The Day Of Catalyst is upon us. It has come. We are going. Our Pastor is going to speak passion and hope into 12,000 hearts from the main stage. I'll watch and be filled with pride and honor that I am a part of this movement in Charlotte. See you there.

In the past three days I'm going on about 10 hours of sleep...so forgive me if I don't make sense.

Sunday morning I wake up to go to sermon at 8:30. My mom came with me. It had been a while since she had come because she had broken her leg and it was too painful to go to Church, stand in line, walk around, worship, stand for the reading if he asked us to, and so on and so forth. Well, her leg is just about all better, so she came with me. It was nice not to have to sit alone.
The sermon was about sex. Not like, skirting around it, really vague, wait until you're older and we'll talk about it sex. It was from Song of Songs, the honeymoon part. And it was real sex. And he talked about real sex, anything there was to be covered about sex, he covered it.
Then, he decided that since the entire series was about relationships and healthy marriages, he wanted to jump start all the married couples and sponsored a date night. For every single married couple in the church. They got cards, picked a restaurant, and within the next two weeks you go to that place and get a $30 gift card. And they'll reimburse childcare. How cool is that?

okay skip to Quest. no lesson plan. And Motion is short quite a few small group leaders, so I head over to Motion to help out. I get second graders, and it was really fun. They learned about behaving, and the Bible verse was Ephesians 5:7-10. I think. We played charades on different things that's difficult to demonstrate Christ-like behavior, and good choices you can make during the week. We had discussion questions, and, the coolest part to me, prayer cards. Each child received a card to write specific requests and what they were going to commit to during the week according to the Bible lesson. It was really cool.  I grabbed them all up at the end of the day and put them all in my journal. They're all too sweet and each one made a really good commitment for the week. I'm proud of our church's next generations of Christ Seekers.

Then, later that night we had a night of worship. We sang lots of songs, and Pastor Furtick shared some really big news with us. We are getting our first permanent facility!!!!!!!!! It's in the Ashley Furniture strip mall on 74 right off of 485. HOW EXCITING RIGHT?! He said it should be ready next fall. 900 seats. NINE HUNDRED SEATS and the church offices.  WOO! And Of course, we showed our pastor a little love.
October is Pastor appreciation month, so a ton of volunteers and attendees wrote letters of cards of gratitude for all Pastor does for our church. He almost cried when he got the bags full of letters. Larry Hubakta spoke some really heartfelt words of thankfulness and appreciation. About how Pastor has a specific vision for every one, even if they don't see it them selves. Like a kind of spooky, even if he doesn't know you kind of premonition way. Then Pastor came on to tell us how much he loves us, really truly loves each and every one of us, and how on Saturday nights when he's stuck with a not-so-great sermon he'll think of us, and specific faces he doesn't even know, and how we respond to him while he preaches. He told us as much as he encourages us, we encourage him with all our support and appreciation.

Then I hit up IHOP with the BaxterBynumSmith clan. Fun stuff. I'm still super excited about the new PERMANENT phase of the life of our church. I'm stoked about the fact that the Butler campus the campus they're predicting this facility will absorb. I'm excited that I get to be a part of one of the most (if not the most) important movements of God in this day and age. This life just keeps getting more and more exciting. I can't wait to see what happens next!

Last Sunday I was able to go out with my homegurls. We were celebrating the release of INDUSTRY CRUSHER MAGAZINE (cop YOURS!)  Well, the venue we visited has an open mic. I used to frequent the open mic at ELEVATION SUNDAY on a weekly basis. It gave me reason to write poetry...because I KNEW I'd have a venue to share it. Needless to say, its been a long while since I got on anyone's open mic.

At the heeding of a close gurl friend of mine...I agreed to say something last Sunday. Mind you, I had NOTHING prepared as I had no intention of performing. Long story short? I got on the mic and basically said what ever came to mind. I DID attempt to be coherent, relevant, and organized. But as for subject matter? Format? NONE! I don't know if I'm a funny looking person, or if the things I say are just that hilarious...but the crowd responded VERY WELL! I think I had good timing, spoke on things folks could relate to...and was very comfortable.

