I had a moment at 15,000 feet.
Away I flew, from Chicago to Orlando, the final leg of a day-long journey for a weekend of fun. I’d hopped from plane to plane that day, smiling wryly and with muted thoughts as I restricted myself to the small portions of allotted personal space I was allowed.
I sat among formal strangers that I’d not spoken to, nor much cared to. I gazed out the scratched, double-paned glass, hoping to spot a landmark of remembrance or familiarity. Instead, I was met with the quaintness of cordoned off little squares of peaceful land, quiet and stoic—seeming to be waiting for something, anything.
I read through the Vonnegut novel in my lap, digesting the beautiful beat his words carry, marveling at the prowess an old German man could possess of the English language. Tunes of shuffling songs whispered to me as I did my best to drown the drone of engines in my ears. It was all so dignified and strange.
And then I was wrecked.
Seated there between a middle-aged shrew and a snoring salesman, grace flooded my conscious and broke me down to something beautifully barren.
Quietly, these words* drifted into my ears:
I can’t sing loud enough
When I’m singing for You my God
With a thunder roll and a brilliant light
Your glory boasts and the heavens shine
The saints and angels stand in awe
Captured by the beauty of it all
So I fall to my knees
But I can’t bow low enough
At the vision of You my God
There, in a floating bus, fifteen thousand feet above my blessed country, nestled in cramped quarters and desperate for the journey’s end, I closed my eyes and quietly wept.
I wept for the goodness of my God. For the grace and mercy He chose to afford to me and to you. I wept for chances I’ve wasted, and for the ones I’ve yet to take.
I wept because I’m a sinner, and I wept because of my salvation.
I wept for His blessings, and I wept for His favor.
I wept in reverence.
I wept in thanks.
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*These are lyrics from Phil Wickham’s Cielo. I highly recommend it.