Your lungs fill with the air He created, so praise Him as he created us to do.

The touch of God makes your body light. The fingers impersonate the loss of blood as you float. You can taste, feel, and see everything that’s going on — nothing is forgotten, it just doesn’t matter. All the sensations that were so familiar are now an alien to your own understanding, that’s how I  came to clench the notion. 

You are His prize to show off, to shine. You are His glory.

It feels like being in a bubble as if the ground was constructed anew, more of changing shapes than a solid surface for mass. I told my brother this and he said anything worth anything makes you feel like you’re in a bubble. Last week he got arrested.

Maybe we aren’t meant for God to handle us. Maybe we are too fragile from being so low, so far away for so long. When James fell to the ground he looked like an elevator that had its chords cut. His legs suddenly forgot how to hold weight. The youth room’s aged carpet was no match for his large build. James left a mark. I could see it when he began rolling on the floor chanting and laughing in all of heaven’s voices.

Terri fell. Three members of the varsity basketball team fell. 

My lungs became sore as I as my exhales became voiceless screams.

I felt the speaker’s hand tap my forehead as he hushed a verse and a declaration into my ear. His hands were wrinkled and dry as a desert that had no watery gulf hidden inside. His words were older than his cracking smile and expansive forehead.

A few more fell, making high pitched noises that muted their collision.

He wants to take you from all the pain of this world, but only if you’re willing.

One person just recited the promise as a spell. “Where two or more are gathered I will be there.” He repeated it with an urgency, like he was actually running after God but was four steps too slow to ever catch up. 

“Where two or more are gathered I will be there.” He raised his hands higher, he shifted his feet, he stretched his hands out in hope of the spiritual embrace. Eventually he fell. 

In the back the leaders stood. Two by a board as three were runners to make sure no was hurt by the trip and shove of the divine. Slashes got added to the board with each student considered to be in the spirit.

“This is the best Wednesday night service we’ve ever had,” one leader said. “I told Pastor Steven we didn’t need a big production video, just God.”

The other one said nothing, his eyes were hazed to the sight of so many on their back, caressing the air above them.