Corner seat, up front.
Probably the best seat in the house,
except for, of course, where the big guy's at.
Omnipresence sort of removes the need
for front row seats.
The power of the organ shakes straight up
from my heels to head.
I'm dressed in Sunday best.
Right there, right next to the sound,
I'm tucked behind the beast
that's roaring and drawing everyone along
in often old and faithful songs.
Lyrics of prayer wafting up to the vaulted ceilings.
I feel God everywhere
but how can I not tremble while asking,
"Lord, have mercy upon us."
Holding the hurt and misery out in front of me,
lifting the worst kind of sacrifice to the altar.
How can I express what it feels like
to be the one who gets to turn around
and tell you, "Your sins are forgiven."
Like a rushing wind, a flame.
I mean every word I say.
I understand, that this is just an hour.
A civic duty, maybe.
But I want to tell you that this,
meeting with you. Falling before God.
This. This, is what my life is about.
And I could sleep in pews,
and live off of communion bread
if it meant living in the house of God.
What's incredible,
more than music, stained glass;
is that this God, Alpha, Omega
lives in the house of me.
Alleluia. Alleluia.
