I grew up in the South Suburbs of Chicago. My neighborhood and schools were made up of black, white, and brown people. Some black people were violent, some white people were violent, and some brown people were violent. I witnessed with my own eyes a white male teacher physically assaults a young black woman in the hallway. “Go to the principal,” the teacher said, “Who will he believe, Me, or you.” I saw that girl crumble into herself with fear and shame. She never told.
Some black people were good and wonderful people, some white people were good and wonderful people, and some brown people were good and wonderful people. I witnessed countless acts of love and unity between races in our community.
I grew up not judging someone based upon the color of their skin, what car they drove, or where their house was. I got to know people as individuals. I had white, black and brown friends. It was normal for me and the people around me. There were racists, no doubt. White people infuriated by the black and brown people moving into their white neighborhoods. Their prejudice left when they all moved away, which was good in a way. It was sad to see how many of the people I had known my whole life, seemingly with good character and morals, run for their lives to all white communities to hide. It sickened me. It made me realize how deep the racial divide was in the hearts and minds of white men and women.
Our church split because a majority of white people did not want to invite their new black and brown neighbors to worship with them. They wanted to uproot the entire body of believers and move to an all-white neighborhood mile away from the changing one.
I was again, dumbstruck at the atrocious behavior of “Jesus Followers” I had looked up to and admired my entire life. Men stood up and shook angry fists during church services and business meetings. Harsh angry words, unrepeatable and unforgiveable. I remember being 17, completely speechless at the behavior of these adults. What was amazing in the midst of all of this was our pastor. He was an unshakable, unmovable pillar of strength. He stood strong and true to the real Jesus. The Jesus that loves all the children of the world, Red, Yellow, Black and White. The bad guys left. The church flung open its doors to the community, and quickly became a truly multi-ethnic place of worship, one of the only ones I’ve ever seen.
The racial divide in our country is unacceptable. Thank God for cell phone videos and pictures to record the horrific acts of violence that have marked our country since it’s birth. Our nation was built on the backs of black slavery. Never, ever forget that. George Washinton himself owned hundreds of slaves. He didn’t regard them as equal. The sin of racism is as deep as the roots of our great nation.
I beg you to repent if you are inclined to view one race higher or lower than another. Repent and find the true Jesus, the one who loves all men and women, all the races with equality.
The real Jesus doesn’t use racial slurs or roll His eyes at black men and women demonstrating and marching for peace. The real Jesus stands among them, because He too, was forcefully and unjustly maligned and killed. The real Jesus marches on, spreading joy and light and peace. Join the real Jesus. Be free from the ties that bind our hands and hearts to the ties that bind us and have bound us since our nation’s inception.
“But God is the God of the waves and the billows, and they are still His when they come over us; and again and again we have proved that the overwhelming thing does not overwhelm. Once more by His interposition deliverance came. We were cast down, but not destroyed.”
Amy Carmichael was a young single woman alive to the love of Jesus and the mission she was called to at the turn of the last century. She served Him in Southern India, rescuing very young girls from the evil practice of prostitution at the Hindu temples. Eventually she rescued boys, growing her little family to over a thousand children.
One night while walking in the dark, she tripped over a hole in the ground and severely injured her leg. Her injury was not fixable with the medical treatment that was available to her. She was bedridden for the last twenty years of her life- quarantined.
Despite her injury and constant agony and pain, she ran the orphanage and published around 35 books, without the internet, computer or even a typewriter.
God used Amy in amazing ways. Her work in Southern India continues to this day.
She chose Jesus when all else looked helpless. She served God and the people around her wholeheartedly. She said often that her missionary work was nothing else but a chance to die– die to self and be alive in Jesus.
I think of Amy often, I have studied her life for years. I cannot count the number of times I have said to myself, “Amy did it. So can I.” Her life is a symbol to me of Jesus’ love and wholehearted devotion in the midst of extreme suffering. It wasn’t difficult for her to talk to others about the love and grace of Jesus, she saw him in her suffering, because of her suffering, and the suffering of the women and children around her.
Often in difficult times, we see God moving more; People’s hearts are more open. Hardship breeds longing for assurance and hope. There is a commonality in the face of suffering that does not happen in any other way.
You have the best message in the world! God is real! Jesus is alive! The Holy Spirit is Hope!