Which brings me to the POINT of this entire blog. I MISS PERFORMING! I miss getting up in front of people. I always feel so shallow for even wanting to do it, but, truth is...and last Sunday REconfirmed it: I'm GOOD AT IT! Something inside me turns on...

I KNOW its what I'm supposed to do. Perform...in some capacity. Hell, its a part of the reason I became a flight attendant. Flying, unfortunately, is NOT the same. So now, I guess I have to FIGHT this feeling of being vain, or self-concious...Fight the psuedo-humility and JUST DO IT! Right?

In college, I hosted shows, acted in plays, wrote and performed monologues and poetry, spoke at programs and rallies. And once I DIDN'T finish shool...I guess I didn't feel worthy of pursuing that goal. Hell, Last winter, when I released my collection of poetry...there were performances and speaking engagements. But somewhere along the way I convinced myself that it was WRONG for me to enojoy the attention, the accolades, the audiences. But Hell....being on stage is the only time I have felt completely in my element. Completely comfortable. I'm not a politician. Not an actress. Not a leader. I'm not even JUST a writer. I am a performer...ANd it's what I need to do.

Its what I'm GOING TO DO.

Bear with me Cool World...I have a feeling that this is the begining of something very interesting...

And, lest you all think I am a Katie-hater from my previous post, actually I used to like Katie Holmes, a lot. I used to watch Dawson's Creek when I was much younger. Maybe it was her hair that I liked, I have no idea. I just know things got a bit weird when she met Tom Cruise (understatement of the year, I know).  Anyway, she's one of those people who needs to stick with the long hair, much, much better, than the "boy cut" as my husband refers to it now.

On to running things - I officially registered for the Tufts 10K this weekend - should be a good race again. For the 15th of 16 years, it is the national championship race for that distance on roads - I'm hoping Deena Kastor and Katie McGregor, to name a few, decide to run it again.

I ran tonight for only about 3 miles, possibly less, around Horn Pond (hope that link works, it's my album from Bubbleshare), luckily before it got dark.  That's about all I could run before sunset hit. By the way, I did try to take photos of some of the trees tonight but there's still a bit more time needed before the leaves there really turn. I haven't forgotten my promise to post pics of New England in all its fall color glory - maybe in Maine this weekend, there'll be an opportunity.

Oh, and I've decided something about the TNT shirt, which I wore tonight to get used to.   I feel like the Purple People Eater in it, but that's not it. I'm going to have to wear it without another shirt underneath it - between the Camelbak and my body temp being what it is on a normal run, I'm going to totally overheat if I have another shirt on underneath it. Add to it that my best running shirt for long runs is orange, and  you get the picture.  So, sleeveless it is on Sunday. God, I hope it's not too cold at the start!

Thank you to everyone for the encouragement on my last post about my goals. Above all else, I do want to finish feeling good, I just think having some time goals will also help me out.  In case you are curious, here is the map for the race (some parts are right along the ocean and a nice cove of water), and the elevation profile from USATF.

In case that elevation profile link doesn't work, it says this below the graph:

Total climb: 1002 feet / 305 m, Total elevation change: 2010 feet / 613 m. 

Compare that to the Boston Marathon elevation info: 

Total climb: 940 feet / 286 m
Total elevation change: 2319 feet / 707 m

OH BOY. Ok, I need to stop looking at that.

 Oh by the way, here's some new music I am also adding to the Music Page.

Pussycat Dolls, When I Grow Up (does anyone have any idea if they are saying "I want to have boobies" or "groupies?")

