I am made to move with my whole being—body, soul, and spirit—in relationship with the Trinity.

During the first 3 months of Phase II of the 18 Inch Journey, I am in the Movement Collective. In it, we are getting our bodies really strong through yoga, so that we can know ourselves well physically. It is teaching me how to listen to the Father’s voice and letting myself respond to it with my body through dance.

I am also learning to get really still to receive a deeper understanding of what being Fathered by God looks like as a confident son within His Family.

Here are some of my conversations with God in relation to these things!

Movement is my whole being choosing vulnerability, to let myself be affected. It is a relationship of releasing and receiving. It is freeing but defined, expressing my imagination and the heart of God physically.

Papa, why is movement important to you?

It’s important to Me because I am not static. I always express myself. In movement there is deep breathing, clarity and energy for every muscle, every place in you to feel and see. Movement is confidence and strength in structure, but it isn’t comfort; it’s courage. Self-awareness not self-obsession: the more you know yourself, the more you can move yourself in the fullness that I designed you.

Swirly thoughts out of the random blue—a white mansion where I sold leather goods with that out of place feeling, Wren Park’s water fountains, blue and red fish stuck in a drain, gasping for air, a field in front of jagged mountains.

Keep pressing in with open hands and a yes on your lips.

Everything slows down, colors fade into a white light. You put your forehead against mine; I feel it—feathery peace. You have come and live right here inside of me.

Asking, seeking, knocking looks like lying on the floor and looking up to the space above the trees.

 Spread your arms—you are a house full of windows and open doors. Creep into smiling lakes, bigger, deeper, fuller. Every muscle working in confidence to give away every drop of joy. I wrap you in a chrysalis of love, a nest of rest—marigolds crown your forehead. Over and over again, put your chest to the ground and feel My heartbeat, your fingers sink in the dirt—all My thoughts. Over and over again.

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. All day and night they speak and reveal knowledge of Him. Psalm 19:1-2

What perspective of the gospel are you proclaiming, skies and heavens? What secrets do you hold for those who seek and ask? You have no voice, but if I get still enough, I can get a taste. The change and shift of light proves He is always steady—confidently unchanging. The sun and stars seem to come and go, but it’s I who change and turn—for He turns me around, so that I can get new perspectives of His beauty and character. When He feels silent—what has He said? Maybe shadows are signals to reposition ourselves on my knees, to reach out, to sit silent-still, and let go of what I know and receive something fresh.

He is very clear about His intentions, directions, intimate connection with me, and He paints it in the skies.

On the banks of delight, I let the breeze do the talking—trees giggle their secrets.

Shhh, only those who sway affected like us can know.

My face creases into rippling smiles, like angels gliding on the water. Who is this Dreamer that shapes the depths with light? All around, hundreds of thousands of paper neighborhoods collects the sun’s stories, painting them green in their celled-apartments. Can I get still enough to let the ancient paths speak of a glory and magic that preceded man?

Still enough to watch a pair of turtles come up for air and swim to meet each other, then disappear in the glinting scatter of the lake’s surface. Still enough to climb high with a hawk, gliding up and up in circles until a cloud wraps the winged silhouette in its veil. Still enough to witness the power of the billowing ghost ships overhead fill and drain the forest of yellow warmth, while serenity continues to lean back against the wooden elders. Stillness is sight. This space is the heart of my Father, and I am worth His full attention.

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