Stillness

It is late. I have an early appointment tomorrow morning, but I'm not quite ready for sleep. It is a quiet night. It rained hard this afternoon, satisfying the earth and leaving everything fresh and renewed. There is no restlessness in this night. The air is cool, and even the crickets are quiet. Sometimes silence and stillness embody greater worship that the loudest praises.

I will be writing of my journey with Campus Crusade for Christ at UT on this blog, and it probably would have been smart and logical and appropriate to write a big explanation of what I'll be doing in the fall, and what I'm doing now, for my first post...

But tonight the earth is quiet. There is a breeze blowing through my window, and the creation herself invites me to join in quiet reverence of the Creator. And so I will walk outside, feel the wind on my face, smell the dampness of the earth and the incredible fragrance of Smoky Mountain summers, and rejoice in the paradox that is my existence - such insignificance, just a breath, and then gone; yet made utterly significant by the One who brings the rain.