Cathy Dennis, Touch Me (blast from the past, yes, may have even been played on the orignal 90210)

I only knew three of the baptizees, but those three impacted all the Quest-ers the way a million would. And I am NOT taking any of this credit. All the glory of dozens of kids getting baptized today goes to God. He placed them in our care, and He in entrusted us with His message. He appointed us. He gifted us with the ability to lead 2nd through 5th graders in worship and and the ability to captivate them while acting on stage with a Christ Soaked Message. Not an easy task. And that's all Him. He gave the small group leaders in both Motion and Quest the patience to answer lots and lots and lots and lots questions and repeat things 10 or 20 times to ensure the message sank in. And most of all, He gave us a passion to minister to youngsters. The future of the Christian congregation. The children who placed their faith publicly today may very well be the next Chris Brown, Wade Joye or Mack Brock. Rocking out on Stage for the Glory of God. They may be the next Larry Brey, John Bishop or Larry Hubatka. They might even be the next Steven Furtick. Or...prepare for some serious boldness...the next Billy Graham. I know, I know. Getting ahead of myself. But seriously. These kids are the future. And I am thankful everyday that I get to lead them and have an active role in their faith. I'm thankful I get to make the Bible fun for them. That I get to make learning about Jesus exciting. That I get to expose them to the love of Jesus early on so that when the time comes for them to let Him into their hearts it's with full faith and understanding of His power.

Even with the...trouble, let's go with trouble, that the grill gave us while attempting to feed all the families of the baptizees and volunteers, today was awesome. All the sweat and ever slow cooking hamburgers is worth it. Really, any amount of work is worth seeing some one make the most important decision of their life. And for them self. All on their own. Not just because mommy and daddy said it was time. But because they understood what it meant and already have Jesus as their personal savior and are ready to take the next step. I think that's what makes it the most amazing. It was the personal decision and understanding of all these children to take their faith publicly. Ekidz kids are the best in the world. In my opinion anyways. And maybe I'm a little biased. But only a little.

Berkeley, Calif.

■ Kudos for publishing Salman Rushdie’s
reflections on U2. In doing so, you have tapped
into that most vital market segment: the 20-
somethings of America. Within moments of
reading the piece, this 25-year-old jumped on
his DSL line and alerted a fellow 20-something
U2 fan (and Nation reader) in Los Angeles. I
expect the e-mail chain to continue.

While I applaud this careful surfing of pop
culture, a warning: If you publish a Christopher
Hitchens thought piece on the Back Street Boys
or Britney Spears, I will cancel my subscription.

How quickly Internet language dates itself.  "...jumped on his DSL line?"  "E-mail chain?"  "E-mail?" Who hyphenates email?

Perhaps, though, the original essay would be of greater interest.  Here it is -- Salman Rushdie's musings on Bono and U2:

The Nation

July 9th, 2001

The Ground Beneath My Feet

SALMAN RUSHDIE

In the summer of 1986 I was traveling in
Nicaragua, working on the book of reportage that
was published six months later as The Jaguar Smile.
It was the seventh anniversary of the Sandinista
revolution, and the war against the US backed
contra forces was intensifying almost daily. I
was accompanied by my interpreter, Margarita, an
improbably glamorous and high-spirited blonde with
more than a passing resemblance to Jayne Mansfield.
Our days were filled with evidence of hardship
and struggle: the scarcity of produce in the
markets of Managua, the bomb crater on a country
road where a school bus had been blown up by a
contra mine.  One morning, however, Margarita
seemed unusually excited.

“Bono’s coming!” she cried, bright-eyed as any
fan, and then added, without any change in vocal
inflection or dulling of ocular glitter, “Tell me:
Who is Bono?” In a way, the question was as vivid a
demonstration of her country’s beleaguered
isolation as anything I heard or saw in the
frontline villages, the destitute Atlantic
Coast bayous or the quake-ravaged city
streets. In July 1986, the release of U2’s
monster album The Joshua Tree was still
eight months away, but they were already,
after all, the masters of War. Who was
Bono? He was the fellow who sang, “I
can’t believe the news today, I can’t close
my eyes and make it go away.” And Nicaragua
was one of the places where the
news had become unbelievable, and you
couldn’t shut your eyes to it, and so of
course he was there.

