Erosion.

I've been to dry places that have lines that show that water has been there before.
I've sat in a seat that had dents in it that perfectly fit the butt of the person who used it for many years before me.
My brother's slip ons that are just like my slip ons, don't fit my feet; they are shaped to his.
There are people who smile so often and so genuinely that when they're not smiling, they have cracks by their eyes that tell you, "smiles happen here often."
One of my mentors worships so often that his body has tuned into a temple where lots of worship clearly happens. His eyes look like they spend a lot of time seeking. His voice sounds like it spends a lot of time thanking. His back looks like it spends a lot of time bowing. His mind thinks like it spends a lot of time receiving. His heart beats like it is an instrument. His arms look like they spend a lot of time in the air.

We will become worshipping beings when we worship so much that it becomes who we are, even when it's who we're not.
We are Christ's.
Do we look like it yet?

If the river in the grand canyon went away, we'd still clearly see that it single handedly created the canyon itself. The coolest part is that the river who is carving me will never, ever, dry up. That's the nature of living water. It erodes the flesh of the earth to create an absence of earthly matter that is, in itself, the object of beauty and the living proof of the true and responsible, living organism.