When we pray at night with Flaco, we always pray for the kind of man we hope he'll grow up to be. We pray that he be faithful to God, for him to be brave and strong, for him to be wise and compassionate, for his heart to break for the things that break that heart of God. Most often, I pray for him with words that at first felt strange on my lips. I pray for my boy to fear God. I prayed it at first without knowing what I meant, choking a little saying these words over my tiny son. But Good Friday is a day covered in the thickest hush, and as I thought again about the words "'twas grace that taught my heart to fear" I realized my heart has known for a long time what my mind couldn't understand. There are certain moments when a person feels the weight of awe, when you feel a small slice of what true reverence is, and it brings you to your knees and causes you to lower your head and dropped down before Him you feel the most beautiful wonderful fear. And you know that nothing is more right and everything in you cries "Holy! Holy! Holy!" I cannot wait for the day when I see my son bowed before the LORD Almighty.