God the Father will take care of you. Jesus is your friend, forever with you, and the Holy Spirit alive in you will give you the wisdom and strength you need for each new day.
We struggle, but we press on. We are cast down, but we will not be destroyed. God will take care of you.
“Look at the birds of the air. They don’t plant or gather crops. They don’t put away crops in storerooms. But your Father who is in heaven feeds them. Aren’t you worth much more than they are? Can you add even one hour to your life by worrying” ~Jesus
I will never forget the impact of the words flowing over and into me as my friend read me quotes from Macrina’s book a few years ago. I was at a place and space in my life where I needed input, healing and direction. Somehow, her words landed in my soul, sunk deeply, and took root. I was on a personal retreat so I bought Macrina’s book Seasons of Your Heart and was drawn in immediately and intensely.
I was mesmerized by both her writing style, and the depth of Macrina’s own thoughts. In my own way, I recognized her soul’s thoughts as very similar to my own. Her writing style, so very similar to my own. I needed to learn more from this woman. I had found a new mentor from afar.
I stalked Macrina on Facebook and was quite surprised when she accepted my friend request. I am sure I wrote her an incredibly overbearing and animated messages, trying not to sound like a stalker, but assert myself so she knows I’m serious voice. I tried to convey to her what her work meant to me. Macrina was patient and kind in response, so I asked her if I prsumptively could come visit her. Again, much to my surprise and joy, a friend and I went to visit her and learn from her just a few months later on a retreat.
Macrina is a Benedictine Monk, living in St. Scholastica Monastery in Fort Smith Arkansas. I had never met a monk, let alone one who was a woman. I had no idea that was a thing. She explained to me that they are Monastics, Thus “Monks” in the Benedictine tradition.
I soaked up everything Macrina had to teach me, in her patient and kind way. She laughs so well and is so fun to be around. I learned silence and solitude from her. I learned that life, in all its twists and turns, ups and downs is always there to teach us and point us to God. Even our character flaws can teach us, she taught me. Once we acknowledge their existence, we can begin to be honest and grow from there.
Over the years, I’ve been to a few of Macrina’s retreats, and have developed a true friendship with her. I was so excited to find out that she was working on a new book called
The premise of her book is this: The teachers we can learn from are often the ones we normally want to shrug off, ignore, or hide because of shame or pride. Some of the voices are more positive and familiar to us. What if we tuned in and truly welcomed these teachers, asked God what he was trying to teach us through them, and then listen and wait?
Here is an excerpt from Macrina’s book The Flowing Grace Of Now.
Here is an exercise in humility you might want to try sometime this week—perhaps every day this week. Use your imagination and throw a banquet for the crippled, blind, and lame parts of yourself. Invite your doubts, your pride, and your superiority and arrogance. Invite your resentments, your selfishness, your narrow-mindedness, and your prejudice. In all probability, you won’t find any of these invited guests trying to claim the first place. They will more likely all climb into the chair reserved for you. Here is one last suggestion. Treat each of these guests with reverence. Try to discover what this invitee is to teach you. O lavish Caregiver, Each day I am invited to your feast of life. Teach me to be grateful as I take my place at the table of plenty. Show me how to honor even my faults. They teach me humility. They have the potential of being transformed into something beautiful. They can become my teachers. May I learn to listen to my life. Your teacher for the week will be the crippled and lame parts of yourself. Our faults and weaknesses can become our best teachers. Choose one each day this week. Try to discern why it is a part of your life.
Macrina’s book takes the reader through the weeks of the year, with a suggestion of a “teacher” for each of those weeks. Her insights are powerful and help me center my soul, focus again on Jesus and remember that all of life is here to learn from. I highly suggest this wonderful book! Macrina is a beautiful person and a wonderful friend to all who turn the pages of her books.
How to Share Words From God in a safe, wholesome, God-honoring way.
The one who prophesies speaks to people for their strengthening, encouraging and comfort” (1 Corinthians 14:3).
Prophecy. Pretty much every time I think of the word, I think of some negative or scary thing someone has told me came from God, such as, “God told me you are supposed to be in charge of women’s ministry” or God says he will heal you if you only lay down your need for control” It’s unfortunate that I think that is pretty much everyone’s response when they hear that word. It’s weird, almost creepyish and definitely very old-testament-ish.
