He is life itself and when He inhabits the midnight silence, the rest fades into oblivion and I hear Him whisper that I am loved.
If I reach and he is shown through my reaching, then I will be Christ to the world. I am an act of love when I take a single breath, dust a single shelf, write a single word, hold a single hand. Christ in me makes it so.
He loved so he chose creation out of man’s destruction in the garden. A story he knew he would create before the formless was formed.