The Air is Thick With the Most High God

You are God Almighty,

Who fills the world with grace.

And all that we feast on,

Is grace undeserved.


You are God Almighty,

Who makes His sun to rise,

On the evil,

And on the good.


And You are God who causes rain to fall,

On the just,

And the unjust.


God who has compassion,

On all that He has made.

God who sends grace down,

Even on those,

Who hate His name.



Your greatness is unsearchable.

The depths of Your glory,

Are unfathomable.

And so our praise,

Has no end.


For if we were to praise You,

From morning to evening,

And everyday for eternity,

Our praise would still not reach far enough.


We would have only but praised the surface,

Of the God,

Who is oceans deep.


You are God who feeds us all,

From Your open hand.

And there is not one living thing on earth,

That does not get its food,

From You.


You open Your hand,

And satisfy the desires,

Of every living thing.

And everything that lives today,

Lives because You feed it,

From Your own hand.



God who owns the cattle,

On a thousand hills.

God who owns each blade of grass,

Each ray of sun,

Each atom of oxygen.


And who gives them,


To us.


Every breath we take,

Every bit of food we chew,

Is a gift,

Given from Your own hand.


And every moment we live,

We are the creatures bent low,

And taking our life,

From Your own cupped hands.



I think about that.

About how intimate,

This living thing,

Really is.


And I think about how,

You are the Giver of each breath.

And You control the tiniest details,

Of life.

And how much more,

The great ones?



God who reigns sovereign,

Over kings and rulers and princes.

God who reigns sovereign,

Over nations.

God who ordains when they rise,

And when they fall.


God who ordains the times and seasons of men,

And the places,

Of their habitations.


God who makes men,

Hearing or deaf,

Seeing or blind.


God who sculpts and plans and crafts,

According to Your sovereign will.

God who does all this,

And who can argue with You?


Who can see the depths,

Of Your wisdom?

Who can read the ripples,

Of all that You are doing?

The praises that echo,

For all eternity?


O, God who does all things flawlessly,

From beginning to end!

You do all things well,

And I am amazed at You.


God who reigns,

Over all of my life,

God who has brought times of plenty,

As well as times of adversity.


God who has brought struggles,

That have brought many violent tears.

From this place on my knees,

I confess it,

You do all things well.


All that You have done,

You have done well.

All that You have given,

Has been good.


And the fruit that has been born,

In my heart through the breaking up,

Of the fallow ground,


All the righteousness,

And deep communion with You,

That has sprung up,

In the tender place in my heart,

Broken open,

And watered with tears,


It is so beautiful,

And so holy,

And so worth,

All the trials that brought me here.



I thank You for the desperation,

That has made me desperate for You.

I thank You for the place of need,

That has made me cling to You,

Until You brought forth living water,

From this trial that I thought,

Was just a rock.


I thank You for these stones in my hand,

That were really all along,

Good bread.


Thank You for turning the trial,

Into a treasure chest.

For turning the painful,

Into fountains of praise,

Flowing with Your fellowship,

Living Water.


Thank You for the good gifts,

That come wrapped,

In the hard things.

Thank You for the hard things,

That are really,

The best kind of grace.


Thank You for the beautiful work,

That You do in a heart,

Through the trials,

We would never choose.


Thank You for the loss,

That has made me tender.

Thank You for the devastation,

That has broken me,

And brought only my pride,

To its knees.


But my spirit,

Has risen up out of the ashes,

And the death,

Was really all along,

A gift of resurrection life.


Thank You for the shattered dreams,

And the closed doors,

And the painful tears.


Thank You for the wilderness,

That has left me alone,

To find the sacred place,

With You.


Thank You for the desperation,

That gave me strength,

To climb the mountain,

That leads to Your holy place.


Thank You for taking,

Everything but Yourself,

From me.


And yet really,

Taking nothing at all,

From me.


For in the broken open loss,

Stubborn pride dies,

This thick and stubborn weed.

And with the death of pride,

So much beautiful in my life,

That has been here all along,



And in the loss,

I gain.

And in the death,

I live.


And its a paradox,

Only You could make true.

And it’s really amazing,

How when I really feel like I’m dying,

That’s the time,

When Your resurrection life,

Is really growing the most alive,

In me.



God who gives trial and adversity,

And it is a gift of the most peculiar sort.

And I don’t know it’s a gift,

Until the moment when I’m in tears on my knees,

And the words of praise come out of my mouth.


And when I find my own heart,

Uttering the deepest things,

Deepest holiness,

That could only be from You.


Those moments,

When the prayer that I’m praying,

Astounds even me.

And I know it’s only,

You alive in me.


That’s when I tremble.

That’s when I get it.

When I realize just what it is,

That You’ve been doing here all along.


And all those tears,

And all that tearing of the soul,

And all those heart-wrenching groanings,

And struggles that none,

But You could see,


All these many battles,

And all these many crying outs,

Are suddenly,

Not for naught.


But the unseen,

Speaks a tangible reality.

And the violent struggles of mind and heart and soul,

Matter more than any physical combat,

Ever could.


And in those moments,

I know.

That heaven records,

The battles waged,

In the heart of man.


And in those moments I know,

That the tiniest decisions,

That the heart makes for You,

And the tiniest struggles,

That the heart makes to cling to You,

They matter.


And holiness,

Is warfare.

And righteousness,

Is a gift of grace,

But the feasting on it,

Is a violent struggle,

Against all kinds of sin.


Yet even this struggle,

Is itself,


And these trials that You send,

To wrestle flesh,

And grow communion,

Down deep,

They are gifts of grace,

Of the highest sort.


