I think it’s important to stop and notice the things that move us. I’m impressed very easily, but it’s not often that I’m moved to tears.

In spring of 2018, I was kind of burned out, numb, and bored. It surely didn’t make any sense, because everything I was doing appeared VERY CAPITAL LETTERS FUN. It was almost embarrassing to feel that way, because truly I was doing someone’s bucket-list type stuff.

So, all that to say, I was not operating as someone who was easily moved during the early months of 2018. I was dead-as-a-doornail (what’s a doornail, you ask?? FASCINATING!).

But, as Los Angeles always does, the city of Angels wooed me back to life. As soon as I was wheels down in sunny L.A., I felt my winter-worn muscles and joints start to loosen. I felt my clenched fists start to unfurl. When I left baggage claim, I tilted my face to the warm light and felt my cheeks get pink from the first blush of sunshine.

I think I like Los Angeles so much because everything always feels alive. Los Angeles vibrates with energy and light and creativity. It’s a place where people with ideas go to see what they can do. I can appreciate a city of dreamers.

My biggest, best, (and I hope) truest visions of God and of the Kingdom are big and spacious—it’s wide and open where God is. I am always envisioning stretching my arms out as far as they can go, pressing out on my box of preconceived notions of who God is and what He’s up to. Everything I read in Scripture tells me He’s so much more than I can imagine, and He’s up to far greater things than I could hope.

I hiked Runyon Canyon, keeping my eyes peeled for Kim and Kanye (no dice, y’all). I visited the fashion district to source new things for Nellie Taft. I ate up all the good food I could find. You should know this about me, though: I care more about the vibe of a restaurant than the food. I’m the worst, I know.

As the trip was winding down, I joined a bunch of friends (old and new) and drove up the windy hills up to the Griffith Observatory. You’ve seen La La Land, right? You know the place then.

If you go to the Griffith Observatory (WHEN YOU GO, right?!), you’ll want to start your drive from the bottom of the hill just as the sun is going down. Wait too much longer and you’re going to be in L.A. TRAFFIC, what else? :) You’ll snake around the hills, through the scrubby vegetation, through some truly beautiful neighborhoods, and you’ll wonder how on Earth this is a real place.

Keep going. You’re not there yet. At the top of the hill, you’ll find this white orb of a building. It’s magical and hardly feels real, but it is.

By the time we got up to the Observatory building, it was dark. But, the energy of the crowds of people was electric. You could feel the buzz.

We kind of had to elbow through throngs of people, but by the time we hit the landing of the observatory and tilted over the railing, it was just us and a few others quiet in awe.

I’ve never seen anything like it. The city of Los Angeles sprawled beneath us, glittering and blinking like a sequined dress. As far as I could see, the ground shimmered as people did the things people do.

I could feel my throat tighten as my eyes welled up to reflect the miles of lights. I am a person who pathologically says, “I don’t know why I’m crying” any time I find myself in the situation where I actually AM crying. But, this time I knew.

The reason I was crying was that for the first time in a long time, my bored, burned out spirit was moved by a big and spacious God. In that moment, I felt the realization that humans are insanely talented, able, and amazing. And, God is vastly more so. We have this in-born, busted part of us, but more than that, people have an immense capacity for reflecting the light of God. Every good gift of light came from God, and this city was BRIGHT. People dreamt this out of nothing, cast the vision and hoped people could envision it, too. Then, they set out to build something so vast and lovely.

Beyond the charms of this bright-lights city laying under us, there is a telescope at the Griffith pointed at the Heavens. It seems rightly ordered, this looking toward God and peering over what man has made.

This moment at the Griffith Observatory was one I wanted to remember. It matters to me how I view people. It changes how I carry out the mission of God in this world. I cannot see humans as primarily awful sinners and also then love them without fear of being hurt. I, instead, have to know that they can and will sin, but their primary identity and reality in this world is as image-bearers of God. This changes things for me. It changes everything.

When I can look at the great potential of humans, because of God, I am able to labor together with them.