It was all I could do not to burst into tears.  The music was not fancy. A concert pianist and violist played age old hymns between confession and receiving grace and Bible teaching and ultimately gratefulness for all that had been done by a God so deep in love with people that he refused to give up on even the worst of sinners.

A beautiful mess?  That is an oxymoron of my hyper organized personality. My brain wants to believe messes mean one thing. .