Fire. Sparks rising into the moonlit sky. Laying in the green grass, evangelizing to the drunkard next to me, observing the flashlight-flooded drama before me; a beautiful expression of Jesus’ love and our struggle. Countless things all seemed to begin to come together up there; I cannot really explain it.

The journey began as I lugged my pack up the rocky slope, flicking sweat off my brow in the relentless heat. A formidable group, beloved companions all of them: the El Camino drama team, the New York team, TEARS Staff and translators. We marched along like a ragged army- some pushing ahead, others lagging behind. I felt uplifted to listen to the testimony of my new friend John, bearing witness to the common thread of rebellion and repentance that ties us all together- like a diverse yet inextricably related family.

The sense of community, the essence of the gospel as it exploded to life in the darkness, the prayer; as I later reflected on it all I felt overwhelmingly like a longing inside had been fulfilled. I was like a parched man drinking deep from a desert well- but somehow I knew this was not an oasis.

This deep intimate relationship with God and with other believers had been flickering in and out of existence lately, yet as wood was thrown into the fire, so God also fueled my own heart and heated the furnace within; he had been waiting to show me something for a long time. As I felt the reassuring touch of hands on my back and shoulders, powerfully uttered prayers and subtle whispers- uttered in tongues of unspeakable passion- the Spirit seemed to act as a spotlight, throwing the love of Christ into brilliant clarity. The sense of newness, healing and encouragement is more than I can describe.

The following morning I prayed in the cool of the dawn, watching the splendor of the sun crowning the valley below, slowly creeping over the horizon and- almost imperceptibly- giving warmth to my chilled hands. I opened the Scripture to Isaiah 26 and asked the Lord to speak to me. I would say that this verse, perhaps better than anything else (certainly better than my words), does justice to the experience:

“You who dwell in the dust,
wake up and shout for joy.
Your dew is like the dew of the morning…”

God’s glory. The world is drenched with it- real, true, full, now, resplendent. I must give thanks, for he has given me a beautiful existence- breathtakingly beautiful. Yahweh is the Wise Master who orchestrates everything; the beauty of nature and culture and our very minds are like tributaries, running down from his river of imaginative and cognitive power. My final request that morning was simple and sincere: What do I have if I don’t have you? Help me to see past the illusions of money and success. May the material become for me immaterial, and may you be my Everything.