It’s all so beautiful, and it’s all right here for us to behold, a world wrapped in love.
The created world is crammed with God’s love-notes and His burning bushes: the changing seasons, the moving of tides, the mid-summer rain, and more. Belly buttons. The tight fist of a newborn. Gnarled, age-spotted hands of a grandmother. Alpacas and armadillos and ostriches and oxen. And later this year, we’ll see it again: The blush of autumn, and the diamonds spilled onto a snow-frosted yard. All of it, an art display of a God who says, “This is a gift for you, my beloved.”
Look around you today. It’s more proof of His love, for you. If He didn’t love you, then why would He even bother? Touched by God, our worst days are colored differently, because they have been supernaturally recast.
Last night, I watered the garden just as the sun began its slide down the western sky. Right then, I was unexpectedly struck with this intensely personal sense of God’s love — so struck that I couldn’t focus on my task. It was such a beautiful gift to me, beautiful to the point of tears, for I’d seen only my brokenness lately, not much of the beauty. I’d seen only the holes and the mistakes and the unlovable parts — and not the glory of God.
So last night, I was reading 1 Kings 8, and the story stopped me. A cloud had filled the temple of the LORD. “And the priests could not perform their service because of the cloud, for the glory of the LORD filled his temple.”
Dear Lord, Let me be stopped today, stopped in my tracks and in my work and in my service and in my play, in whatever I’m doing, because of the cloud. Stop me, so I might behold the glory of God in His temple. In Me! For I am your temple. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Some of the beauty here, in pictures:
Last photo taken by Lydia Lee, of her sister, Anna.