What we believe—we become. How powerful we humans are; made in the image of God—little creators of calm and chaos, unaware of our inheritance, believing that we have God’s eyes instead of His ways. For a small god is still a god, and all gods hold the key. Hold tight to yours lest you forget your heritage, and wander aimlessly—forever afraid of being yourself—of walking alone.
You are connected to the invisible, that wide-open place of white-hot potential, where love whispers answers to your soul—if you will but hear them—great and transforming truths about your origin and destiny.
You are vast; yet you remain small, believing the gravitational pull of death and want, stale bread and dirty water—a prisoner of the grand illusion.
You tolerate your hunger, when you carry within yourself an invitation to a royal feast, prompting you to come and eat—gain strength, equipping you for the journey ahead.
I wonder at all things. All things! And sometimes I see a power within myself that takes my breath away. Circumstances teach me, challenge and wound me, yet there it is—a greatness that remains. It speaks from the smallest of places, drawing my attention from the shadows and ghosts—inspiring me to stand up in the middle of my frailties and believe the impossible.
How great thou art my friend the worm. How great thou art.
Sometimes, I experience stunning conviction, believing that my heart’s desires are my natural course—that my destination is programmed into my soul like a migratory bird—and that the important things hold a strength of their own; they can never fail me because they are laced, like shimmering threads of truth, throughout my being.
The things that I believe, I become—it seems like so much power for such a simple soul. But when I look to nature and see her generous metaphors all around me, I am thoroughly persuaded that the seeds of greatness are sown in ordinary soil.