And I think it might be true of many Americans,

And I know it’s true of me,

That my heart is so stubborn and gluttonous and thick and numb,

That I need the trials,

To shock me awake,

And to make me raw enough,

To really live.


And the trials that I don’t want,

Are the biggest blessings to me.

Because the biggest enemy to me,

Is my own stubborn selfishness.


And the trials that rock me,

And make me tender and pliable,

And that birth humility and righteousness in me,

Are the biggest gifts,

That I can’t give myself.


And no discipline,

At the moment seems pleasant,

But rather painful.

But when it is complete,

It produces the peaceful fruit,

Of righteousness,

To those who have been trained by it.


And it’s worth it.

It’s so worth it.

No matter what I may say,

While I’m yet in the throes of it.


And through this discipline,

And this deep birthing of righteousness,

I join the ranks,

Of the great cloud of witnesses,

That have gone before.


And I walk the path of grace,

Where they themselves have walked.

These of whom the world was not worthy,

I follow in their footsteps,

In even this,

The very smallest,

Of ways.


Yet there’s a kinship,

And a fellowship,

In the walking here.


And I understand,

And taste,

Just a little bit,

Of what it is,

They saw and felt and meant.


And in the deep place,

Past the struggle,

And the breaking,

And the watering of tears,


In that place of righteousness,

This tender green growth,

Where the soul has been broken open,

There is fellowship,

With the Most High God.

Through the fellowship of the Son of God,

Who lives here.


And in the depths of the righteous place,

There is the fellowship,

Of the Living Son of God.

And it is the tenderest,

And most beautiful thing,

I have ever known.


And I am ruined,

For all lesser things,

Because I have known You,

Son of God.


There is no satisfaction,

A husband could ever give me,

That even comes close,

To the satisfaction,

Of knowing You.


You fill my soul,

And flood my senses,

And my whole being,

From soul out to fingertips,

Knows what it is,

To be fully alive.


You are the satisfaction,

Of all my dreams.

You are the highest thing,

My mind can ever know.

And when I am in the place of fellowshiping with You,

I have reached the peak,

Of what it is,

To exist.


And my life now,

Is just a constant chasing after,

This that I have tasted and seen.


It is a constant venture,

To follow.

To fellowship.

To stay in the place,

Of knowing You.


I have found,

All that I am looking for in this life.

I can say that truly.


I have found,

Everything that I ever wanted to find.

And now I only live,

To taste and know,

You more.


I wrestle,

To stay in the place,

Of resting in You,

And not wanting,

Any lesser thing.


Because my soul only knows perfect peace,

When all of my heart’s mind and faculties,

Are bent on feasting on You.


And the greatest rest,

Is the fellowship with You.

And I will follow You anywhere,

And obey anything,

Just to stay in that place,

Of knowing You.

And this,

By Your grace,



And that’s really,

The only way obedience,

Really works anyway.

And that’s really,

The way You intended it to be,

All along.


Obedience becomes a joy,

When it becomes a means,

To greater fellowship,

With You.


And here again,

I see it true.

How fellowship with You,

Is everything.


It’s everything we’ve always been looking for,

And so much more.

It’s the answer to everything.

And it’s right here,

And right now.


And the only fight,

Worth fighting,

Is the fight,

To feast,

On more of Your fellowship.


I have tasted.

And I have seen.

And I will die,

On this hill.


Because I’ve found the truth.

And I’ve found the treasure.

And anything less than this,

Is death to me.


And God,

By Your grace,

Keep me here,

In the feasting on the fellowship,

Of You.


And bring whatever trials,

And whatever encouragement,

And whatever correction,

I need,

To break me,

And bend me,

And bring me back,

To the place of communion,

With You.


Highest Holy One,

And the High King of Heaven,

Keep me broken and contrite,

And humble,

And full of the holiest joy,

In the feasting on the fellowship,

Of You.


O, Son of God,

I feast on Your fellowship,

I confess Your name,

I sing praise and worship to You,

And nothing is impossible.

And the whole world is holy,

And full of more and more and more of You.


And I can go anywhere,

And do anything.

And Your presence here,

Is working a miracle,

That I can scarcely fathom,

Or conceive.


Holiest King,

Your kingdom flows through here,

A glorious and beautiful and boundless thing.

And I can fly,

Soaring high on the wings of You.

I have Your fellowship!

And I want for nothing.


O, Holy King,

My life is a holy and beautiful thing!

And every life that breathes around me,

Is a miracle.

And every place I see here,

And every place my soul soars,

And my foot steps,

Is holy ground.


You flood the soul,

And the heart breaks for joy.

And the eyes flood with tears,

Of worship.


Holy One,

Son of God,

You are so much better than we know.


And the knowing of You,

Is far greater,

And far better,

And far wiser,

Than any words,

I could ever say.

And anything,

I could ever create.


My life is holy.

This moment is on fire,

With the glory of You.

Every moment tinged with holiness,

And wonder.


God who feeds every living thing,

With grace from His own hand,

Right now.

The air is thick with Your presence.


Son of God who holds the world together,

By the power of Your word.

Son of God who feeds Your children,

With the broken bread,

Of Your own body.


And we enter in,

To the Holy of Holies.

And we behold the Most High,

And we die not.


Covered in the blood of the Lamb,

We enter in,

And we are counted,

As clean,



And pure.



Son of God,

I ponder these things.

And I could sing of Your love,



My soul explodes with the wonder,

And the mystery,

And the joy,

Of communion with You.


Holy God,

Who fills all the world.

We feast from Your own hand.

And we are so unworthy,

Of Your face here,

And all the grace,

That You give.



And humbled,

We feast on grace undeserved.

And we offer all we know in return.


We lift up souls,

And we sing with our voices,

And with all that is us,

We cry,

Holy, holy, holy.



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