You may have spent years unaware that you hear even whispers from Me. And yet all the while, you have been singing My song from the top of your lungs. You have been, in effect, buying and selling My wares. You have acted on My behalf. You planted seeds of My love. You planted them absentmindedly, not realizing what you were doing, yet you were strewing My love across the world. You may not have noticed how tall the seeds you sowed have grown. You may not have noticed them at all. It is almost certain you didn't notice.

You may not have heard My words coming out of your mouth. You may not have felt the surge of My heart springing from yours, and yet you may have been representing Me all along. You may even have been the last to know. You may never have caught on. Even to this day, you may not have been aware of the song you sing.

You may or may not have been searching for God. Whether you were or were not, nevertheless, you indentured yourself to Me. You trailed after Me, listening to My tune. It hummed in your heart. Your heart gave you the notes, and it gave you the words. And then little by little, you were singing My song and dancing it. And yet, for all you knew, you were shuffling your feet, dragging life around, unaware of the lightness of light and your true relationship with it.

You not only sang My song, you were singing it as loudly as could be. You were singing My song from the rooftops. You were My singer of songs. You were a Godsinger.

Of course, I have no copyright on My song. Of course, it is My joy that you take My music and My lyrics and take them as your own, make them your own. How well I have known that My words and thoughts and love and Being are yours right along. It's you who may not have noticed. It's you who certainly has not noticed. Will you know this now? Will you know that you are a carrier pigeon for God? I sent you from My hand. I flung you out into the sky, and you flew and you flew, and you delivered My messages. Of course, My messages are My songs. They cannot be separated, My words from My song. I only sing. I sing the song of love, and you, My dears, run off with it, not even aware of what you are running off with.

You think you are trudging along, shuffling your feet, and all the while, your feet have wings, and all the while, you are a flier for God, flying high and passing Me out and passing yourself out too like pamphlets. All the while you are soaring the galaxies with Me, and all the while, you are oblivious. I nudged you so many times, and you blithely did not feel a thing! But, here, now, do you feel Me nudge you? Do you feel that little poke from Me, making a dimple in your cheek, making you smile a little bit?

Don't you know you have been serving Me right along? What did you think you were serving? Perhaps you didn't even know you were serving at all. Perhaps you have downplayed yourself. Perhaps you thought you were a vagrant, passing time, not doing anything at all. Perhaps you thought you served the god of riches in the world, the god of ambition, a self-serving god of some kind who raced through your mind and to whom you gave obedience, yet, beloveds, you have been working for Me. You have been in a fog, and now the fog is clearing, and now you sing My song exultantly. I hear your singing. Soon the whole world will hear your singing, and My song will be known, and everyone will sing it, and you will hear it better than ever before.