Praise

A red Chevy Cobalt idled grumpily on the chilled asphalt. My mood easily matched my trusty get-away car. Except this morning the only place I wanted to escape to was back to my warm and inviting sheets and memory foam. I had only been awake for nine minutes, but they had been unpleasant ones.

I had crawled unwillingly out of bed and muttered a prayer I don't even remember. I stumbled out into the hall and looked in the mirror. At the crack of dawn, I didn't care about how the monster looking back at me looked. I groggily wiped the leftover mascara from under my eyes and pushed up my smudged glasses to rest more securely on the bridge of my nose.

Bring it on, I thought sarcastically to myself as I slammed the door of my car. Normally I am quite the morning person. But even the soft glow of the sunrise couldn't pull me out of my sleepy, grumpy haze. I put on some John Mayer, and we were off.

My roommate chatted thoughtlessly the entire ride to the airport. I was really going to miss this girl. But I could offer only a meager response as she questioned me about an internship I had taken over three years ago. We pulled to the drop off zone, finding no one else in sight.

We said goodbye, and I began to make the 30 minute trek back to Rexburg. As I turned onto Highway 20 it hit me. It was Easter. The sun was rising bright and beautiful into the clear morning sky. I quickly switched Mylo Xyloto to music from the past two semesters of From the Heart.

A song came on describing the my very favorite bible story. My Savior, my Redeemer heals a blind man. I imagine the man: tattered, torn, destitute of hope. I see his sightless, hollow eyes. I sense his sallow skin, his lifeless face, his lips downturned from the years of heartache and pain. Suddenly, the Savior is there before him offering him life, salvation, even sight.

I listen as the song describes the healing of this blind man. My own thoughts reflected on the countless times my unfailing Savior has healed me from a variety of ailments and maladies. The reality of my ingratitude lumped in my throat, and tears welled in my eyes.

I am a sinner. I am selfish; I am judgmental; I am weak. I am prone to fail, wander, quit and surrender to the power of the one who does not love me, even the adversary himself. Yet each and every time, my Savior is there with open arms.

The song changed. The London Symphony Orchestra filled my grumpy Chevy Cobalt and melted the icy strings of my heart. In my cracked, froggy voice that I had barely used that morning, I lifted my voice in praise to my Lord, my Savior. To the one who has been my everything, and given it back to him.

I had barely gotten three sentences in when the tears came again. This time, tears of complete and utter joy. My Savior lives.

Then came these words:

"Ten thousand gifts could I employ to show my praise, my thanks, my joy. All of my life, yea all of my days, still not enough to sing thy praise. Ever I'll sing thy praise."

I feel as if Rob Gardner has become a friend. I have listened and echoed his testimony thousands of times.

I looked around me as I drove home, too moved to even think in complete sentences. More than two thousand years ago, a man who loves me beyond all comprehension gave the ultimate gift – his life so that I might live for eternity. But not just live. I can live redeemed, clean, whole, pure and refined. It's done through the matchless and merciful power of his Atonement. I have never understood this powerful love. Yet as I drove home this morning, I was filled with it. It was an experience I wouldn't trade for anything.

I love the man named Jesus Christ with all of my heart. He lives. I testify of his mercy, his atoning sacrifice, his miraculous power and his unending love. He beckons each of us to come unto Him. As I strive daily to do so, I grow from my weakness, learn from my imperfections, and am strengthened through his loving grace. I love him. I testify that he loves us infinitely more, with a beautiful perfection.

Ever, I will sing His praise.