Even in the deepest canyons of life, when we sit huddled in the rocky bottom, unsure of our way up, the sun hits the ledges above and lights the mountainside with glory, reminding us of warmth and promise and propelling us in our search of a path out. Sunrise this morning reminds me of this ancient truth once again, the hillsides lit golden and scarlet by the ascending sun, the valleys still dark and frost-bitten from the winter's dark night.
It is always so, when I am hermetically sealed in the warmth of my home, and I gaze out the windows at the beauty He lays at our doorstep faithfully with each sunrise. Creation is my beacon home, the light that both guides me to the safe channel and warns me of the dangerous cliffs and rocks of the dark sea. Sitting on the other side of the window, in the shadows, I am daily in awe as the sun hits the ice crystals on the windowpane and sends me twirling in the chandelier light of the morning's prism.
All I wish for Christmas is this: that I remember that, no matter how long, deep, wide and dark the canyon of my winter's discontent, my way is lit by the Light of a holy and unfathomable God who speaks loudest through suffering and draws us closest through days such as these. Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty!
I’ve been climbing my whole life
and I’m only at the bottom of the mountain,
Rising up from my feet
in the daylight
rising up into the clouds and out of my sight
is the height of that mountain
Well my hands cannot reach it
and my mind can’t comprehend it
but my soul is gonna get there one day
Lord, these shoes are gonna need some help
so we can make it to the top of the mountain
Many feet have gone before us
with a habit of faith and courage
they’ll meet us at the road’s end
~Christa Wells, On the Mountain~
No comments:
Post a Comment