I didn’t meet Bono in Nicaragua, but
he did read The Jaguar Smile. Five years
later, when I was involved in some difficulties
of my own, my friend the composer
Michael Berkeley asked if I wanted to go
to a U2 Achtung Baby gig, with its hanging
psychedelic Trabants. In those days it
was hard for me to go most places, but I
said yes and was touched by the enthusiasm
with which the request was greeted by
U2’s people. And so there I was at Earl’s
Court, standing in the shadows, listening.
Backstage, after the show, I was shown
into a mobile home full of sandwiches and
children. There were no groupies at U2
gigs; just crèches. Bono came in and was
instantly festooned with daughters. My
memory of that first chat is that I wanted to
talk about music and he was keen to talk
politics—Nicaragua, an upcoming protest
against unsafe nuclear waste disposal at
Sellafield in northern England, his support
for me and my work. We didn’t spend long
together, but we both enjoyed it. Bono was
less taken with Michael Berkeley, however.
Years afterward he told me he’d felt
condescended to by the classical composer.
My own view is that there was a misunderstanding—
Michael isn’t a condescending
man, but a high culture/low culture rift had
opened, and that was that.

Two years later, when the giant Zooropa
tour arrived at Wembley Stadium,
Bono called to ask if I’d like to come
out on stage. U2 wanted to make a
gesture of solidarity, and this was the
biggest one they could think of. When I
told my then–14-year-old son about the
plan, he said, “Just don’t sing, Dad. If you
sing, I’ll have to kill myself.” There was no
question of my being allowed to sing—U2
aren’t stupid people—but I did go out there
and feel, for a moment, what it’s like to
have 80,000 fans cheering you on. The
audience at the average book reading is a
little smaller. Girls tend not to climb onto
their boyfriends’ shoulders during them,
and stage-diving is discouraged. Even at
the very best book readings, there are only
one or two supermodels dancing by the mixing
desk. Anton Corbijn took a photograph that
day for which he persuaded Bono and me to e
xchange glasses. There I am looking godlike in
Bono’s wraparound Fly shades, while he peers
benignly over my uncool literary specs. There
could be no more graphic expression of the
difference between our two worlds.

It was inevitable that both U2 and I
would be criticized in Britain in bringing
these two worlds together. They have been
accused of trying to acquire some borrowed
intellectual “cred,” and I of course
am supposedly star-struck. None of this
matters very much. I’ve been crossing
frontiers all my life—physical, social, intellectual,
artistic borderlines—and I spotted,
in Bono and Edge, whom I’ve come
to know better than the others so far, an
equal hunger for the new, for whatever
nourishes. I think, too, that the band’s involvement
in religion—as inescapable a
subject in Ireland as it is in India—gave
us, when we first met, a subject and an
enemy (fanaticism) in common.

An association with U2 is good for one’s
anecdote stock. Some of these anecdotes are
risibly apocryphal: A couple of years ago,
for example, a front-page Irish press report
confidently announced that I had been living
in “the folly”—the guest house with a
spectacular view of Killiney Bay that stands
in the garden of Bono’s Dublin home—for
four whole years! Apparently I arrived and
departed at dead of night in a helicopter that
landed on the beach below the house. Other
stories that sound apocryphal are unfortunately
true. It is true, for example, that I once
danced—or, to be precise, pogoed—with
Van Morrison in Bono’s living room. It is
also true that in the small hours of the following
morning I was treated to the rough
end of the great man’s tongue. (Van Morrison
has been known to get a little grumpy
toward the end of a long evening. It’s possible
that my pogoing wasn’t up to his exacting
standards.)