One time when I was in high school, a friend invited me and my best friend Lisa to her youth group since she always visited ours and we had never been to hers. When We got there, all seemed normal. There was a worship time, a small teaching time, and then…. the talk about gifts of the Holy Spirit took a wild turn. The man stopped mid-sentence and blurted, “Wait. God is telling me something. Everyone yelled their amen’s and praise the Lord’s.
My friend Lisa and I often talked abut God’s miracles and loved him with all of our hearts. We were wholehearted believers. But…this man went from a quiet whisper to a gigantic shouting preaching voice in 3 seconds flat. I startled a little, and so did Lisa. He started yelling, “God is telling me that some of you all do not speak in tongues! How can you call yourselves worshippers of the Holy Spirit when you deny His power and language? How can you communicate the deep things of the spirit without the language of the holy one?”
My friends and I were slightly amused, because we were sarcastic teenage girls. We nervously giggled. The man pointed at me and Lisa and shouted, “YOU MUST REPENT, THUS SAYETH THE LORD OF HOSTS”. Right after that, he continued in his very loud preacher voice, “Now…God is telling me that those of you who already have received a the gift of tongues, go stand against that wall… Shaking his head, he said, “I don’t know why he is sayingthat, but OBEY! About seventy five percent of teenage boys and girls and adult youth group leaders clamored metal chairs and hustled to the wall. He then said, “The Lord is telling me that all of you need to start speaking in tongues NOW!”
They all, in unison, began yelling, chanting, and raising each of their voices, louder than the next. The man, again, said, “You who are left…the Lord of hosts need you to RUN to the wall, partner up with ones speaking in tongues, and mimic every syllable that comes out of their mouths until you begin to flow in the Holy Spirit language. Go! Run! Be reborn.
There were three people left in the audience on folded metal chairs. Me, Lisa, and an elderly woman looking utterly bewildered, politely smiling, but not running like the rest. God bless her.
The man began SHOUTING. With his eyes closed, “The lord is telling me, wait a minute, the Lord is telling me there are wicked and arrogant sinners here that refuse his anointing. This is your time! Run tothe wall! Run to the wall!”
He then opened his eyes and pointed his finger at us, two very bewildered teenagers. No teenager likes to be pointed out in a crowd for any reason. So, me and Lisa stood to our feet, pushed our chairs back and RAN the other way to the very tiny Sunday school bathroom to hide.
Our friend found us there later and profusely apologized. Needless to say, she didn’t ask us to come to her youth group ever again and we were glad.
This is a nightmare story, and if my friend and I had been alone, or couldn’t brush it off, it could have been a very emotionally destructive occurrence. But we were together, knew who we were in Jesus, and had a very good story to tell afterword’s. We were ok.
Story Number two.
I had a friend in high school named Mike whose father was a drug dealer and addict. He had a brain aneurysm on a Wednesday. I remember it so clearly, because of how devised Mike was when he called to tell me. I prayed for his dad. Everyone did.
That night at Mike’s church, his pastor stood in front of his congregation and prophesied that Mikes dad would be healed, restored and redeemed to Jesus by the next Wednesday. Mike believed his pastor, because this pastor had always been his spiritual leader. Why would it be a mistake? Mike trusted this man implicitly, and he called me later to tell me his good news. I worried. Everyone who knew him worried, even though of course we wanted his dad to be healed, restored and redeemed by Jesus. We wanted nothing else.
For a week we prayed for him. Wednesday came, and Mike’s dad passed away shortly after noon that day. Mike and his mother went into a deep depression, Mike was never the same, first for losing his dad, second for losing his faith in God and the church. I hope and pray that wherever he is, He knows that Jesus loves him, and some pastors are doing their best with what they know. Pastors mess up sometimes too. And some pastors are just very messed up.
Mikes pastors mistake wasn’t funny like what Lisa and I experienced. It was lethal. His prophecy wounded our friend so deeply that he never was quite the same. His prophetic word destroyed, did not build up. What could have this pastor done differently? What could Mike have done differently?
We tend to fall into two different categories when it comes to sharing a prophetic leading/prompting: Too timid or too bold. Our hope is to find the balance of humility and authority.
