This morning I was moved during worship. I often fight back tears during the music at church nowadays. I don't know if I'm just getting soft, or if it has more to do with the journey of life. Like many of you, my path has not been the expected one.
This morning, as the lights were down and during a particularly moving worship lyric I looked ahead a few rows and across the aisle. Facing me (actually not me, but my direction) was a woman signing the words to the song. Facing her was a large man singing/signing. I was struck. His worship was a beautiful thing. And I'm sure angels were moved... and the Father smiled.
At that moment, the man was not a Deaf-American or Hearing-impaired American; there was only one label that described him in the moment. He was a child of God. A brother. A worshiper singing to his King.
Like I said, just an observation. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Oh, and when the lights came up later I noticed this worshiper, this child of God, happened to have a skin color unlike my own.
It changed nothing. As a matter of fact, in the light of worship, I couldn't tell.
There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free,
there is no male and female, for
you are all one in Christ Jesus.
-- Galatians 3:28
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