The tragedy of travelling is that I'm the only one who can see through my eyes. Today I took a drive up the alpine loop east of Orem, Utah through Provo canyon and up to Sundance. Weaving through a forest of birch trees, the three hundredth hairpin turn pulls the curtain of white bark and yellow leaves back to reveal a line of snow covered peaks that jut out of the ground, stabbing the sky. The clouds bend and flex to move through the canyons and around the peaks. The air is a crisp 51 degrees, perfect for rolling the window down to listen to the sound of the mountain stream which makes a great addition to Coldplay's 'speed of sound' which happens to be on the radio. Alone, I park the car and shut off the engine. Standing outside you swear you can hear the mountain. I pray. I don't bow my head. It seems more appropriate to lift my eyes. There is no appropriate human response to such a sight. Wow just doesn't cut it. What appropriate human response is there to the wonder of the majesty of God? "In Him we live..." Your life is worship. "...and move..." Your actions are worship. "...and have our being." Your very existence is worship. Once you get this revelation, you too will lament the tragedy of the fact that nobody else can see through your eyes. Grace and Peace today.