I used to think that falling to your knees was the most sincere form of weakness, the scariest and realest form of defeat.  Then I met Jesus there and realized that bowing is actually the bravest thing you can do. I felt like the crown of my head sprouted branches which in turn was watered to bring out the brightness of green leaves, wanting so desperately to touch the sky.  And in a space of complete collapse I felt more joy and strength than I ever have or knew was possible.

Of all the stars in the sky the one that had finally fallen to the ground, me, originally the most fizzled, now felt the brightest of all beauty. And I learned that beauty comes in all forms and all times, most often in spaces where you don’t want it to show up, the least expected and most unwelcome of places.  

Collapsing draws seeds out of shells to plant and move, to grow and blossom, to become something greater than even you yourself could have imagined. Watching something grow is one of the most uncomfortable and belittling processes for those who have no understanding of surrendering. When matched with a context of ultimate trust, it makes all the sense in the world, which is why something so small becomes so big. It makes absolutely no sense but that’s the point.  The things that are the most dim end up shining the brightest.