Some moments are so precious that we can't help but hold them close, cupped in our hands like a firefly whose light gives no physical warmth and yet it changes the atmosphere almost tangibly.

I don't talk much about the prayer room or a lot of my experiences with Fire and Fragrance. It's kind of hard now, to be honest. Who would understand unless they've been there? From the fuzzy hours of nightwatch in the basement of Portugal Place to the sleepy peace of a soaking set to the freezing cold auditorium during "Thundering Thursdays." It would be like taking down a transcript of every word that a lover said to you in the confidence of intimacy, and then publishing that transcript for all the world to see.

"I've got joy written on my DNA
You make me happy..."

It was one of a million choruses. And of course, we all ended up dancing and laughing, because who wouldn't? But it is a declaration that has power not when we are content, safe, circumstantially happy, but when we are suffering.

How do you look past pain and sing those words to Him still? How do you face apathy and confusion and still declare that something more is written into who you are? How...

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