Over the years U2 and I discussed collaborating
on various projects. Bono mentioned
an idea he had for a stage musical,
but my imagination failed to spark.
There was another long Dublin night (a
bottle of Jameson’s was involved) during
which the film director Neil Jordan, Bono
and I conspired to make a film of my novel
Haroun and the Sea of Stories. To my great
regret this never came to anything either.

Then, in 1999, I published my novel
The Ground Beneath Her Feet, in which
the Orpheus myth winds through a story
set in the world of rock music. Orpheus is
the defining myth for singers and writers—
for the Greeks, he was the greatest singer
as well as the greatest poet—and it was my
Orphic tale that finally made possible the
collaboration we’d been kicking around.

It happened, like many good things,
without being planned. I sent Bono and
U2’s manager, Paul McGuinness, prepublication
copies of the novel in typescript,
hoping they would tell me if the
thing worked or not. Bono said afterward
that he had been very worried on my behalf,
believing that I had taken on an impossible
task, and that he began reading the
book in the spirit of a “policeman”—that
is, to save me from my mistakes. Fortunately,
the novel passed the test. Deep inside
it is the lyric of what Bono called the
novel’s “title track,” a sad elegy written by
the novel’s main male character about the
woman he loved, who has been swallowed
up in an earthquake: a contemporary Orpheus’
lament for his lost Eurydice.

Bono called me. “I’ve written this melody
for your words, and I think it might
be one of the best things I’ve done.” I was
astonished. One of the novel’s principal
images is that of the permeable frontier
between the world of the imagination and
the one we inhabit, and here was an imaginary
song crossing that frontier. I went
to McGuinness’s place near Dublin to
hear it. Bono took me away from everyone
else and played the demo CD to me
in his car. Only when he was sure that I
liked it—and I liked it right away—did
we go back indoors and play it for the assembled
company.

There wasn’t much after that that one
would properly call “collaboration.” There
was a long afternoon when Daniel Lanois,
who was producing the song, brought his
guitar and sat down with me to work out the
lyrical structure. And there was the Day of
the Lost Words, when I was called urgently
by a woman from Principle Management,
which looks after U2. “They’re in the
studio and they can’t find the lyrics. Could
you fax them over?” Otherwise, silence,
until the song was ready.

I wasn’t expecting it to happen, but I’m
proud of it. It’s called “The Ground Beneath
Her Feet.” For U2, too, it was a departure.
They haven’t often used anyone’s
lyrics but their own, and they don’t usually
start with the lyrics; typically, the words
come at the very end. But somehow it all
worked out. I suggested facetiously that
they might consider renaming the band
U2+1, or, even better, Me2, but I think
they’d heard all those gags before.

There was a long al fresco lunch in
Killiney at which the film director Wim
Wenders startlingly announced that artists
must no longer use irony. Plain speaking,
he argued, was necessary now: Communication
should be direct, and anything
that might create confusion should be
eschewed. Irony, in the rock world, has
acquired a special meaning. The multimedia
self-consciousness of U2’s Achtung
Baby-Zooropa phase, which simultaneously
embraced and debunked the mythology
and gobbledygook of rock stardom,
capitalism and power, and of which Bono’s
white-faced, gold-lamé-suited, red-velvethorned
MacPhisto incarnation was the
emblem, is what Wenders was criticizing.
Characteristically, U2 responded by taking
this approach even further, pushing
it further than it would bear, in the lesswell-
received POP-Mart tour. After that,
it seems, they took Wenders’s advice. The
new album, and the Elevation tour, is the
spare, impressive result.

There was a lot riding on this album,
this tour. If things hadn’t gone well it
might have been the end of U2. They certainly
discussed that possibility, and the
album was much delayed as they agonized
over it. Extracurricular activities, mainly
Bono’s, also slowed them down, but since
these included getting David Trimble and
John Hume to shake hands on a public
stage and reducing Jesse Helms—Jesse
Helms!—to tears, winning his support
for the campaign against Third World
debt, it’s hard to argue that these were
self-indulgent irrelevances. At any event,
All That You Can’t Leave Behind turned
out to be a strong album, a renewal of
creative force and, as Bono put it, there’s
a lot of good will flowing toward the band
right now.

