Sometimes you're still like a trumpet with a mute. You hold back. Let me out. Be unashamed. Be unafraid to look silly to be judged by those that are spiritually dead, spiritually weakened. Be excited. My grace pours out continually upon you, upon your life, and yet you sit there trying to contain

it. Pray in the spirit. Pray with spirit. Joy is my spirit. Not lethargy. Not that, the spirit of the

world where everybody is trying to look cool and even and normal.

You are the most sane, but there's a joy you feel, and I'm giving you permission to not hold back,

because you're at the same time praying for me to not hold back, to surprise you, to give you that

instant miracle, that miracle a minute, feel joy every minute, sing every minute with your heart,

not just with your mouth, with your eyes, go out and look at the sky, at the grass, at the flowers

that are blooming, look at grass, at the flowers that are blooming.

Look at me.

Beyond it all, even if you're looking at an alleyway, even if you're looking at trash.

See my face, just beyond it all.

See my hand, just beyond it all.

See perfection in the midst of it and change it with that perception.

Kill it. You are the catalyst. When you walk in, it changes. When you see it, it changes. When you feel my

presence in the midst of it. When you bring me into the midst of it, it changes. When you become

aware of me in the midst of it, it changes. When you become aware of me in the midst of it, it changes.

You see that headline. In your feed, you think it has nothing to do with you. It's on the other

side of the world. It's your world. It's mine. You see it. You feel me. It changes. You change it.

And you may not see the change. But I'll make sure you hear about it. Get to work. I love you.