Today, as the storm Ester pours out its wet anger over our house, and there’s a flood sitting outside, rendering most immobile, my heart drifts back to that one experience that shifted my perspective.


Remember this. Always, always

Because if something was repaired during these times, it was my perspective. And I look back to it with the images of kids, barefoot, walking with me along the palm-perched, tucked-away neighborhood. We only stayed for three days, but for me, those days stretched long. READ THE STORY HERE

Sometimes, God has to break through our roofs — our stubborn heads and safe shelters — so He could flood us with His inescapable light. I always fear of roofs flying or floors cracking, but I know I have been safe for so long, and God is not all about safe.

Imagine how terrifying it would be to see those large, universe-forming hands breaking through your walls as if they were chunks of carton. He removes them, one by one, then stares down from the big, gaping hole, recognizing you and your flaws. “I SEE YOU.”

And in a position where you can’t hide, where you’d curl up helplessly in a corner while mumbling your sorrys, He removes everything completely so He, His Largeness, His Greatness, His Loving-kindness, can pour down and soak you through and through. The Light comes in.

God, I’m scared. But I’m more scared to stay under these roofs and not be in Your blinding, warm light. Break through if You must. I permit You.

I’ll get right back when God has broken in and blazed me through