The sanctuary was dark, the stage illuminated. In a foreign space, music filled the cavernous sanctuary and familiarity felt near.

Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul

The words sang by members of the congregation caused me to forget I was in a church I didn’t know, in a city I’ve never heard of, in a state I’ve never been to. Everything felt—for a moment—known. Only during worship can the mundane become sacred. Only through actions can Christ be manifested. Only through staring had I made a sacred moment profane.

The sun comes up, it’s a new day dawning
It’s time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes

She sat in the front row next to her mom who sat next to her dad, the pastor of the church. She smiled vivaciously and entered the sanctuary like a beauty queen, smiling and shaking hands with congregants. Her hair was straightened and neatly tied in place by a black headband with flower attached to it. Her green eyes sparkled as they belied her special needs. Special needs that made Olivia a special person.

Hands lifted and eyes closed, she sang with such passion and fervor, Matt Redman would be proud. His lyrics were written just for her, the girl with the floral headband, infectious smile and sparkling eyes. Her worship was so earnest, it was hard not to stare.

And on that day when my strength is failing
The end draws near and my time has come
Still my soul will sing Your praise unending
Ten thousand years and then forevermore

The church roared out the chorus with sacred belief in each lyric sung. Moved by the poignant words, a congregant seated nearby in a wheelchair approached the stage and wept near the altar. It was then that it happened. I saw her black headband with the flower attached move passed mother, father, and the front row, as she gently approached the woman in the wheelchair. Without saying a word, Olivia reached out her hand and placed it on the woman’s shoulder, while extending her other hand high into the air. She closed her eyes and sang out…

Sing like never before
O my soul
I’ll worship Your holy name
Jesus, I’ll worship Your holy name
I’ll worship Your holy name

It was a sacred moment of true worship no eyes should have see, but no one could help but stare. A beautiful girl with an extra chromosome worshipped freely and refused to let Down Syndrome withhold her from meeting a need she felt called to meet.

Special needs. The label frames a perception and instinctively causes us to categorize ability, worth, and value. As I saw the beautiful girl with the floral headband worship the Lord, I turned my face. I could no longer stare. Special needs for a special girl with a special ability to make the profane sacred by laying hands on someone in need.

I was the one teaching. I was the one suppose to impart a divine revelation. I was the one who stood on stage. But the real preacher was Olivia, for she preached without saying a word.

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