The Way Home

The sun was slowly climbing into the morning sky as I rounded the corner and headed toward the park. Only a few others had the same idea. Quiet morning solitude. Walking, listening, praying. A smile and a nod in passing, breathing deeply of the surrounding green, sharing this human experience.

The dew glistened on the grass, diamonds extravagantly sprinkled by a too-generous hand.

I finished my lap and headed toward home. Back to make breakfast, back to wake the little ones and back to dive into the full day that stretched before me.

The last leg took me away from the towering evergreens and plush grass toward the lifeless brick walls and cement sidewalks. Cars zipped by, frantically racing to work. The noise overpowered my quiet. I strained to listen to the music that was playing in my ears. It required a complete focus of my attention . . . .

And I will . . . worship . . . You, Lord
Only You, Lord . . .
And I will . . . bow down . . . before You
Only You, Lord . . .

It was hard to focus. But I wanted the words, the worship on that final stretch. And the only way home was straight through that offensive, fast-paced, blaring world. I quickened my pace and strained even harder.

The words brought instant peace:

And it's just You and me here now
Only You and me here now
You should see the view
When it's only You.

My heart swelled. Just my Savior and me on that busy road. That was the view I craved. And that's where He wanted me to be.

Sometimes that view is found only by trudging through the harshness of the world. I can't avoid it, try as I might. And in many cases, I shouldn't. I might miss it. I might miss a moment to hear from my Savior.

Sure, I would love to circle that diamond-sprinkled park again and again in complete peace and silence, worshiping Him in solitude, avoiding all discord and unpleasantness.

But if I did . . . I would never get home.


Only You by David Crowder Band