Equality

Biker chick stands beside kindly old grandma, stands beside tall lanky possibly basketball player stands beside petite college student. Lawyer beside doctor beside patient beside dock worker. Rough bouncer together with redneck, black, brown, tanned, fair. Conflicting stereotypes glaring along the row. Long haired standing beside tattooed and pierced standing beside Mr. Studious Spectacles. Racial polarities lose their magnetism as Indians stand with Malays with Chinese nearby and countries lose their borders with British standing by Africans holding hands with Jews and Russians.

In a time of worship, everyone's no different. When the focus is off us and onto someone far greater, we take our hands out of our pockets, stop brushing our hair and checking our reflection in the mirror, or worrying about how our breath smells like, because its no longer about who we are. No longer about what we've done, or what we could have done. What can anyone possibly do that can matter, when you're approaching your Maker?

Hands stretch forth, heads are bowed. Everyone's confronting Him in their own way. Worry, guilt, contentment, uncontained joy, quiet happiness, fear, apprehension all chasing each other. At some point though, when our faces have relaxed, our hands no longer clenched and our feet no longer tense in our shoes, we know we're there. At peace with Him, relaxing in His presence. We've accepted His presence and all it entails. It's then that the real worship starts; from this point on, He is truly the centre of our current existence.

Different people, from different lives and speaking different languages, all declaring

"Jesus I believe in You. Jesus I belong to You."