One fabulous Thinker

I remember the moment clearly. I didn't plan to go to the altar that night. I just felt that quiet pull in my spirit that said, Go. The room was filled with worship. Voices rising. Hands lifted. And I walked forward, not even fully knowing why. At first, I was just praising. Singing the lyrics. Lifting my hands. Doing what I've done so many times before. But then something shifted. I stopped singing about God… and started encountering Him. The lyrics weren't just words anymore. They were true. They were personal. They were piercing. And suddenly, I wasn't aware of anyone around me. Just Him. His presence felt thick. Gentle. Overwhelming. Holy. And the tears came. Not quiet tears. Not polite tears. But the kind that fall like they've been waiting. The kind that washes something out of you. The kind that feels like surrender without you even saying the word. I didn't go to the altar to cry. I went because my spirit knew I needed to lay something down. That's...