I have a confession to make. I used to stand in church and watch the hand-raising type of Christian and feel embarrassed for the poor soul. Yep. Just keeping it real. I was way too cool to do something like that. Or maybe not cool enough. Either way, I wasn’t doing it.
Then HE changed me. I lost everything I thought I had. Everything I had ever wanted. All fell apart and I was left empty.
From you comes my praise… Psalm 22:25
Tears invaded. When despair took over the moments, I found sanctuary in worship. My soul cried out to the ONE WHO SEES (Gen 16:13). Sleep wouldn’t come, so I sang. Melodies of truth filled my head, drowning out the lies. Tear-stained Bible in my lap, I praised HIM. All. The. Time. I honestly didn’t know what else to do. I thought a lot about my Jesus-freak sisters that raised their arms in worship. I wanted that. No. I couldn’t live another minute without that. My heart was starved for true love. The love that I was made for. The love I always had, but never acknowledged.
It took losing it all to understand that all I ever had was God.
For the first time in my life, the words of those songs brought tears. Uncontrollable worship began to define me. My hands wouldn’t stay down. It didn’t seem so awkward anymore. I wanted more of HIM and didn’t care who was watching.
From HIM comes my praise. I praise HIM because he is still God. HIS words are true. Because He is faithful and He NEVER lets go. From HIM, comes my praise.
I finally knew the truth. I am HIS daughter. In the agony, I am held.
By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. Psalm 42:8
I still really don’t raise my hands in church much and you probably won’t find me break dancing in the aisles. Perhaps it’s because I am too busy spending time with my Father to even think about those things. Or maybe my break dancing days are yet to come…
Last updated byat .