Story number three
When Rob and I were working in full time youth ministry, we taught our teenagers about the ways God can speak to us. That he is and always will be faithful. Around that time, I started to see rainbows every day. In the sky, in magazines, on tv, on stickers in the grocery store, in random magazine adds. Every single day, I would see a rainbow. I asked God, “What is this? Why? I know by now this is you God. No one could have planned this.” His gentle answer came back, “I am faithful to you, to your family, to all generations.” Around the same time, God had given Rob an image of an eagle. He heard God say the eagle was about strength, leadership, dignity. Strong spirits. We knew these two symbols were what we were supposed to pray over and share with our teenagers. Teenagers have way softer hearts than most adults. They may have rough exteriors, but inside, they aren’t too jaded by the world yet. Some, yes, but generally, their souls were still malleable and could be coaxed and melded by the authority of God’s word in us, through us, in them, in the word of God.
These were prophetic words and images that God gave us. Just like that, the kids in our youth ministry started seeing these symbols everywhere. It was sort of a private thing at first with the kids who were a part of what we called the extreme team. They told their friends, who told their friends, and so on. They started praying for a revival. That God would show his strength and faithfulness to their homes, their schools, their generation. Their faith way exceeded my own.
We were on a mission trip to Juarez, Mexico. One of the places we went to evangelize was in the town square. One of our team slogans, was, “If you’re not up, you’re down. “Kids who were sharing the gospel were up, kidswho weren’t, were on the sidelines, doing the hard work of praying. Mobs of people came over to us. We were a curiosity, no doubt. Juarez was a very dangerous city, and they ogled at us dumb American teenagers singing horrible vacation bible songs with horrible American dialect of their Spanish language. It did not matter. Those kids were fierce, and boldly approached the throne of Jesus. They prayed for salvation of these souls.
All of a sudden, dark clouds began to form over the plaza where we stood. The kids raised their hands to the sky and prayed the rain clouds away. I kid you not, it began to rain to the north, south, east and west of the square in which we stood. They held their arms to the sky, praying some more, non-phased by the apparent miracle. After the teens spoke, we disbursed throughout the crowd and began to speak to the audience members through translators, or if they spokeEnglish, we spoke one on one.
Rob happened to be praying for two young men. He asked them, “Are you ready to accept Jesus and invite him into your lives as your lord and Savior?” The instant he said that last word, a lightning bolt shot down from the heavens and hit a transformer directly across the street. The men jumped, and loudly with fear n their voices replied “YES” We must do this.” The wind began to blow, and the storm surrounding us dissipated.
The kids were celebrating with joy the obvious presence of the Holy spirit. The people quietly left, and we gathered our team in a huddle. One student lifted her face, the newly shining sun on her face, pointedstraight up, with almost a look of terror, we all looked up. Above the plaza, over our team, there was a rainbow in the sky. Some began to weep. I was too awe-stricken to do anything. And then, we realized that the monument we were standing around, at the very top there was an eagle. There are no words to convey the depth of the blessing we all knew we were ap part of. We sang, we celebrated like wild party people all the way home. Jesus was in our presence. We knew. We knew with everything in us that God is faithful. He loved us enough to show us. We knew to our depths that God was our strength, just like the eagle. He was our deliverer from the evil in ourworld.
We were all permanently changed by this. First the prophecy of the rainbow. God promising his faithfulness to us. Then the promise of his strength through the eagle.
Were these prophecies damaging in any way? Was anyone’s soul harmed from trusting in God’s faithfulness or in his strength? How do we know if a prophecy someone gives us is real or fake? True or misleading? It’s not easy, but there are some parameters that are helpful:
Five Internal Markers of Authenticity
Revelation from God carries greater love than your own thoughts. It is also characterized by a deeper wisdom, insight, and kindness. There will be times where you’ll think to yourself, “Wow! That is good stuff!” and you’ll know there is no way you could possibly have dreamed that up yourself.
Something that is from God will often cause a resonating response within you. You have a sense of holy reverence, or great excitement and expectation, or conviction of sin (which comes with hope and not condemnation), or a deep peace that might well be in contrast to the circumstances.
A prophetic word also carries within it the seed of faith to see it through to fulfillment. What we mean is that when someone embraces a word, there is a release of strength, perseverance, and desire to follow the Lord on the pathway that He is highlighting, in spite of any obstacles
There is a sense of simplicity and clarity about the arrival of the prophetic message. : While we might need to wait in God’s presence for a little while to hear from Him, don’t forget that a prophetic word will usually come simply and easily. The actual revelation tends to gently float down upon us or springs up on us.
