When orphans worship, their voices are loud, their eyes are closed tightly, and their little hands are gripped together. Your jaw will drop as you watch them physically enter into the presence of a king.
When orphans worship, their voices ache to express their hearts. Their songs are ones of desperation and admiration to a creator who they know holds them in his palm.
When orphans worship, your eyes fill with tears as you feel God all around you. Physically, you are overcome and spiritually you are one with your Lord.
When orphans worship, their last care in the world is what you, I, or their friend thinks of them. They sing loud, undignified, and with passion.
When orphans worship, you begin to wonder if this is what it is supposed to be like for us. You begin to wonder why God's presence is so strong there, but we struggle to enter into any meaningful worship in our clean, well lit, and finely carpeted buildings.
When orphans worship, you are easily convinced that there is nothing else on their minds. Their deep expressions can tell you a thousand stories about the throne room.
When orphans worship, their instruments are their voices and the clap of their hands, but you'd probably swear you also could hear percussion, guitars, and booming pianos.
When orphans worship, they appear as though they have learned something we haven't. While you and I find it so hard to believe that we have a God who loves and desires us, they take no interest in such foolishness.
Copied from Wrecked for the Ordinary.
