A couple of weeks ago, I was driving down the lonely road to the shop in Berea. It was that time of day, as you can imagine, when the sun is just peeking its head over the horizon and the earth is beginning to wipe the soft layer of late summer fog from its eyes. In these waxing moments of the early morning, as fading watercolor bands stretch north to south along the horizon, a brief window of time opens when the rich orange ball of fire hangs low without straining the eyes. Passing along the quiet landscape eastward, the visual silence was broken by glimpses of unassuming beauty. As earth’s lamp yawned behind a copse of trees, its wide burst forth through the haze striped crossways from head to foot in various shades of yellow, orange, and even hints of red. Desiring to stop and indulge but unable to do so, I contented myself with these interruptions of the sublime into an ever-industrializing landscape.
A simple joy; a simple pleasure, yet I couldn’t help but wonder, “Does God tuck things in and around creation that people never see just for His own pleasure?” In the same way that no two snowflakes or people are the same, so every sunrise is a unique occurrence. Never before had I noticed bands of sunshine that wide, and definitely not striped so clearly. Maybe that is just it: I hadn’t noticed. On the normal hour-plus ride, I would listen through books or dabble in various podcasts. But, on this ride, my mind was busy so all I had on was some light music in the background. Reflecting on the event, I couldn’t help but think of how close I came to being like Jonah, who was so consumed by his business and attitude that when God raised the plant to shade him, he took no joy in the Lord, he did not thank Him, nor even recognize His working for the grace given him. It is fitting for a man who also missed God’s salvation of the city below.
Jesus, by contrast, never missed what His Father was doing. He lived with His eyes wide open. In Luke 8, Jesus is traveling so that He may heal a girl who is on death’s doorstep with a crowd pushing and bumping all around Him. When a woman with a discharge of blood touches His garment and is healed, the busy Savior stops in the middle of the commotion and asks, “Who was it that touched Me?” (Lk. 8:45). The Spirit of God is always working in creation, in events, in conversations. Every one is an opportunity to enjoy Jesus and walk closer with Him, even when it is just a picture of beauty alone on the road. How many of these glimpses of grace do I walk past and never see? This is a truth I have to remind myself of often.
Leave a Reply