She sat across from me with her hands wrapped around a coffee cup she wasn't really drinking.She had been in church her whole life. Raised in it. Stayed in it through the years most people drift. Led worship teams, showed up early to set up, stayed late to tear down....
He caught me after the service on a Sunday that had gone pretty well — good crowd, good energy, the room had been responsive.He leaned against the wall and said, almost under his breath: "I don't know what's wrong with me. Everyone around me was clearly getting something out of...
Someone asked me once, after a Sunday service: "Was that worship?"She wasn't confused about the sermon. She wasn't questioning the pastor. What she was trying to name was something simpler — and harder to put into words. The singing had felt like worship to her. Eyes closed, heart open, something...