When we first met, it wasn't yet time. God had work to do, and we waited wondering, sensing His hand, learning to rest, finding each one another.
Then Sunday morning sunlight came through coffee-shop windows to light quiet praise and just a few that were left - and us with our oddly quiet child. And God was simply there, comforting, smiling out at us through encouraged eyes and genuine greetings.
"You've moved a bit," I commented, and the pastor shared new, humble wisdom from sad wise eyes that were young only months ago. "We wanted to follow the leading of the Holy Spirit," he said, and my heart leaped and my eyes filled and I knew I could sing here, we could serve here. His Spirit was here.
He works in higher, hopeful ways; His timing is sure and perfect. His gifts to us may be for this time, for these people in His Body, whose home is His heart, whose wounded hearts seek to walk with Him by faith as they watch dear friends walk away.
So we tremble forward across our own fears and wounds and misgivings, and we know He is near with courage for us. This courage may be morning light filtering through coffee shop windows into the soft dark night of our healing, of their healing, and joy comes soft and real.
I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you to walk worthy of the calling with which you were called, with all lowliness and gentleness, with longsuffering, bearing with one another in love, endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all. (Eph. 4:1-6)