The sun rose, large with life and it's reminder of promises kept to everlasting.
It rose on our city, dark and needy.
It rose on our home, where I started an argument in the dark while pouring my coffee.
It rose and kept rising, like a life that cannot be kept buried.
A power that breaks every bond in the wake of it's glory.
A Power and a Life that because it is real and not just metaphorical, breathes real living life and power into my dead limbs and heart of stone.
It's why brothers can forgive and think more of the other than of themselves.
Why wives can humble themselves against their pride.
It's why we don't grow discouraged by our failure,
but remember that it is not our might that saves us in the first place.
It is the Son that kept rising, breaking every bond in the wake of His glory.
And our praises today were loud and crazy joyful not because we had new clothes
Or baskets filled with goodies.
But because we are free, and chosen, and redeemed, and loved.
We are purchased and restored and cherished and sent out.
We are His and He is ours and His story is our story to proclaim to all the ends of the earth
And to this patch of earth right under our feet.
Where the sun rose today and caught us in it's rays.