The voice of Jesus will have a net-positive impact strengthening, comforting, and encouraging.Jesus says I come that they might have life and have it to the full. The prophetic word will be life-giving. Jesus does not work in shame or condemnation. Not ever.
Between these three stories, which brought life? Which brought hope. All of the people giving the prophecies were genuine. They thought they were doing the right thing. Where are the differences? Sit with your 4 or 5 people and ask one another to come up with some thoughts
Most importantly, remember the love. Jesus is love. People speaking harmful or hurtful words claiming they are directly from the mouth of God should ALWAYS be questioned. Our God is a God of love. Remember the fruits of the spirit -Love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. If the word you are sharing with someone else lines up with all of these, I’d say it was safe to share, if not, just don’t. You’re not helping, and possibly harming that person.
The best and most consistent way to hear from God is the B-I-B-L-E. God’s word is life and love, and all good things.
*The KC Underground has been studying the book “Hearing the Voice of God” by Alex and Hannah Absolom. I shared portions of their book above.
When you leave a church and have been in that church’s active ministry, it’s hard. It’s hard, because so many people misunderstand. It’s hard because people tell people what they heard, leaving a long and confused string of thoughts and ideas about why the leavers left. It’s hard because it is a loss-both to the leaver and to the stay-er. The sense of loss on either end no doubt can be measured by the investment of time in the place, and the people of the church.
In my experience, we have only served at really large churches, and I am guessing the “large” mega-ness of these mega churches only amplify feelings, raw emotion, words, insinuation, etc., although I have also learned that People are People Wherever You Go. I am sure small churches have issues that are just as difficult to navigate. For myself and our family, we’ve lived large, and that can come with a lot of interesting factors when raw emotion and sincere beliefs are mixed without much direction for how to handle t hem in a healthy and productive way.
Rob was a pastor at Granger Community Church for 21 – 22 ish years. We moved to Kansas in 2014 so he could serve on the pastoral team at Westside family church. We’ve lived in Kansas almost five years now. It is difficult for me to believe Belle was in third grade when we moved here. Whitney was finishing up eighth grade, and Maddie finishing up her freshman year in high school. The girls are now 20, 18 and 15. Belle has her drivers permit. I still cannot wrap my head around that, considering such a short time ago we packed up her Polly Pockets, Barbies and Littlest Pet Shop toys.
Leaving Granger was by far the most difficult decision Rob and I have ever made, because it broke our hearts to leave a place, we poured so much life and love into. Nearing the end of our time there, I was feeling bewildered, un-needed, unnecessary. Rob was working harder and harder to fix everything that was wrong in that moment, I had my hands utterly full with three delightfully spirited girls, so much so that I forgot that my feelings lay somewhere below the surface of my busyness. I forgot Rob had feelings too.
When I allowed myself to slow down, I realized I was sad that Rob was never home on the weekends. I was sad that my friendships frequently went wonky because of his position in the church and community. My friends would disagree with something church related, which they absolutely had a right to do, and it was often too difficult to navigate issues too complex for me to figure, in order to save the relationship. There seemed to be more that was complicated in our lives than what made sense. It was hard.
Rob was given a sabbatical as a gift for a “Job well done” after serving 20 years at Granger. That summer we sat with friends and Soul Care professionals Steve and Gwen Smith at the Potter’s Inn. They peeled back those painful layers so we could see the raw emotion we were both stifling under the surface of our lives. It was incredibly painful to come to terms with the fact that the way we were living was not good or healthy for ourselves, our family, or for anyone. We decided together that it was time to change the scenery and save our marriage and family. We needed to make some drastic changes.
And so we did. As I have mentioned, there were ripples and waves of discussion and speculation. I wrote a post the day Rob resigned, published it two hours before the announcement came. I was instantly and permanently shamed from the inside circles, people I loved and adored, raised babies with, prayed with, vacationed with, etc. in one moment turned against me. I was devastated and confused. It knocked me down for a long, long time. I loved the people of Granger with all my heart. My post simply stated that we were tired, we needed to focus on our marriage and family, “mega” was not working for us any longer, and we needed to move on. I was hoping my post would help explain that. To many it did. To several it did not.