I’ve seen them three times this year: in
the “secret” pre-tour gig in London’s little
Astoria Theatre and then twice in America,
in San Diego and Anaheim. They’ve come
down out of the giant stadiums to play
arena-sized venues that seem tiny after the
gigantism of their recent past. The act has
been stripped bare; essentially, it’s just the
four of them out there, playing their instruments
and singing their songs. For a
person of my age, who remembers when
rock music was always like this, the show
feels simultaneously nostalgic and innovative.
In the age of choreographed, instrumentless
little-boy and little-girl bands (yes,
I know the Supremes didn’t play guitars,
but they were the Supremes!) it’s exhilarating
to watch a great, grown-up quartet
do the fine, simple things so well. Direct
communication, as Wim Wenders said.
It works.

And they’re playing my song.

Elevation Burger offers two kinds of delicious veggie burgers to chose from...so even if you're not a meat lover, you won't go home hungry or disappointed!  For directions click here...

"A new burger joint is coming to Baltimore—Elevation Burger (655 Aliceanna St., Harbor East, near the Marriott Courtyard, elevationburger.com). But this won’t be your typical fast-food hamburger. Elevation Burger is all about healthy ingredients. It cooks its french fries, made fresh, in olive oil, offers two kinds of veggie burgers, and uses only 100 percent organic, grass-fed, free-range meat."

It was my very first time going to the Macaroni Grill, and let me just say it was AWESOME.  The food was incredible.  I just wanna thank Wes Watson and Larry Hubatka for treating all of us, and for just a fun night together with friends and Elevators. I had a blast.

"We were far from you, and nothing in this world could fill us up...but you."

Wow. Nothing. not most things, or 90 percent of the things. No things. How often do i try anyway? School, relationships, sports, grades, pride, self-accomplishment, you name it. we try. we try to fill ourselves up with all these things and it craps out. because it is true. Nothing in this world could fill us up. I believe i will never truly be fulfilled in life unless God is not only a part, but the central part of it. Only he fills up to the top. You won't leave where ever you are the same if you let God do  this. He promises. Cool song, cool lyrics, called "we were far from you." Amen.

And of course there's an occasional Sunday that gives back to me. This blog was inspired by a little girl named Caitlyn, I believe she's 4 years old. Today in Large Group we learned that Jesus loves every one, and in the very beginning after we went over the "special words" she turned around and said "Jesus loves me, then why won't He gives me wings so I can fly?" My fast and quiet response was "He does love you, and he will give you wings, just not the kind that butterflies have. One day you'll see, and you'll fly in your own special way." She seemed very satisfied with my answer, she turned back to the front and began to play along with the Bible lesson again.

I wanted SO badly to pull her aside and give a much longer version, but of course, she's four, and wants to play in large group. And of course, the message might have been lost on her until she's about 10, but there's always a shot that she'd grasp the idea. Because really, isn't that His job? To give us wings? Isn't that what He wants? For us to be so connected to Him that He has the ability to give us wings so we can "fly" in His name? He wants us all to be lifted up, He wants all of us to be able to accomplish the unaccomplish-able. His hearts desire is to see us soar with success and happiness. He wants all of us to accept Him as our personal savior so that one day, when we've accomplished every thing in this life He had planned for us, He can give us real wings so that we may actually fly with Him for all eternity. As His children...all He really wants is to have us with Him for ever in Heaven. She really got me thinking about how truly amazing God is. How His one desire is for us to accept Him and live by His name so that he may bless our lives and give glory to His name. How awesome, right?

