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The Wind, the Waves, and the Mountain (Part I: Made)

The day the wind, the waves, and the mountain gathered to remember all that has been, consider all that is, and hope for all that will be.

He who forms the mountains, who creates the wind, and who reveals his thoughts to mankind, who turns dawn to darkness, and treads on the heights of the earth — the LORD God Almighty is his name. AMOS 4:13


It wasn’t long ago.

Listen, little ones, and know the deep mysteries of our past.

There was a moment of silence. A breath for reflection.


At first, there was nothing. There was only choas. We were void of any purpose or direction.

Suddenly, we saw his Spirit hovering over us, waiting at first. We felt his peace and his presence. We looked up in anticipation, longing for something yet to come.

Then he spoke and put space between us and the void — we breathed our first breath, gasping for air.

He spoke again and the entire creative order trembled. From underneath emerged great boulders and mountains of great renown. Earth upon earth.

We were pushed outward and forced into filling the space he created above us. We thought we would fill it to the brim and spill into the black. But we were kept; held in by the rocks. We reeled against them at first. We were at war with the mountains — some of the greatest waves eternity has ever know were raised in those moments.


Who is like the creator God that first brought us from his storehouses and sent us in such power and might in those first days? Have we not since moved continually?

We were not silent, nor calm, nor forgiving. With everything, we shouted loudly the power of God. We blew like trumpets in victory. We raced throughout the Earth and watched creation bloom beneath us.

By his power we still move, around and around the earth. At his exhale we charge like an army too numerous to count.


From the deep the creator pulled us out toward the heavens. This planet shook as he forced us into the skies with his outstretched arm. The sounds of our shifting cracked into the farthest regions of space, crushing the ears of the wind.

When the last of us had reached our peak we looked out into the expanse of the Earth; all was quiet.

Then came the sound of his voice singing over us and proclaiming that we were good. We all knew that it wasn’t our height, or our strength, or our splendor that made us good. We were good because his song said we were good.

Day after day we remain as we were — Shaped by the LORD and molded by the rolling palm of his hand. The song is still in our hearts.


Who can count the animals which swarm beneath my surface? From the greatest of them to the smallest, each are in his control. What man can see my face from end to end? The Lord knows every drop of me and choreographs my days.

You rule the swelling of the sea; When its waves rise, You still them. — Psalms 89:9


From the beginning, he has chosen us as a chariot for his Spirit. We run to and fro surprising and delighting the inhabitabts of the Earth. And if they were to settle and stop and listen, they might hear the gentle whisper of his Voice.

He called us to a people and we filled the very lungs of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

And he calls still today to those whom he choses, and The Spirit blows life into the souls of men.

A small wave rose timidly, asking the gathering a question:

If we were made with such power and purpose, then why do I long for something more? Why are we not as we were created to be?

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