Sometimes I think that some of my best moments with God come when I'm not saying anything. I had that this morning as I sat on my bed in my pajamas, listening to Steven Curtis Chapman's "Be Still and Know". I sat and just thought about the immensity of God, and tried to open my heart to hearing him. I felt as if a big blanket of peace surrounded me, and I was able to simply worship him. It was magnificent.

And then I went outside into the cold, and all the golden warmth of my experience was shivered away by the wind. My fingers trembled, and as soon as I got inside again, I dreaded going out into the world again.

Isn't that the way it works though? We have an inspiring moment and we feel amazed and lit up from the inside. But then an encounter with the darkness around us, and suddenly we're afraid. Where has the shining light gone? Where is the warmth that filled us before? I don't think it's gone anywhere. I think that we need to carry it bravely and refuse to let the chilling wind extinguish it. Sometimes during the winter, I would leave a door open in the house on accident, and my mom would ask me if I was trying to heat up the whole outside. Yeah, Mom, I think I am.