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Friday, April 26, 2013

morning light



"i believe in Christianity as i believe that the sun has risen: not only because i see it,
 but because by it i see everything else." ~ c.s. lewis


no real words on this quiet thursday night. but i wanted to share a gift i snapped earlier in the week. a quick photo.  a lazy morning. a still moment. a tiny treasure.

it might have been monday morning.  i sat at my window as day broke, reading, praying, wondering... and, as always, watching.  watching the sun rise and reveal.  revealing the snow -- still here -- a heavy blanket tucked in tight across the landscape.  across the silent sleep of winter lake. from my window i watched the slow shimmer of sunlight's skate across ice. bright. so breathtaking.  

beautiful. 

and as light crept closer, more was seen.

a gentle wash along the old hydrangea below my window.  faded brown against all that white -- all luminescent as light's long fingers began to brush across the brittle brown of petal, twig and stem.  dead become light.  soon to be life. 

beautiful.

and as i watched the sun rise, i felt, also, the thought rise again in me --perhaps for the thousandth time --how can anyone deny God? what is this if not the work of a Glorious Creator?  a Creator of Glory?  over and over and over again He provides these poetic moments of beauty and reminds me of who He is and who i am in Him. 

the light keeps coming.

and i just can't imagine seeing this and not knowing that.  

i just cannot fathom watching the brushstrokes of beauty without knowing the Beautiful Brush-Stroker.  

where did you see God today?  

where will you see God tomorrow?  

oh, that we may truly see more because of the rising sun.  

seeing clearly...because of the Risen Son.  

“blessed are the pure in heart,  for they shall see God."

matthew 5:8 

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful post Jody. As I watched the West Memorial yesterday, and spoke with Katie afterwards (she attended), we both agreed that while there was so much heartbreak and grief, we could truly see God at work-in those who had passed and those who are still here to carry out their memory.

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