Along with the negative, there were hundreds of positive words and kind thoughts sent our way. Why is it that the few less than kind comments hurt the most? I’m not sure. I wish I were mature enough to dismiss them with grace, shielding my heart in the most appropriate way, while navigating the pain in a perfect way that never stepped on the toes of anyone ever. But I have found I am not that person. Not at all. I say what is. I cannot say more or less. I have lived a long forty five years, and have found that the most comfortable in my own skin I’ve ever been are the times I’ve shared my truth without the commentary of a hundred voices in my head. I listened to and tried to please everyone, and that was part of my demise. I can’t please everyone. I cant make everyone happy, or even like me.
Here we find ourselves, at the crossroads of another ending and a new beginning. Rob left Westside Family Church in November, and now…we are planting our own church, The KC Underground. We are loving it, serving together and living it together, as we love to do.
There are many differences in why we left both Granger and Westside, but I have changed, quite a lot. What did I learn from what really hurt?
A few things. I learned that:
1: My heart is worth guarding. I do whatever I need to do to keep my heart safe.
2: To trust the few, rather than the many. My close friends and confidants are the ones I lean and depend on. The public-ness of our lives does not mean that the public can have full access to my words, thoughts and feelings.
3: To make my closest allies people who are not affiliated with my husband’s workplace. These friends can offer fair perspective because the only skin they have in the game is their relationship with me, not with me, my husband, and whole church.
4: Not to take criticism too much to heart. I can let criticism crush me. I’m learning to take in what I need to and let the rest go. Words can hurt, but only if I let them.
5: Jesus is my best, best friend. Walking with Jesus down lonely roads has made me stronger than I have ever been. His love and grace and poured over me and in me, capturing my heart and imagination, setting my soul on fire.
If you are in full time ministry or church work, prepare yourself for the comings and goings before they happen. Keep your soul healthy as you know how. Trust Jesus and let your friends love you. Stay strong and remember your true north. Your soul is worth it.
The Sunset Tree, in all its brilliance, has held so many rainbows high on the horizon, so many sunsets in the forever stretching western Kansas sky.
The weight of that glory from a million sunsets and a few hundred rainbows was too heavy, as the trees arms grew tired with wind whistling at her back storms blowing her branches for centuries. She lifted her arms to the most brilliant sunset her tree eyes had ever seen, then beheld a cloud full of lightning and wind coming her way. She smiled as the wind blew her branches. The leaves clapped for joy and danced in the wind and rain. She sighed, breathed out, her core broken, and gave her spirit up to God and her body to the wind.
There was a loud thud heard for a mile, earthy dust billowing from beneath her windswept body. The dust held a magic though—it knew the secrets of the tree, the glory it held had seeped into the earth, wildly electrifying everything around it with living life.
The dust that sparkled blew and blew and blew away on the wind, far as the eye could see. The magic landed here and there, glory to be found only with the most careful eye, by the Noticers. These souls are special. God gave their spirit eyes a gift to see the glimmer of God in the wind, through prairies, over mountains, desert savannah’s and high on the seas.
If you are a Noticer, you already know. In sleepy dreams or awake, you know that glory, and you are learning it by name. You don’t know what to call it, but you will. Just notice for now. You will grow into your soul eyes in time.
Live in wide eyed wonder for what holds up sunsets and rainbows. Tell your secrets, but only to a few.
You have probably guessed, but I am a Noticer too—So, my sacred bit of wisdom to you is this-
Every evening when the sun is setting, keep your eyes alert for magic especially then. Everything glitters in sunlight and moonlight. The places in the morning where the night fades into day…you will find the glory spots most bright.
Look for the trees that awaken the day with songs of praise. The yellow flowers on the hill beaming back the magic light of morning light back to the sun, the birds that sing the loudest are the ones who used to perch on the old wise branches of The Sunset Tree. They are her messengers. Listen to them.
These are only the places I have seen the sparkle of glory. So it’s your turn to Notice and tell about the places my eyes have not seen. Look high, look low, and do tell, but only to a few
There is a sacred to this glory
You will only understand one day when you are maybe as old as the Sunset Tree on the hill that once held up the Western sky. Listen, watch, wonder, and Notice the glory most especially when you see the sparkle of your own eyes in a mirror.
You sparkle and shine with the dust of the earth alive with the glory of the One whose hand created, and feet that once walked on it. I see it in your soulish eyes. Do you?