As the sun set off the hustle and bustle of the pier on the warm summer evening the musicians came out to play. We lazily wove through the crowds. My young nephew began to sway to the beat of the music until he was all out dancing for himself and the crowd – an interpretation of what he was experiencing in the moment. My niece tumbled cartwheel after cartwheel. We, along with the crowd, were witnesses of satisfaction and joy. We saw with our eyes the smiles on peoples’ faces as the sun dipped below the sea. We heard the guitar and voice. We breathed in the scent of warm earth cooling. These memories are mine. I will try to draw you in with the picture I paint and the one I capture but it is my memory. I am a witness, recalling from memory the scene unfolding that day.
Make me a witness to every moment and every day. Make me a witness to the changes in the seasons and changes in people’s lives. Make me a witness to miracles. Make me a witness to a living God at work in me. Let these experiences be my sensory memories, not portraits from an ancient book or the screen in front of me. I don’t want to know the stories. I want to be in the stories. A witness is in the present – living, breathing, feeling, seeing, touching, hearing. A witness is forever changed.
Make me a witness.
Come and hear, all you who fear God; let me tell you what he has done for me. ~ Psalm 66:16