Those expansive desolate saturated monoculture February fields
Might tempt me towards gray and soggy.
That dissonant electric guitar wail
Could draw me closer to fear or discomfort or distrust.
But I know what’s above the clouds and beneath the surface.
There’s plenty of evidence of what’s not seen too.
A smidgen of belief catalyzes right vision: no airplane’s needed to remind me of light’s sunshiney warming horizon-presence.
Some remembrance goggles is all.
Seeing through a glass darkly
Isn’t the only way to see.
A day’s heaviness of soul
Can break to light.
“I can feel it/Comin’ back again” a fitting and timely song confession cry just now for
Grace’s scandalous help and palpable presence.
Suddenly all this light amidst all this gray
Lights up everything
And I’m reawakened and
Woken to glory.
Glory’s in every song
Every thought and I’m
Opened up to the pleasure and profundity and nothing’s-left-untouch-ed-ness of Love:
I’m right saturated.
A soul’s dawn
Testimony to Life given and repentance honored.
Your condescension is Your glory, and unexpectedly, remarkably, wonderingly, my benefit, Lord.
What a wonder that simply admitting wrong, desiring better, discontent with wasted time, resources, self is enough to turn it all upside down and back to glorious where before there was just muck and gray and a slough of despond.
What a wonder that forgiveness looks more like liberation than penance.
That turning toward the light – even when it’s not in plain sight – is enough to dispel the dark.
And that repenting – literally “turning away from” – what’s wrong is all that’s needed to turn toward that light.
That the remedy that ushers in the right comes from a willingness to face where one’s wrong.
What a blessing to serve a God Who’s much more interested in (my) redemption than (my) wretchedness.
What a joy that He gives 2nd, billionth, zillionth chances to turn toward Him and that He honors such turning every. Single. Time.
Hallelujah that the prodigal son is me and the welcoming forgiving father is Him, and it’s all real and better than I could have imagined. That I’m not just in a story, but the story because it’s His story, and wonder of wonders He invites me into it.
What an opportunity to get to live into love’s inheritance and come into “love’s discovery” as the Indigo Girls sing it.
Husband’s air guitar and
Happy belting “free fallin'” and
Radio crooning and on the way to grocery shopping in all this gray early February day and who knew it could all be alight with wonder?
Who knew that yesterday’s despair could be today’s joy?
Ah, love. You’ll always surprise, won’t you?
You’re the God of the new and the old, the tiny and the magnanimous, the God of the unexpected, the grays, the rainbows, and the everything in between.
You’re in the mud puddles and the pure waters and the failures and the successes.
Thank You. Thank You for being available and awesome and impossibly huge and big enough to come down to the tiny. And thank You that Your coming down enlarges rather than shrinks power and purpose and love and goodness.
I’m smiling and almost overwhelmed with the goodness and the happiness of being back in my Lord’s sight.
Thank You, repentance. Thank You, redemption.