What does it mean to witness a miracle?
Is it something instantaneous that happens in the blink of an eye? Or something bright and furious that comes in like lightning and roars like thunder? Is it something softer like the birth of a child and the last whisper of a special beloved?
I’m not sure about all that,
But I am sure I have witnessed a miracle. It wasn’t flashy, instantaneous, grandiose or even seen.
It happened in the dark, in a place where no one would look twice.
It started with a crushed soul and ended in power.
Not the power that harms or controls, intimidates or abuses. It’s the power that comes from within.
The power to be calm, listen, understand, empathize, be curious, weep, be silent and praise in humility.
It’s the power that was given by a rescuer.
To a soul, who was watching, ready, willing and able. A soul who chose to be revealed – rather than stay the same.
This miracle happened deep in the secret, collecting nourishment from a Father that loved so hard it broke.
Broke the hardness, aggression, pride, defenses, control and confusion.
Broke the fear, bondage, denial and avoidance.
And the result of that breaking became whole.
The thing about miracle’s is: they are prayed for, requested, interceded, groaned and ached for, wept over, sweat, tears, agonizing heart strings, pulling for the change to take place.
I asked, prayed, wept, groaned, agonized – in places you will never know, all for the miracle.
The miracle is living, breathing and active. It is ever evolving, flourishing everywhere it touches as it roots itself deeply into the soul.
You are that miracle, the Soul set aflame: Rescued by a Redeemer, Saved by grace and moving from glory to glory until Jesus cracks the sky.
And I’m lucky to have a front row seat.
You are not alone.