Wednesday, 26 September 2018

Whoosh.

It was a sound heard across a room. A big room too. Trust me I have to get it vacuumed regularly. One muffled by a crowd of kids, standing on the pews I clean.

One made in the simple silence after a prayer. I heard it twice and was blessed by the whoosh. Of water gracing a sinner the way our savior graced our world.

It was not left by itself either as the crowd cheered and pastors declared in joy, that two people just got baptized.

A whoosh of a Jesus follower being baptized in my church. I have heard very few more beautiful sounds. Belief has a way of doing that to you.

That's why we jump into cool summer waters when one of friends is brave enough to dive in first. It's the promise of the whoosh we know all too well to be true. Too true not to dive in.

I am blessed to manage the tank we hear that whoosh from, the carpet that past and future whoosh makers walk on. The walls that get dinged by kids destined to whoosh. The doors that welcome un-whooshed people in every weekend.

Blessed to see salvation work and hear waters go whoosh.