All this from a little girl asking why God wouldn't give her wings...I swear these things happen every Sunday. Either they'll say something that my head works into a crazy metaphor for God's plan for our lives or they'll say something so simple and true and pure about the love Jesus has for them that I feel the need to write furiously about it in my off-line journal. These kids have so much to learn, and yet so much to teach. They teach me the little things, while I try my best to fill them in on the big picture.

It's amazing what can happen when you actually listen to them and take the time to formulate a response instead of shushing them and making the turn back around with no explanation to their question. I just pray that one day her mom or dad will teach her about the wings Jesus wants to give her and her ability to truly fly with the help of Christ her Savior.

Wheew...take a second to let that sink in...

On a completely different note: I have a prayer request for a friend of mine. Her name is Dannie, I've mentioned her before on here. She has grown to be one of my closest and best friends, and she has a very tough decision to make right now. She volunteers with me in Quest, and she also is very passionate about singing. She attends the weekly youth sermons at Next Level. A few weeks ago some one from Next Level approached her to offer her a chance to lead worship for the middle school age at their church. I told her not to think twice and to take it. Singing was her passion and she should follow her heart on that. Well, for a few weeks now, our elementary/middle school section Motion has been trying to get in touch with her to offer her a position to lead worship in there. She loves Elevation, calls it home, and would've taken the opportunity in a heart beat, but she already promised Next Level she would lead there. She's very torn because she doesn't know where her gifts would be better utilized, where she'd reach more people with her gift, and at which church she has more opportunity to get on the main stage for worship as part of the praise band. I've told her to pray really hard about it and that God would lay on her heart where she is supposed to serve, and not to worry about what people would say if she took one position or the other. I've been praying for her since she told me about her opportunity that Elevation would offer her a place to lead worship, and now that they have I pray that it is in line with what God places on her heart. Selfish, I know. But I would miss her too much if she stopped coming to Butler every Sunday. However....Pray that God makes the decision clear to her, no matter what the decision may be. She really doesn't want to let any body down, and I hate for her to feel guilt when following what Christ has planned for her. So, all you regular readers, please pray for my friend Dannie. I'm sure she would appreciate any help and support through prayer!

Okay...I think I am all finished for the night. Two things in one. Hope you feel extra full of thought, and not gypped that I crammed all this stuff into one entry. Be back soon!

Just to let you know, I'm not a fainter, or an extremely rambunctious worshipper. At most I'm a clapper, and a hand raiser. But about a month ago I took part in an illustration involving large pieces of cardboard and a testimony of my transformation along with about 20 other Elevators. It was such a moving and emotional experience, and during the illustration Chris Brown and the worship team played "How He Loves." And the part when the whole band picks up and kicks in we all held our sings up high and the emotion in the room peaked and every one stood up and clapped. The emotion was too much to keep in, and it's an experience I'll have with me forever.

But I never thought that the emotion would ever resurface to the extent that it did on Sunday. The song itself is so powerful, it could move people to tears. Chris Brown is an amazing worship leader and has such a passion and the stuff he says, preaches really, in between songs could move people to tears. But not me. No. Not me. However, the combination of the power of the song, Chris Brown's passionate words of praise, and the emotion of the illustration did.

I felt it when the song started. And I held it together. Raised my hands to the Lord and thanked Him for how much he loved me, even for how much I've been a screw up, and for placing me in such an amazing place that I could experience His love for me. Then, the  band picked up and Chris Brown sang the end chorus at the top of his lungs. The emotion of that day, and the re-realization of how amazing my God is flooded over me. And I lost it. My fingers couldn't reach high enough, and I felt my eyes well up and tears roll down my cheek.

I had never felt so much emotion during worship before. It was amazing. I felt what I felt, and I just let it happen. I'm not saying I'm gonna cry every Sunday at worship, my mascara doesn't handle tears well. But I'm glad I did last Sunday. God moved in me, He reawakened the passion I had that Sunday. The fire has been re-sparked. Nothing Can stop me now.

Check out the article here.

Oh, and I'm writing this post from my new IPhone. Just thought I'd brag a bit.