thing you or a place you go that acts as an altar, a place where you open intentional relationship with God?
“And there they stood; those priests carrying the Chest of the Covenant stood firmly planted on dry ground in the middle of the Jordan [river] while all Israel crossed on dry ground. Finally the whole nation was across the Jordan, and not one wet foot. When the whole nation was finally across, God spoke to Joshua: “Select twelve men from the people, a man from each tribe, and tell them, ‘From right here, the middle of the Jordan where the feet of the priests are standing firm, take twelve stones. Carry them across with you and set them down in the place where you camp tonight.’”…a stone for each of the tribes of the People of Israel, so you’ll have something later to mark the occasion. When your children ask you, ‘What are these stones to you?’ you’ll say, ‘The flow of the Jordan was stopped in front of the Chest of the Covenant of God as it crossed the Jordan—stopped in its tracks. These stones are a permanent memorial for the People of Israel.’” [Joshua 3:17 – 4:7]